Sam Sanfillippo
Madison, Wisconsin
The rumor is that he died twice on Omaha Beach during World War II. His heart stopped beating for a period of seven minutes, he came to, then went out again and finally came back for good. “I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since,” is how roadsideamerica.com quotes him. Whatever the case, I believe that Sam may be dead now, and this time for good. But, while we all die, few leave a legacy quite like Sam Sanfilippo, and I’m not just talking about the stuffed albino squirrels.
We first heard about Sam from roadsideamerica.com and put a mark over Madison, Wisconsin to see him on our way East. It was early morning when we called up the Cress Funeral Home where Sam (and his displays) work.
“Hello, my wife and I are driving through the area and were interested in seeing the displays.”
“Sure, come on by,” a polite voice said.
We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.
“He knows you meant the squirrels, right, not a body on display?”
“Yes,” I lied, and wondered what the hell I had just got us into.
Non-plussed, we put our faith in the website’s directions and arrived minutes later at the sort of funeral home where you hope to never go. It’s not that the people aren’t nice, just the opposite in fact, but it’s always been my opinion that funeral homes shouldn’t involve neon signs or neighbor a Taco Bell.
Thankfully when we arrived the manager didn’t take us to any cadavers, but took us to the basement where, aside from the smell of formaldehyde, we found what we had been looking for: Sam Sanfillipo’s prized possession.
The room opens with a stuffed tuxedo clad cod, and ends with three rooms full of stuffed fish, various exhibits of road kill (including stuffed albino squirrels) all displayed in strange dioramas including three white squirrels dancing at a topless bar, a wild west bar scene where one chipmunk gets caught cheating at cards, and a few scattered raccoons and birds that didn’t escape a driver’s tire.
The exhibit, at least according to the website, was created by Sam when he realized that old people didn’t like dead things. An odd cure to say the least, Sam started putting road kill in unique poses to make them laugh at death and relax at the prospect of passing on. Apparently it worked, though sitting surrounded by small whirring engines, stuffed fish and plenty of chipmunks I couldn’t help but feel that mortality was staring me down. But, I’m young and Sam is an old man (if he’s still with us), and for a man that’s stared down death two times, I’ll take his word that stuffed squirrels will lighten even the most somber mood.
Madison, Wisconsin
The rumor is that he died twice on Omaha Beach during World War II. His heart stopped beating for a period of seven minutes, he came to, then went out again and finally came back for good. “I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since,” is how roadsideamerica.com quotes him. Whatever the case, I believe that Sam may be dead now, and this time for good. But, while we all die, few leave a legacy quite like Sam Sanfilippo, and I’m not just talking about the stuffed albino squirrels.
We first heard about Sam from roadsideamerica.com and put a mark over Madison, Wisconsin to see him on our way East. It was early morning when we called up the Cress Funeral Home where Sam (and his displays) work.
“Hello, my wife and I are driving through the area and were interested in seeing the displays.”
“Sure, come on by,” a polite voice said.
We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.
“He knows you meant the squirrels, right, not a body on display?”
“Yes,” I lied, and wondered what the hell I had just got us into.
Non-plussed, we put our faith in the website’s directions and arrived minutes later at the sort of funeral home where you hope to never go. It’s not that the people aren’t nice, just the opposite in fact, but it’s always been my opinion that funeral homes shouldn’t involve neon signs or neighbor a Taco Bell.
Thankfully when we arrived the manager didn’t take us to any cadavers, but took us to the basement where, aside from the smell of formaldehyde, we found what we had been looking for: Sam Sanfillipo’s prized possession.
The room opens with a stuffed tuxedo clad cod, and ends with three rooms full of stuffed fish, various exhibits of road kill (including stuffed albino squirrels) all displayed in strange dioramas including three white squirrels dancing at a topless bar, a wild west bar scene where one chipmunk gets caught cheating at cards, and a few scattered raccoons and birds that didn’t escape a driver’s tire.
The exhibit, at least according to the website, was created by Sam when he realized that old people didn’t like dead things. An odd cure to say the least, Sam started putting road kill in unique poses to make them laugh at death and relax at the prospect of passing on. Apparently it worked, though sitting surrounded by small whirring engines, stuffed fish and plenty of chipmunks I couldn’t help but feel that mortality was staring me down. But, I’m young and Sam is an old man (if he’s still with us), and for a man that’s stared down death two times, I’ll take his word that stuffed squirrels will lighten even the most somber mood.
um ... awesome. things like this inspire me to do something with much more of an alternative bend to it.
ReplyDelete(JEFF)
Add "Donate Meepers [my hyper-active dog] to Sam Sanfillippo Diorama Collection" ot my Bucket List.
ReplyDeleteShe will want her legacy to live on...