Friday, April 30, 2010
I'm at that age now where I enjoy reading the obits. The other day there was one for this lovely looking old gentleman. Part of it said "he contracted polio at age 6, and had a deformed leg ever after" or something like that. Katie and I were trying to 1. figure out WHY his family thought this was something they needed to state (there was no further mention of him rising above the disability, working to cure polio, or anything like that), and 2. what we would or would not want said in our obit.
I promised Katie that I would say (should she predecease me): "Katie feared growing a tiny limb somewhere on her body, but this never happened."
I would like to state for the record that I DO NOT want any picture of me with tubes in my nose. Should I die as a result of a) being left behind by a scuba boat and being eaten by sharks (presumably) or b) being scared to death by a clown, I would like it mentioned that my worst nightmare was tragically fulfilled.
And please bury me wrapped in my Snuggie with sufficient yarn and knitting needles to keep me busy in the afterlife.