by Eddie Evans

Mostly, crime scene cleanup consists of cleaning after suicides and human decompositions. True, some decompositions arise as the result of murder-suicides gone unreported for days or weeks. It seems that lately, with the recent economic turndown and Wall Street bail outs, suicides have increased in number. At least it seems to me that I'm cleaning after more suicides than in the last few years. I have no way to say one way or the other with certainty, though.

Homicides remain as before, few between the suicide and decomposition calls. I have not forgotten my first homicide cleanup or my first suicide cleanup. I have no memory of my first decomposition cleanup. Whatever it consisted of, I'm sure I forgot on purpose. Decomposition cleanup generally matches the meaning of horrific.

I could not recall my first introduction to decomposition of anything, for that matter. For certain decomposition of dead animals came to my attention as a young boy. I played within Coyote Creek's six-foot high reeds and bushes. Coyote Creek remained semi-wild, sandwiched between suburban developments on both sides, one side Los Angeles County, the other Orange County, California. California's dry heat dehydrated dead critters quickly and thoroughly. Most likely the stench and flies drove me away. I would develop a genuine curiosity about decomposition's place in nature later.

At least I would know the odor of death on my next passing at death's door. I would recognize the carcass of decaying flesh as nature's way with the once living. It's the way of things, I surmised early in life.

It seems odd that some years later my experiences along Coyote Creek would generalize to what I encountered in Viet Nam's rain forests as a young soldier. Vietnam's rain forest serves as host to many insects and animals, all hungry. For the US infantry soldiers, passing over or around decaying corpses remained a special encounter.

The decaying soldier meant that his comrades were nowhere near, or else they would have ensured his removal to a better resting place. Our young enemies deserved a place of high honor, I now understand. They were better then we. They believed in ancester worship. They believed in remaining unified as extended families. They believed in remaining free from large, encumbering business relationships. Real estate divisions were less important than caln divisions.

The decaying soldier also meant haste lead to survival for some to fight another day. This strategy proved useful to Viet Nam's peasant soldiers.

Sunken uniforms or black pajamas covering decaying flesh hid most of nature's work. So many hidden for a time in elephant grass not so unlike Coyote Creeks bamboo grass, not so unlike its marshy shallows resemblilng Vietnams marshy shallows. The various stages of decay showed misfortunes of becoming both lost and dead to one's comrades. Of course the deceased had no idea of his missing-in-action status. Somewhere someone missed his presence. Someone somewhere would ensure a proper burial or cremation for the fallen soldiers now decaying in Viet Nam's rain forests. Someday, I suppose.

The reader will surmise that such remains belonged to Vietnamese soldiers or the "Viet Cong" (Vietnamese Communists -- actually very traditional, rural folk bent on protecting their way of life from modernism)Rarely if ever did US soldiers killed in action decompose in the wild. Such is our power at war.

Unlike homicides in war, homicides in peace mean decomposition, one way or another. So my first decomposition cleanup as a professional crime scene cleanup guy also remains lost somewhere in my memory with my previous experiences. Perhaps there's some sort of Freudian mechanism at work, some sort of denial of death's future for me. Cleaning after a decomposition rarely troubles me and I see no problem with continuing to clean after decomposition. I simply do not recall close experiences with decomposed matter once in its human form.

We all decompose sooner or later, even if cremated on purpose. I see cremation as a super fast form of decomposition. Poof! Nature in the form of burning gas expedites our return to Earth's essential elements. Finally, what remains of us remains of the stars; it's all the same at one time or another.

And we are all the same under our skin, too. Imagine that in 1962 both Marilyn Monroe and Eleanor Roosevelt died. As a fifteen-year-old, my life remained unremarkable as it would do for all time. These two celebrated women, each so unlike the other, shared the same planet at the same time and performed their exits during the same year. One a cultural icon because of her Hollywood connections and appearance, the other a World War II centerpiece and counselor for our war president, President Roosevelt.

In the end, I, as they, encounter Poe's "Conquering Worm," speeding our decomposition and return to essential elements. It all seems so inconceivable, horrible to some. What a disgusting exit for the human body, all biological beings. At some time we must follow the trail of Coyote Creek's now forgotten critters. "Dust to dust."