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Oh, bury me not

4 min read
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Dave Molter

The first vehicle I bought was a used Cadillac hearse. I was 18 and playing in a rock band, and it was perfect for not only hauling equipment but also for making grownups huff disapprovingly. And huffing was almost guaranteed by the fact that its previous owner, who ran a venetian blind installation and repair service, had stenciled above the windshield in big, white block letters “THIS DRIVER IS BLIND MAN.”

I was reminded of what I lovingly call my “bier wagon” last week when I read a friend’s short free verse poem called “Upon reading obituaries of friend’s friends on Facebook.” I imagine that most of us who frequent Mark Zuckerberg’s flawed social media platform have been confronted by unexpected deaths in this manner. A high school friend or perhaps an old flame passes on. Quite often, it’s someone we never knew. Still, we pause a moment and perhaps shake our heads, offer silent commiseration with the bereaved and breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn’t someone we knew well. We feel others’ losses, but fleetingly and from a distance.

I’ve never dwelt on death, but of course I’ve been exposed to it ever more frequently as I age. Celebrities I grew up watching pass almost daily; rock stars I thought ancient when I was 20 seem alarmingly close to my age when they move on to that great gig in the sky. But I’m still not that guy who pores over obituaries daily to see who beat me to the finish line. The Grim Reaper is coming, I know. I can’t outrun him, but in the back of my mind I harbor the thought that when my time comes, I might be able to duck around a corner as he hurries past, oblivious to my presence. Until that hour comes, it’s my belief that my time on Earth is better spent living than in worrying about death or what will happen after I die. Are Heaven and Hell real? I’ll find out. Or not.

Either way, it makes sense to me to conduct myself toward others and in all my dealings in a fair, giving and loving manner – with no expectation of a final reward. This is not a religious belief, per se: The so-called “Golden Rule” isn’t particular to Christianity. Similar sentiments have been expressed by Jewish scholars as well as in the writings of Confucius, Plato, Aristotle, Isocrates and Seneca. True, I’ve been imperfect in my application of this credo, but at least I’ve tried. And even if no one reciprocates, it will have been worth the effort.

About the only preparation I’ve made for my own demise is deciding to donate my body to science … if science wants it. If I suddenly drop dead while alone in public, I carry a card in my wallet and info on my cellphone that includes a number to call for a service that will send someone to retrieve my earthly shell. If that representative is wearing a black shroud and carrying a scythe, so much the better.

Until that day comes, maybe I should buy another hearse to tool around in. A slightly used hearse – quite often with low mileage and amenities such as leather upholstery, air conditioning, heavy-duty shocks and an upgraded audio system – can be had for far less than a camper or RV. Imagine the huffing that will occur when I pull it into a KOA in, say, Alaska.

I’ll probably be alone in the hearse, though. My partner in crime would only be seen dead in one.

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