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Extending
Expiration Dates
by Peary Perry
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I
suppose it’s a sure sign of old age when you find yourself looking into the obituaries
each morning and giving out a sigh of relief when you find your name is not listed.
My Uncle once told me with great enthusiasm that “Any day above ground was a good
day.”
It’s probably only natural that the older we get the more we become
aware of what’s behind us and what’s in front of us, time wise. My mailbox is
cluttered with junk ads which remind me on a daily basis of my impending demise
at some point out there in the future. I get ads asking me to donate all of my
worldly possessions to some cause or another with the sly inference that I won’t
be needing them very much longer anyway.
I get mail for ‘pre-planning’,
cemetery lots and cremation services. The other day, I received a brochure from
some goofy outfit trying to convince me to have my mortal remains …’blasted off
into outer space.’ That’s what I want, to be shot up in some capsule and drift
around the Earth for a zillion years or so. As if I’d know, but still not something
I’d want to have done with whatever’s left of me when I do pass on.
First
off, I’m not that old. Second thing is I plan on being around for a good number
of years, so take me off your lists and quit calling me. I’m not going anywhere
that I know of anytime soon.
As much as I like computers and our digital
age, I have this intense hatred for that big database somewhere that obviously
has my age keyed into it and then is rented out to the ghoulish companies who
are looking at me as a prospective cadaver in the near future.
For your
information, I’m busier than ever, I am more active than ever and I plan to stay
that way until my time comes, which I hope is not anytime real soon since I just
have too many things to get done before I’m finished. I agree with what Napoleon
once said, which was …”Rest is rust.” He certainly wasn’t any slacker.
Old age fascinates me, when I sit next to someone who is obviously up there in
years; I always ask them to tell me what they have learned about staying alive
for so long. Invariably, they’ll tell me that they believe it’s staying active
and always on the move. One of my best friends is about to turn 80 in a few months,
Let me tell you, he is a ball of fire and I’d challenge anyone to try and match
him step for step. When I grow up, I want to be just like him.
I figure
as long as you’re in good health, which I am, then why slow down or give up just
because you’re getting on in years? I’ve seen, and I bet you have as well, people
who retired from some active line of work and the next thing you know, they’re
dead as a doornail in just a short period of time. Almost like taking it easy
was too stressful.
I do know one thing. When they finally do put me in
the paper, I want them to use a current picture of me, not one that was taken
when I was twenty years old. What’s that all about? I can never figure out why
folks put some photo of themselves in uniform from World War 11. You and I both
know we don’t look the same as we did when we were twenty. So, why use a photo
that probably doesn’t even look like you anymore? I want people to see the real
me, those lines and wrinkles took a lot of smiles and tears to earn. They weren’t
easy to come by.
The other thing, I want them to say something along the
lines of …’he died’. Not, he expired or he passed….the truth is we die….sure we
know or should know where we’re going when we die, but I don’t think of dying
the same as expiring. That always says to me that his time ran out because he
didn’t get something renewed.
“Oops, too late, you should have been in
here yesterday…you’ll have to expire.”
“He passed” has the same kind of
connotation to me. I wonder if he could have failed? Where did he pass to? Too
confusing to me. Did this guy think it was a test or something?
Now, if
anything I’ve written makes you mad because this is the way you wrote the obituary
for someone in your family, don’t send me a bunch of letters about it. What I
am saying is just my opinion, for what its worth.
Besides, I ‘m too busy
learning how to sky dive.
© Peary Perry
Comments go to pperry@austin.rr.com
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