Mail:
asaman at
destinyslobster.com

This spring, I lost my grandfather. I guess the death of a grandparent doesn't always evoke really strong emotions, especially if the relative had led a full life and it seems like "the time had come". Yet, the passing of my grandfather had a strong effect on me as well as the rest of my family. I think I saw the working of Wyrd in his death very clearly.

At the interment, a long-time friend of his whom I did not know and who had traveled with him cross-country said aloud, "He was a true Viking!"

I was totally floored. I realized then how true it was. It was a powerful reminder for me that Asatru is in my blood. A few moments after these words were spoken, I happened to look up and saw two ravens flying away from the cemetary. Take that as you will.

Gene Munson, during his time in Midgard, was a formidable man. He wasn't Asatru and probably never even heard of it. He was a self-proclaimed agnostic and had no use for speculating about the afterlife. He simply felt that, "when you're done, you're done. Just tie it up with a nice pink ribbon and move on." We tied up the box containing his ashes with a pink ribbon. We also buried a die-cast model of a red pick-up truck with him. He had always wanted one and my uncle decided that was a fitting fireship for him!

Gene was determined simply to grab this life by the horns. Yet, he truely embodied Asatru ideals. He lived Tru even if he did not honor the AEsir. He was a community leader, an entrepreneur, an explorer, a survivor, a land-taker, a free man and many more things over the course of his 94 years. He was a good man and also a stubborne one. He cared deeply for his family, and yet was often distant to my father. A complex man to be sure and one whom I have realized I take after in many ways.

Grandpa used to tell us many stories from his life. Story-telling is a very old practice in my family and we have spent many long hours around the fire listening to retellings of family history (which once prompted a friend to say, "Boy is your family Norwegian!"). One of my Grandpa's smaller anecdotes was about a friend of his who was a Catholic priest, if I recall correctly, and how they used to argue over religion even as they worked togther on community projects. Apparently, after one argument, the priest said, "Gene, you're a good man. It's too bad you're a heathen." To which Grandpa replied, "But I'm a happy heathen!" Given my current path, this really gives me a chuckle.

You can read the article the local paper did about Gene Munson here.
His eulogy is at the bottom of this page.

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Blot and Sumbel held in honor of Gene Munson, June 6th, 2003

During the week of the funeral, spent with the family in AZ, I had loosely discussed the idea of doing a sumbel to honor Grandpa as well as a blot. I kept these talks limited to my uncle and sisters as I wasn't sure my parents would be comfortable with the ideas. My uncle Bob was very keen on the sumbel but decided to give the blot a miss, probably just because he was afraid it might be too intense for him. My sister Haidee was interested in doing both. She shared my sense that the interment was rather public and generic. Here's how it all went down.

The Blot

After the interment, the family gathered back at the house to relax until dinner time. In the late afternoon, I took Haidee, my wife, and my other sister Chandra out for a hike on the state forest trail that runs in back of the property. I don't know if Chandra had any idea what we were up to, but she sure found out! I packed a backpack with some mead, a small sledge I had found by the fireplace (one of our wood spliting tools) and had cleaned up and my Dad's old drinking horn from when he had been active in the SCA. We hiked out and up the red rock escarpments just off the trail. We went up until we were high enough to see all of the town of Sedona beneath us as well as the red rock formations that guard it. The sun was just starting to sink, and the rocks were glowing brightly. I built a small horgr (altar) out of some flat pieces of red sandstone on the edge of the bluff and perfomed the blot. I did a brief hammer rite with the sledge serving as my honorary Mjolnir and invited Odin, Freya and Hella to join us. I also invited all the Munson family ancestors. I asked them to witness the passing of our grandfather into their arms and to bless his passage and welcome him. I asked that the mead be blessed and then passed the horn around to my kin. We each said a farewell to Grandpa and drank. I drank last, then offered the remainder of the mead to my grandfather as well as all the beings present, pouring it over the horgr. Finally, I said a final farewell and thanked the Gods and spirits for attending. I then smashed the horgr with the hammer. I liked doing that - it felt like lighting the fireship. It was a spontanious thing, I hadn't thought to do it before. Then we all sat for a few monents watching the sunset before heading home (late for dinner).

The Sumbel

A day or so before the interment, I printed out a basic sumbel description from the web and left it on the kitchen counter so people could read up on what we were talking about. Everyone was on board with the idea, even though they weren't quite sure what to expect.

That week, I had spent a lot of time just wandering around the house my grandfather had built, thinking. At one point, I found a gorgeous, old model of a dragon ship in the room that had been his office. I remembered seeing there when I was a kid and was struck by the total appropriateness of this art object. How telling that he had owned it! It was about 17 inches long and made out of bronze with a wooden mast and small, individually cast bronze shields. Very cool. I brought it out and dusted it off. We used it as a center piece during dinner the day of the funeral, and afterwards, moved it to the coffee table in the living room.

That night, my father, mother, uncle, two cousins, two sisters, Haidee's boyfriend, my brother-in-law, my dear wife and myself all sat around the coffee table in candle light. I got out Dad's horn and we filled it with a Rhine wine my grandfather was (is) particularly fond of. After I explained the idea of the sumble once more, we passed the horn and each of us said great words about Gene. There were many tears, but also a great deal of laughter as we each recalled our favorite memories of the man. Some of the family read poems. I have included them below. When it was all over, I took the last bit of wine in the horn and poured it at the roots of an apricot tree my grandfather had planted in the back yard, asking for a general blessing on the family and house as I did so.

If you have never done an honoring sumbel, I can recommend it very, very highly. Even if you are not Asatru, it is an amazing vehicle for expressing feeling and drawing people together.

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Poems read by Family members


Crossing the Bar
from Demeter and other poems
by: Alfred Lord Tennyson
(read by my uncle, Bob Munson)
- Gene Munson?s favorite poem -

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
And turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

Leaves of Grass
By: Walt Whitman
(read by my cousin, Leif Munson)

The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any the shadow?d wilds It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, but I shall be good health to
you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

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Eulogy read by a friend at the interment, June 6th, 2003

"A life is a gift of things done -and Gene did many -some because of circumstance but most because of who he really was. He was a man born into time and presented with the foibles of time and place -he chose to make the best of everything that he was exposed to. To his everlasting credit he did just
that.

Everyone who knew Gene was touched by his enthusiasm for life. His wide ranging intellect and his compassionate heart - the heart thing perhaps was Gene's greatest gift. It spoke loudly to him when he was 47 and he listened - by changing his entire life style he chose life. His heart served him well for the rest of his life.

I was blessed to know Gene for about 20 years. For whatever reason, we became close friends immediately and spent much time together over many weekly and biweekly lunches. Our conversations roamed over an incredibly vast landscape: from personal choices to opinions about politics, economics, organizational development, religion, philosophy, psychology, and of course always current affairs - local, national and international. These meetings for me were cherished events. To spend time with a man whose fundamental point of departure was always that of complete integrity made each and every encounter a most pleasant experience. We could always depend upon one another to be gloriously efficient, wonderfully direct, and always impassioned about any subject our conversation turned to.

Anecdotes - it seems thousands! Right from the lips of history .Gene shared his story and his reactions to his personal encounters as if each and everyone - and I agree with him - each and everyone was of the utmost importance. His art of living in the now was a learned response to his heart's message and he carried that with him every day of his life.

The world is a better place because of Gene Munson. His commitments to others -both individually and organizationally will bear fruit for all time. As with so many wonderfully simple things, gifts of some wonderful process, the very best we can all do is to utter a heart felt "Thank you Gene for all of your wonderful gifts of sharing! We will all miss you -and yet will continue to carry with us your wonderful life's commitment. Well done Gene! Well done!"