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Considering mortality
We are all going to die. I know, you don't have to tell me. That's not the ideal way to kick off a column that is supposed to focus on the tickling of the funny bone yet it is, nonetheless, a fact. A fact, incidentally, I get reminded of three of four times a week nowadays when I go to the mailbox. Those fun loving guys and gals up at the A.A.R.P. are relentless when it comes to trying to sell me life and/or health insurance. I don't get it. If they know I'm nearly 55 and, due to my many health-ravaging habits, could easily become gravely ill or even assume room temperature any moment now, why would they want to insure me? It just beats all how many of these “truly amazing” life insurance offers feature, in big red print usually, the phrase “Hurry! Act Now!” Why now? Why is it the company's considered opinion that right now would be the perfect time for me to buy their insurance? Do they know something I don't? Could it be that the people who are so anxious to get my name on the bottom of one of their policies has just purchased controlling interest in a coffin manufacturing company and can see how to turn a dollar in buying their own boxes? I'm just asking. I never did understand high finance. Being a family man it is my responsibility to try and take care of my wife and daughter after I've crossed over into glory. I don't want them to do without things they need after I'm gone. It is my wish that they both have pleasant, productive lives without me. And that brings me to another sad fact of life. After reading my current life insurance policy, I found that I'm worth a lot more dead than alive. It's a good thing for me my wife never has time to read these columns. I'm not all that good at sleeping with one eye open. It's not just money one has to be concerned about when the insurance companies decide your time may well be at hand. After the money issue has been laid to rest it's time to decide where you want to be laid to rest. Personally, I would like to be buried in the Chandler family plot at Bethany Baptist Church in the Richlands, but I doubt my wife would trust me being that far away from home. If this can't be worked out, just throw the sandy sod of White Lake, N.C. over my solid bronze, one size fits all, built to last a lifetime casket. If the graveyard happens to have a smoking section then place me in that corner, please. I wouldn't want my second-hand smoke making any of my dead comrades sick. I don't want one of those big expensive funerals. A team of eight white horses pulling a glass enclosed caisson with my casket inside down Main Street Lenoir at high noon on a Saturday will suit me just fine. I'll be listening for the marching bands and if the Governor feels led to come and say a few words over me then he'll just have to do so at either his expense or the taxpayers'. I won't be caring which at this point in my life...uh...I mean death. I trust the family will dress me well as I head off on the ultimate road trip. Since I'll be gone for quite some time I want to be comfortable and yet, I would like to look presentable. A cotton shirt would be lightweight and breezy but not much good on those cold winter nights. Maybe my widow will have the foresight to toss a nice wool sweater and maybe even a blazer in for me. I just hope she isn't so distraught she forgets that even though I'm very quiet, I still will require the reasonable care one might give a piece of all-weather lawn furniture. Shoes, by the way, are optional as I doubt I'll be doing much walking. Come to think of it, maybe being dead isn't going to be all that much of a change for me. Benjie Watts of Gamewell is a columnist for the News-Topic. If you want to leave a message for him him call the TopicLine, 757-4300, category number 4335.
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