Lorne Raber hears Winnipeggers say it all the time:
"When I die, I don't want any sort of marker. I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered."
But to Raber, owner of Eden Memorials and president of the Monument Builders of North America, throwing one's identity to the winds is an incomprehensible preference.
"No one's going to know who you were!" he says. "Everyone that walks the face of this Earth should be remembered.
"To my way of thinking, it means your life wasn't worth anything. It doesn't matter what size (of memorial) it is, but there should be something. Wouldn't you want people to know you existed?"

For those whose families do erect a granite or bronze memorial after their passing, Raber says his mission is to provide knowledgeable, empathetic and ethical service.
And it had better be a memorable service, he notes, because his customers may not be back for many years.
This week, he sold a headstone to a family that had last used Eden Memorials about 20 years back.
The stone is destined for a cemetery in small-town Saskatchewan. Raber suggested an inscription in the deceased's native language, Hungarian, and arranged to ship the stone to Regina.
As the family left his unpretentious showroom on north Main Street - where the noise of sandblasting penetrates from the workshop in the back - he gave them his standard warm sendoff: "Now, I don't want to see you again for a very long time!"
How would Raber want his own epitaph to read?
"'He was a good person.' I treat people how I want to be treated."
The almost-bald, mustachioed Raber grew up in his Polish-born dad's tailoring and formal-wear business.
He wears jeans and short sleeves to work, deliberately defying the stereotype of an overly solicitous, intimidating salesman in a dark suit. He's a joker, a genial storyteller, a master networker -- the kind of guy who can make friendly conversation with anybody.
"I have a knack of putting people at ease," he says. "The beauty of this business is dealing with people. Some are pleasures, some are less than treasures."
Raber's secretary, Chaya Green, says his sensitively applied sense of humour is one of the keys to Raber's way with people. "He manages to lighten their hearts."
In the highly competitive "death-care" industry, where it's common for family businesses to pass from generation to generation, Raber started as an outsider and an oddball. Now 61, he bought Eden Memorials when he was 48. He had spent most of his career in financial services and had never run a business.
His only child, 24-year-old Lindsay, has no interest in inheriting the company. "She wants to be a lawyer. I'm the first and last generation," he says cheerfully.
In a typical Winnipeg way, though, Raber had a connection to the Jewish couple who founded Eden Memorials in the 1960s, and in 1995 wanted to sell it and retire.
"My uncle was married to the sister of the owner. I knew them all my life."
When he plunged into the small business - realizing, for example, he would be importing the vast majority of his granite from China - he consciously decided to network far beyond Winnipeg.
Raber made a trip to Minnesota to see how granite is quarried and finished, so he could speak about it first-hand. "You can't b.s. people," he declares.
He joined the Monument Builders of North America, which has a membership of about 700 companies. In 1999, he fulfilled the requirements to become one of 125 certified memorialists in the world, and the only one on the Canadian Prairies.
"You write a four-hour exam covering everything from how granite is created to grief counselling," he says.
He started attending MBNA conventions and picking up industry wisdom, supplier contacts and new products and techniques.
"I knew nothing about the business when I bought it. The best way to learn is to get involved with your trade association. People (in the same industry) will talk to you more freely if you're not a competitor...
"If you stop learning, you might as well just quit."
Being Jewish, a rarity in the industry, has set Raber apart. His knowledge of Jewish law, tradition and symbols has made him a resource for memorialists in other markets. "A guy from Maine is always phoning me for help with inscriptions on Jewish monuments," he says.
Raber has been so active in the MBNA that he was elected president this year - the first Jewish "head stone" in the organization's 102-year history. From memory, he reels off 12 cities where meetings and conventions will take him in 2008, including Baltimore, San Diego, Dallas, Kansas City, Indianapolis, Salt Lake City, Des Moines and Dayton.
 

LOCALLY, Eden Memorial serves customers from all cultures - Islamic to Chinese to Ukrainian to aboriginal - but is especially well-known to the Jewish community.
The company has created monuments for Holocaust survivors on which the names of family members who perished are carved on the back. A Star of David made from barbed wire symbolizes this kind of remembrance.
For Raber, the manner in which Jews were killed in concentration camps is another reason why the ever-increasing popularity of cremation does not sit well with him. (Manitoba ranks second among Canadian provinces, after Quebec, for preferring cremation. By 2010, says Raber, 62 per cent of deceased people in Manitoba are expected to be cremated.)
"As a Jewish person, knowing of the Holocaust, I can't comprehend why anyone would want to get cremated," he says.
Raber says while he is not deeply religious, "I believe in traditions. I put a lot of stock into religious symbols."
Over the years, he has also become a huge believer that a woman's birth name should be on her gravestone. It helps place her in the context of family members and community, he says, and is vital for genealogy.
"Maiden names are really, really important. What we do (creating headstones) is a historical record."
Black granite is currently the most popular material for memorial stones, which range in price from a modest $375 to a deluxe $8,000. When Raber is helping families choose what to inscribe, he studies the obituary and often suggests a few words that describe the deceased, such as "Teacher, Dancer, Volunteer." It's now possible to use lasers for permanent, high-quality photos on headstones. But very often loved ones are reluctant to include anything more than a name and dates.
"It's very frustrating to us," he says. "We like to put something on in keeping with who the person was."
Raber and his staff of four love it when families opt for highly creative, one-of-a-kind memorials, including entire stones in unusual shapes. They have created a camera-shaped stone for a man whose family was in the photo business, with a circular photo of the man and his wife in the "lens."
They have crafted a monument in the shape of a log cabin, and another with a sailboat etched on it.
One family came in with a spacecraft that the teenage son had crafted from Plasticine, in memory of his late father's passion for space. They asked Raber, "Can you make this?" He was thrilled to be able to provide a memorial that looks like a skyward-pointing rocket.
Raber is the last of his own immediate family, having lost his parents and sister. Looking back, he says there was always tension when he worked with his dad at Wilfred's Tuxedo Rentals as a teenager and young adult.
"In many cases, he and I were like oil and water. We couldn't work together. It took me a number of years to get the proper work ethic."
With maturity, Raber has come to see the parallels between outfitting men with tuxedos for significant life events, and helping bereaved families choose memorials, a decision he believes brings closure and peace.
"I've always dealt with families with needs. My first or second year having this company, a family was sitting across my desk and the woman (who had lost her husband) said to me, 'When we got married, you served us for our tuxedos. You're Wilf's son. You took care of us.'
"I started thinking, holy mackerel, I'm doing the life cycles. I was here at the start of their marriage, and I'm here at the end of their marriage. That was a major eye-opener for me, as to the significance of what we do."
Raber says he is often kidded about his line of work, but warns his friends he'll get the last laugh.
"My buddies play cards here. They call it the Tombstone Factory. I've heard all the jokes -- everyone thinks they're so original.
"I tell them, 'Don't make fun of me. I get to spell your name at the end.'"
alison.mayes@freepress.mb.ca
 

VITAL SIGNS:
Lorne Raber

• Born in Winnipeg, one of two children of a tailor and a homemaker. Raised on Burrows and McAdam avenues in the North End. Attended Machray, Inkster and Luxton schools, then St. John's High School.

• Worked full-time at Wilfred's Tuxedo Rentals, his dad's shop on Portage Avenue near Arlington Street, throughout his 20s. Craving independence, moved to Brandon at age 29 and worked for a finance company, starting as a collector and working his way up to loan officer.

• In 1977, married Louise, who grew up one street away.

• Was transferred to Calgary and worked there for about two years. Through an acquaintance, had the chance to move to Los Angeles, where he had relatives, and continued working in the financial services industry. He and Louise, a nurse, lived there from 1980 to 1989. Daughter, Lindsay, was born there. Now 24, she lives in Texas and plans to become a lawyer.

• The Rabers moved back to Winnipeg in 1989. Lorne worked as an employment counsellor, then for a leasing company.

• In 1995, he bought Eden Memorials from the original owners. He moved it to its current location at 3022 Main St. in 1999. It was the first monument business in Winnipeg to have a website (www.edenmemorials.com), and now makes some of its sales online.

• Is a past board member of the Canadian Cancer Society's Manitoba division, and Shaarey Zedek Synagogue. Now concentrates his energies as president of the Monument Builders of North America.

• The Rabers have lived in their current house in Garden City since 1990.
  Bowling and golf are Raber's favourite forms of recreation. Last week in his men's league at Chateau Lanes, he bowled a lifetime-best score of 531 for three games.