Ushers

by Joe Hill

Martin Lorensen was either an extraordinarily lucky young man or extraordinarily unlucky, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Or—just possibly—luck didn’t figure into it at all.

“Four Thousand Weeks, Oliver Burkeman,” Duvall said. “What lasts four thousand weeks?” “A human life,” Martin said. “If you’re lucky.”

“I think sometimes, once in a while, nearly dying brings a new clarity to a person’s life,”

It never seemed like dying was anything so terrible. Most of them just kind of quietly . . . went. Like someone blowing on a dandelion clock, gentle as that. You do get used to it. You find out it’s the most normal thing in the world, like sex, or having a baby, or nursing a baby. It’s one of these fundamental human things, reminds you you’re part of nature. We forget that, you know. Or try not to think about it. Which is stupid. It’s better to just be a mammal. You know, take long naked naps in the sun. Never miss a chance to splash in the tide.”

Social media brings out the worst in people. They’ll say anything for the likes.”

“Mr. Duvall, you think there’s something suspicious about me because I wasn’t shot in a school shooting and I didn’t die in a train crash.”

people are always going to want law, and if the only lawmen are white, then it isn’t law anymore. It’s apartheid.”

“That’s pretty much the job description, though. You listen and then you tell them you love them, no matter what they had to say.

“Because they had company when they got on board,” Martin Lorensen told him. “They weren’t alone. None of them. When you die, you aren’t alone. They’re always there, at the end, to collect you.”

“I think of them as the ushers. Like at a play—the people who lead you through the dark to your seat when you come in late. I guess there are ushers at funerals too. But maybe you’d call them angels. They look like angels.”

People die. I don’t want to be the reason some live and some don’t. It’s best to just . . . be a mammal. Eat as much fresh fruit as you can. Spend time with trees. Hug the people you love. Accept that death is as natural as the rest of life. Dogs understand that. Cats understand that. Only humans have a hard time with it. And when it’s over, at least there’s someone there. At least you aren’t alone.”