Thoughts I've thunk while sippin' at a cup of tea and reading something provoking, often get dropped here for the benefit of humanity and my own hubris.
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Over the long weekend, I was conversing with family members over our barbeque about my funeral. Hey, it’s a topic. Besides, I wanted to make sure that everyone understood my wishes … just in case I outlive a lot of people and become a crotchety old man with no teeth who likes to cheat at chess.
So here are my death wishes …
First, I want to be cremated and my ashes placed in a hundred or so small vials (if I become very wealthy, they can be miniature urns, but more likely they’ll be cheap Walmart’s test tubes with plastic stoppers). Everyone at the funeral can take a vial home with them and can put my ashes any where they think I’d like to be.
I could be dumped out on the east side of Mt. Hood where I like to take people out to see the stars … I wouldn’t mind watching the whale migration each year at Cape Lookout … I could even hover over the family watching them play Scrabble on the living room floor … I could even be used a mulch in a garden. Wherever it means something.
Second, I would like my web site to be published and bound in a book for my kids and family members. You know, what better way to get to know dear-old Dad than through his bizarrely written blogs!
Hmmm … guess I better start writing better. Oh, and no more trivial postings. From now on, it is nothing but the utmost in piety and class. Good-bye humor (or futile attempts at humor), good-bye cow breasts and certainly good-bye to all this poop!
Third … alright, I haven’t quite worked this part out yet, but it has something to do with wiring up my arms so that they can wave at everyone who comes into the funeral … hmmm, a bit morbid and disconcerting. Alright, scratch that idea, I mean, that is a pretty cruel request to make someone wire up a dead guy like that. I mean, it is bad enough that someone will have to bathe me.
Why do we bathe the dead? I mean, it isn’t like its really going to help. The dead are just going to decay anyway … but wait, I’m not going to be bathed, I’m going to get cremated. Whew, well that solves that dilemma.
That brings up another point … I can’t get wired up and be in those little Walmart vials at the same time. I suppose that half of me could … nevermind.
Dagburnit … I just broke my rustitution about degenerate blog entries …
© 2003-2005, Howard Abrams • Except where otherwise noted, all original content is licensed under a Creative Commons License (see details).
While it may not have been too obvious, my misspelling was intentional. But it does bring up another thought… have you ever noticed how the abuse heaped upon our language by our president is so similar to the vocal comedy of Tigger?
Comment posted on Monday, 8 December 2003| Excerpt: | A collection of my favorite albums and songs that I would like distributed to the attendees of my funeral. |
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| Tracked: | January 22, 2004 09:25 AM |
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