MINNEAPOLIS — Jeff Johnson’s life is full of creativity and zest: He runs his own Minneapolis design firm, turns a mean polka and once starred in a Norwegian realty TV series. And he’s decided that a memorial to mark his eventual death — outlined in a seven-page legal directive titled “Jeff Johnson’s Awesome Funeral Party!!” — should reflect his idiosyncratic personality.
Johnson’s instructions enlist his family and friends to paddle Minneapolis’ Chain of Lakes and spread his ashes, which are to be mixed with tobacco, coffee grounds, Pop Rocks and biodegradable glitter. After dinner in Uptown (with an open bar), he plans to have seven archers fire flaming wooden arrows into the water. And send attendees home with funeral swag: a commemorative Nalgene stuffed with a small bottle of gin and bag of coffee, a cigar, a pocketknife, and a pack of firecrackers.
“I’ve been to so many funerals where it’s just like: This does not reflect the person who is shipping out,” said Johnson, who is in his 50s but wanted to make arrangements before he might face a major health issue. “I don’t want anybody having a horrible time at my funeral if I have the ability to plan it.”
As American participation in organized religion declines, more funerals are being held outside places of worship. And some of those planning ahead are eschewing the usual script — liturgical service followed by buttered ham sandwiches in a fellowship hall, per Johnson’s cultural tradition — to envision a celebration of life more tailored to their individual preferences.