Random Thoughts

No. 1 son accuses me of being cold-hearted for telling him he's now on his own when it comes to car insurance. With our policy up for renewal and him now living in another state, it seemed appropriate to advise him it's time to take on this adult obligation. In fact, it was a pleasure after years of watching our rates skyrocket due to his automobile adventures.

But he says half-jokingly that we've abandoned him in the cold, thrown him to the wolves. I can only laugh and shake my head. Am I the only one who finds this especially ironic coming from a child who abandoned his parents for Washington, DC, and considers himself mature enough to carry a gun, arrest people and yes, hand out speeding tickets?

It's all in the bag....
I have to say that the most exciting thing about my new eyeglasses is they came with sunglasses that pop on and off with a magnet, bringing an end to the frustration of trying to wrestle the clip-on versions onto my prescription lenses. I thought my new magnetized sunglasses were pretty cool until I saw my first Miche handbag last week. Talk about the wonders of magnets – they allow you to change the look of a designer handbag simpy by snapping on a new shell of any color and design. These shells are far cheaper than buying a bunch of purses – and they fold up, taking much less room than a collection of handbags.

I’m pretty much a one-bag woman – I find one I like and stick with it, for months and sometimes years, until it becomes too worn or no longer suits my purposes (too small, too large, etc.). I used to change out pocketbooks with the seasons but I’d always forget to move something into the new bag. I have accepted the reality that I don't care enough to bother with the ritual anymore. This one-purse attitude appalls my friend Lori, who claims to have an entire room devoted to her handbags. A Miche bag might benefit us both – get me to change my look at a reasonable price and help Lori use her purse room for something else. Some people find wonder in the universe. For me this week, it's magnets.

So what kind of purse/pocketbook/handbag owner are you?

Final words…
I learned this weekend that a former colleague died from a heart attack while undergoing tests for heart issues, which unfortunately he suffered from for years. As he was being prepped for the tests, the doctor walked in, took one look at him and said, “You’re having a heart attack.” He turned to his wife and said, “Guess I’m screwed.” He was 82 years old.

This got me thinking about the “last words” people say on this earth. Some people put their final thoughts on gravestones, like the infamous “I told you I was sick.” One of my favorite obituaries this year related how a very ill man looked up at his family gathered around him and asked, “Do you people know something I don’t?” Then there’s always "thanks for the memories.”

For my personality, “I told you so” might be as appropriate as closing out with a joke. However, I think I'd prefer that my last words be “I love you.”

Have you ever thought what yours would be?

Snapshots of Life

Nine family members hovered around the bed of Donald C. Cheney when his breathing gave a sense that the end was near for the 85-year-old man known for his quick wit, irascibility and pure joy of living.

Don opened his eyes, glanced around his bed and said, “Do you people know something I don’t?”

Did you laugh out loud? I did when I read this gem in the recent obituary of the former Marine, National Rifle Association supporter and 67-year member of the Boy Scouts who’d played on the 1938 undefeated Dover (NH) High school state champion team.

Even though I didn’t know Don or any of his relatives, the joke catapulted his death notice onto my list of memorable obituaries. It also made me wish I’d met him. He was funny to the end.

I love obituaries. Every time I pick up a newspaper, I quickly turn to the obituary page even though more often than not, I have no connection to the deceased or the survivors.

Only recently did it occur to me why I am such a fan: obituaries are wonderful stories. Some are better written than popular novels and I suspect more than a few are just as fictional. I am always intrigued by the type of information that ends up in an obituary, and often wonder about who and what is left out -- and why.

An obituary represents a small snapshot of a life. It’s supposed to be a portrait of a person – but it’s also history related by the surviving family and friends as they viewed it, and oftentimes it's composed by strangers at a newspaper or a funeral home.

I’m especially fond of obituaries, like Don’s, that surprise me or make me laugh (not unlike the main character in my novel-in-progress who enjoys them so much that she reads them aloud to her dog).

For example, I loved the one about the man who requested that in lieu of flowers, his grieving friends and relatives vote for Al Gore for president. I also laughed at the obituary for the gentleman who served as treasurer of the local sewer district for 23 years, “during which time there was continuous flow.”

Another favorite was about a woman who put “three meals on the table nearly every day for more than 70 years, although cooking was not as interesting to her as reading, snowshoeing, wildflower identification and bird watching.” I wish I’d had the opportunity to suggest she teach other family members to cook or learn to get takeout.

I also enjoy learning about hobbies of the deceased. It amazes me how many are ice fishermen or knitting enthusiasts. Not long ago I read about a man whose hobby was visiting Dunkin’ Donuts shops. I don’t want to be critical of the dead, but that does not seem like a legitimate hobby. It’s not like there’s an official group for DD fans like the National Association of Watch and Clock Collectors, or a Family Motor Coach Association – two groups I learned about from obituaries. Furthermore regarding hobbies, I don’t think listing a person’s only pastime as spending time at the mall (as I read in one obituary) puts her in the best light.

Here in my part of the world, so many of the departed were fans of professional sports teams like the Red Sox, Patriots and Celtics that I’ve often wondered if their organizations send sympathy cards or ever worry about losing fans to the great beyond.

I do take comfort in knowing that most of the deceased will be “dearly missed,” if you are to believe their obituaries. I doubt the man who had a “crusty exterior although some people suspected he might possibly have had a softer side” was among them, however.

Being such an aficionado of obituaries and not entirely confident my survivors will put my life in the best light, I’d already composed my own. I thought it was just fine until I read Don’s obituary. I think I’d like someone to laugh out loud at my obituary, too.

How about you? Have you ever thought about what you want your obituary to say?