My Dad’s favorite place on Earth was a fly fishing club we belonged to in rural Massachusetts. After he was cremated we held a brief ceremony at the lake and my two sisters rowed out in a boat and scattered his ashes. As luck would have it there was a mayfly hatch going on and the trout gobbled the ashes right along with the emerging flies. The following week we went fishing at the club and one of the members kept several trout to eat. My brother in law Paul reminded the member that he probably would be eating some of Dr Meadows’ remains with his fish. I’ve told my kids I want to be cremated and my ashes scattered in the Road Hole Bunker at St Andrews, my favorite golf course. That way when my grandkids are watching the British Open and the golfers get to the 17th hole they can say “There’s Grandpa”. True story!