A Stoppage of the Light

Thomas Lynch divided by Studs Terkel times Larry, Moe and Curly equals Charles Wilkins; or you had better be careful when you give a kid a summer job, because he might take notes.

I will, as usual, explain.

No one is more familiar with the rituals and cadences of modern funerary rites than the American poet, essayist and undertaker, Lynch; just as no one had a better ear for the sound of the human voice than Terkel, gathering stories of work; as for Larry, Moe and Curly, they speak for themselves.

In their midst now, and holding his own in terms of attributes, comes Charles Wilkins who, as a young man in the 1960s, fell into a summer job as a gravedigger in a nameless but unforgettable cemetery in Toronto.

I’m glad he was paying attention. I’m also thankful that I did not die then, and thus was in no position to be laid to rest by Wilkins’s ragged team of drinkers, stoners and post-Yorick smart alecs.

You should note here that...