Humor Non-Fiction posted January 17, 2019


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A little dark humor

Death on a Dime

by pome lover



 
The other day my sister from California (to differentiate from my sister from S.C.) and I were talking on the phone about the expense of funerals and we ended up trying to decide where we wanted to be after we died.  I said, “Just bury me under a tree somewhere, preferably a pretty place.”

My sister said, “Google ‘cheap burials in pretty places,” so I did.  The first thing that popped up was “Death on a Dime” which cracked us up, so, then we looked up “cheesy, cheap crematoriums” and “pauper’s pitiful plots” and things went downhill from there.

Then CA sis says, “I’m going to be freeze dried!” I laughed, thinking she was joking but no – she’s all environment conscious– no smoke from cremation for her. (or from her -ha!)  Of course, she lives in LA where you can’t see where you’re going half the time.  Just kidding.  But California does seem to be the hub of “far-outness.”  To me, anyway.  Freeze dried.  I wonder who came up with that idea?  Probably Nancy Pelosi.  I think she’s already experimented on her face.

Many years ago, I saw a movie with Mary Tyler Moore and Robert Preston.  They were talking about life and reaching the end of it, and he said he’d hidden money in various books in his library for his grandkids or great-grands, to find after his death.  He thought it would be fun and give them something to do when all the adults were gathered in his house for the after-the funeral- get together.

For some reason I remembered that movie the other day and thought, you know, that’s kind of a neat idea, so I randomly picked books from the shelves in my sitting room and inserted some ones, fives, and a couple of tens in a few books, smiling all the while, thinking of the happy surprise for my grands at a sad time. (Sad, because I’d be dead) Later, I mistakenly told a friend— who is a pall of pragmatism.  Why I told her, I don’t know. Probably because I was so tickled over it and had to tell somebody, and she happened to be where I was. My mistake.  Spontaneity is not her strong suit.  “Oh, honestly!” she said, in her exasperating way, “You think your kids will look through your books, remembering how you loved them?  Hardly. They’ll toss them in a box and take them to Good Will.”

My turn to be exasperated.  I did not want my warm, fuzzies messed with, so I said, “Well, then, what a neat surprise for whoever buys them from Good Will.  That might be even better.  People without much money get a happy little windfall.” (so there!)

“Windfall.  Right,” she says, snorting.

What a killjoy. See if I ask her to my funeral!

Lately, I have been going around my house taking pictures of furniture, paintings, and anything that’s valuable, semi-valuable or a valuable wanna-be that’s different and somebody like me would love.  If I still have receipts (rare), I tape them to the back; if not, I guesstimate what I paid.  Don’t want kids to give them away or sell them willy-nilly, not knowing what they’re worth. 

If I could, I would take them with me and furnish my house in Heaven or…where ever.  I like to think people have houses in Heaven – a place to be – not just continuously floating around singing. ‘Course, should I go…elsewhere, I have this precious green, metal frog electric fan that goes side to side, that my SC sister gave me.  The fan blades are in his tummy, and he sits there, smiling, with his big frog eyes and those silly long toes.  Cute as a bug.

My S.C. sister has a wonderful pasture with a big tree where her husband is buried and also a couple of dogs and a horse.  She says she’s going to be there, too.

For now, I’m happy staying right here.  Birds sing to me every morning –sometimes waking me up with their song.  Now you know, you can’t beat that. Talk about a happy way to greet the day.  Of course, there’s always some silly bird singing his little heart out in the middle of the night, but that’s okay.  I still smile.

Funny sisters and singing birds are what life is all about, but when my time comes, I want to be under a tree in a pretty place.  Maybe even with two dogs and a horse.
 
 

 


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