It's been a fun family weekend. Last night after work, I met the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML, CAL, and the Boy for burgers and then we took in "The Bourne Legacy." My review - it was a worthy addition to what is an outstanding film serial. One thing - this was the first time we'd been to a movie theatre since the horrific shootings at a movie theatre in Colorado. During an intense scene in the movie last night, an usher came into the theatre with his flashlight glowing. He walked across the front of the theatre and then positioned himself next to the exit. He stood there for a few minutes and then proceeded with what was clearly a security sweep and then he left. Note to the theatre managers - if you want to instill a sense of comfort in your patrons, do not have a pimply-faced seventeen year old who may be lucky to weigh 115 lbs. wet walk through with a glowing "Light Saber" toy from the Dollar Store next door as your security detail. Rethink that.
Saturday morning, we were up early to grab breakfast at a little local place and then we were off to Boston. It was an opportunity for us to see a bit of the history of this nation. Boston is a fantastic walking city and we took full advantage of it today, allowing us time to be together. The drive to and from Boston also gave us more of that together time.
It was on the drive up that my mortality came into play. Since we'd driven my OMC (Old Man Car), I was, and rightly so, in command of the media being played. This meant my family was subject to the eclecticism that is my iPod playlist (everything from Dame Joan Sutherland to Joan Jett; from Snoop to Grandmaster Flash; from Mozart to the Mo'Tab - it's all there). Anyway, one song came on that reminded me that I needed to tell the mighty fine and stunningly patient SML that I'd found a new arrangement of a song I want sung at my funeral. So I told her that. This led to a discussion about my funeral and the music that will be played. The Boy suddenly chimed in from the back seat about his role in my funeral planning. He was concerned that he'd have to plan it. Knowing of my distinct lack of sentimentality, he clearly is all at ease with that role. He thought for a second and blurted out the following, which was promptly Tweeted:
On planning my funeral, the Boy said "I'm throwing you in a pit,
saying a prayer, and you're gone.
He could not have been more serious. I know now that my mortal remains will 'rest' in something like this:
 |
| My future? |
The question is where that hole will be. That was the other fun part of the conversation, all of which was had through gales of laughter. When you've called more than a few places home, as we have done here in the Den, this decision makes for an interesting question. And as of tonight, it remains unanswered. That's fine with me. As far as I know, I'm not going anywhere for a good long while.
2 comments:
I LOVE it. Don't get concerned until the boy starts asking for details on how much life insurance you have. "Why do you want to know?" "Oh, no reason in particular." Then start searching for the holes.
My wife and I already own our burial plots in a local cemetery. Sometimes when we visit the graves of loved ones I will stretch out on the grass and note that my remains will someday repose six feet below that spot. My wife doesn't seem to mind, but it creeps my kids out. I don't mind discussing and even joking about my future demise.
I have told my kids that the funeral and the grave are more for the survivors than for the dead, so that it's up to them to manage these things after my passing. I have only one stipulation: that they don't put any stuffed animals, balloons, whirligigs, or wind chimes on my grave.
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