Located within the boundaries of one of the East Side of Detroit's "bluest" of blue collar neighborhoods, 9074 St. Cyril Avenue served a dual purpose—funeral home and family residence. Occupying the first floor of the impressive yellow bricked structure from 1942 until 1978 was the Van Kula Funeral Home—the second floor I called home.For over four decades I was associated with death and dying on an almost daily occurrence. Residing over a funeral home with five siblings added to the plenitude of memories—poignant, humorous and enduring.As an observer and eventual practitioner of one of the world's oldest professions, I have borne witness to human nature under the most demanding of emotional circumstances. In Dad, Can I Borrow the Hearse? I have attempted to present a summary of events as they related to me—"The Funeral Director's Kid".