Handmade wooden coffins are buried in Ozarks history. Just a few short decades ago, they were the work of rural neighbors. When someone died, locals often came together to build a coffin and dig the grave, taking care of many details for the departed together. Culture has changed, but there are still a few people in the region who are making wooden coffins by hand.
One of them is John Meyer, a young bluegrass musician who builds coffins at his rural Webster County home.
“I think people that have appreciation for maybe the natural beauty of things without needing to dress it up too much have really been drawn to this,” Meyer said at his farm near Seymour. “(They) see it as part of a larger story.”
John became part of this story because of Larry Sifford, a fellow Ozarker and coffin maker. Years ago, Larry began making coffins as part of a church ministry for those in need. Along the way, he found folks were interested in simply buying ones for themselves, too. Later, he passed the mission to John, who had woodworking experience.
“It's pretty much trim carpentry, I'd say,” Meyer says. “You're taking a board and you want the finished product to look nice. It's a lot of detail work. I feel like I had the skills to approach it, but I've definitely learned a lot along the way and still am. I think every time I start a coffin I'm thinking about how to make it better, something I can change to improve it.”
We head out to the old milk barn that’s found new life as John’s coffin shop. In addition to the one under construction, there are two coffins in a showroom of sorts – where the milk tank once stood. One is of cedar and another of pine.
John’s work meets a moment as the popularity of quote “green” burial rises and people search for more economical options for final expenses. Right now, they cost about $1,000 each and they are legal to use in Missouri without a vault in certain circumstances. He may eventually make fancier models to help earn a living. But having a mission of service is also a goal.
During our visit, John makes progress on the next of about 20 coffins he’s made so far. Among other steps, there’s measuring, cutting, gluing, sanding and setting in screws. But there aren’t typically cuts at the shoulder joints in John’s six-sided coffins: He’s got a way to saw and use hot water to bend the wood into place.
In a way, seeing the coffin on the wooden table reminds me of the concept of “laying out” a body as those long-ago Ozarkers did in the days before funeral homes and embalming were the norm. It reminds of the beauty in simplicity.
Boards, recent trees, really, sit nearby. They’re waiting for their turn to be part of an eternal moment. Sometimes, as they wait, the room is filled with the buzz of saws, or the weight of contemplation. At others, there’s conversation between John and those who come seeking his creations.
“The conversations it lends itself to where people are thinking of their life, the ultimate meaning of their life, their own story. I'm not sure there's anything else that would lend itself more to those types of conversations, which I'm drawn to; I really enjoy. I find my heart come alive in those type of situations where you're just really tuning in with people.”
