The Poosey Digest... by Freida Marie Crump
Write your own, please
Greetings from Poosey.
You should write your own obituary.
We're constantly reminded to draw up legal will, but no one ever suggests that we have our obit in order. Heck, a will is just "stuff." An obituary is the stuff of your life and so why leave it to a grieving relative whose hands are already full with the details of pallbearers, scheduling, and who's going to return all those casserole dishes? Take a little work off your offspring's hands and make sure the job is done right.
The typical obituary is chock-full of relatively unnecessary information. When you're born (a rather common occurrence, hardly worthy of much mention), when you died (equally common and in fact the reason for this occasion), who you married (if they don't know by now what are they doing at your funeral?), and your children (believe me, they'll be there. See "will" above.)
But the really salient parts of your life... your likes, dislikes, aggravations, and joys... who knows those things better than you? And let's face it, there are probably a few choice life-bits that you've not told anyone. What're they going to do, kill you?
I've opted for a negative obituary for myself. There's way too much positive spouted at the typical American funeral service, so I've decided upon a final statement listing things I've never done.
I've never paid a credit card company a penny of interest and I'm rather proud of that... Visa, MasterCard, American Express... all these interest-gougers have done nothing but serve my bidding my entire life. I regard them as unpaid servants who enter my house once a month, tidy things up, and leave without a salary. They won't starve. The folks down the street are using them like a bank.
I've never been to Disney World. I'm not saying a person shouldn't go, but I'm living testament to the fact that you can live an entire lifetime without buying eight-dollar hamburgers and never having once posed for a picture beside an actor portraying what sounds like a neutered mouse. And this is the truly remarkable thing: They still let me vote. They allow me to pay taxes, salute the flag, travel in Missouri without a tourist visa, and make apple pie. It's possible, my friends, it's possible.
I can agree with Will Rogers that I never met a man I didn't like. It always takes a while to develop genuine loathing.
I've never missed voting in an election of any sort. I recently voted on a slate of candidates for lieutenant governor, none of which I'd ever heard of and none of which I knew a thing about. Proud to be an American, I voted anyway.
To my knowledge I've never missed an appointment. Heck, I lose sleep just worrying about losing track of a meeting or an engagement of some type. Of course there's a built in safety net here. If I didn't remember the date then I probably forgot that I'd missed it.
I've never jumped out of a plane. This may seem like an odd item to include in a deceased's final statement to the world, but when I was young I always had the urge to parachute. I never got up the nerve and each morning my knees thank me for my cowardice.
I've never eaten beef tongue (again.)
I have never learned to play solitaire. I like people, and besides, I know that you can cheat. "Never succumbed to temptation" is not listed in my negative obituary.
I've never genuinely lost my temper. Each and every time I've completely blown my lid I knew exactly what I was doing. Don't believe me? Wanna fight about it?
I've never broken a bone in my body. I can't say the same for what I've been tempted to do in the bodies of others, but so far my skeleton is crackless.
I've never regretted living a day in my life. What I have lacked in tact and ambition, God has made up for by giving me a genuinely terrible memory. By the time I should be regretting it, I've already forgotten it.
Finally, I can say that I've never had that desire that afflicts to many of us of wanting to somehow go back and live in a long-ago better time. Naïve as it may sound, I still assume that God's hand is firm and real whether we see it or not. If you're a non-believer, that's fine. Perhaps you can assume that the U.S. Senate will fix it all.
The loss of one person is tragic enough. I encourage you all to avoid any auxiliary damage at your funeral by boring the rest of us to death. Sit down and write.
You ever ‘round Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door but you'll enjoy the trip.
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