Paul Dermody had no intention of following in his father's and grandfather's footsteps. He'd grown up in the funeral business, seen too many family outings cancelled by someone's ill-timed demise, endured too many wisecracks: "Hey, Dermody, people are dying to see your old man."

No sir, not for him the death trade -- not until the big Stelco layoffs of 1982 landed him in the street after five years in accounts payable.

But the funeral industry had been lingering in the back of his head all those years. The family still owned the original funeral "parlours" at 1919 King St. E. and 7 East Ave. S., which were established by his granddad, Percival Xavier, and later operated by his father, Bill.

After a year in the funeral service program at Humber College, and a one-year internship at J. B. Marlatt in Hamilton, Dermody had his funeral director's licence. He stayed with Marlatt until 1989, got the key to East Avenue in January 1990, started painting, cleaning, ripping out old wallpaper, and conducted his first funeral in February.

Three years later, a third site opened -- in the former Mother's Pizza at 796 Upper Gage -- to serve the rapidly growing Mountain population.

Q: What is the biggest change you've seen since entering the profession?

A: Cremation. There's been a huge increase since I got my licence. The cremation rate might have been 20 per cent then; now it's closer to 50 per cent.

The No. 1 reason is that we're seeing a new generation now. The younger generation embraces the idea of cremation more than the older generation, who feel it isn't a proper funeral without a funeral mass and burial in a Catholic cemetery.

There are a whole bunch of different factors. There's the financial factor. Cremation is less expensive. You can even rent a casket if you're going to cremate. There's the "Save the Planet" factor. People don't want to take up land. That's more of a European thing. There's the "I don't want to be buried" factor. A lot of people are uncomfortable with the idea of being buried. People are being transferred back to where they're from and it's easier to send cremated remains.

As you go across the country, the cremation rate goes up. It's about 80 per cent out west and still about 20 down east.

Q: Are clients making their funerals more personal?

A: Not everyone wants a cookie-cutter funeral. We are all different in the way we grieve. As long as it's done with taste, you can do just about anything.

People love to bring in the pictures today. We have families filling up two or three memorial boards. The big thing is the DVD. It helps bring back the warmth of the person's life.

You can personalize the room. We've had hockey sweaters hanging up, motorcycles in the room -- the important thing is to check that the spark plug is unplugged.

As far as requests, we don't get too much that we don't allow. You have to make decisions -- maybe there's another family using the facilities at the same time, so you have to be aware of their needs.

And there are certain legalities we want to watch -- I don't think we'd want to have a keg of beer brought in.

You'd be surprised what's buried in cemeteries -- fine brandy, a favourite salami, golf clubs, hammers, fishing poles, locks of hair from the grandchildren. It's a personal thing.

Q: What distinguishes a good funeral director?

A: You need empathy, more than anything else. You have to believe that what you are doing is going to help them. You have to be aware of everything people need. They want answers and they need them fairly quickly. You need to realize that people are saying, "We want to be listened to, we want to be helped, we want (the funeral) to have meaning."

Q: How has the terminology changed?

A: The common term now is funeral home, not funeral parlour.

"Mortician" and "undertaker" evoke images of buckboards, wooden coffins and gunslingers. We're funeral directors -- we do more than just undertake. More and more, we're becoming event planners.

I would never refer to a client as "the loved one" -- that's kind of Hollywood embellished. And we don't say someone passed away. My dad hated that term. He'd say, "You don't pass away, you pass gas. You say, 'He died. Period. He died.' "

mnolan@thespec.com

905-526-4689