Last Writes (sic)

It's been almost a year, and I've just gotten around to re-reading my last post, and it got me to thinking. Once a year's not bad.

I mean, there really is an "end-of-time" out there waiting for each of us, sooner or later. Mine, of course, is getting more "sooner" and less "later" all the time, as is everyone's, and barring surprises I might have twenty-some years left. Yeah, that "might" is what's troubling.

Thinking.

I have never been on time. I've been late, payed late, been square (not there), cut slack, laid back, hung loose.... that's enough of that. It is trite to say I'd be late for my own funeral, but I would if I could. By now I'm sure you have noticed that I love words. There is only one that I hate. It's "inevitable".

I've had no premonition, but I've reflected some lately that I haven't made a will. There's always been plenty of time, but "inevitable" slips up on you. Oh, I had in mind that though I don't have much my children might like some of my personal affects, "heirlooms" say. One of them died, untimely, recently, and now he'll never know what I was going to leave him. It was to be a surprise, but, now, who's surprised? I'll say no more now about this.

When I started this post I had intended to explore how age tends to temper your ambition, even for those of us who have had next to none. When I was young I wanted to be a rich and famous singer/songwriter. Well, I recently learned that when one of my kids' friends heard my CD, he said, "awesome lyrics". That made me happy. A friend who's working in China say's the same thing about his Chinese friends (I assume he's translating). Icing on the cake. It's homemade, only a couple dozen copies, what more could I expect.

Lastly, I come to the thought that sat me down at the keyboard in the first place (remember "thinking"?). Frankly, it's my definitions of "rich" and of "famous" that have changed over time. Actually, forget "famous". I have enough kids and grandkids and nieces and nephews to assure some memory of me. Good enough.

Yeah, I already know that I'm rich in many ways that can't be counted in cash. But that's not what anybody really means. Rich means having more money than you really need, plain and simple. It's a poor man's fantasy of the ultimate security; of never having to want. When I was very young that meant an unimaginable sum, a gazillion maybe. As I got older I started thinking about how much it would take to live the rest of my life in comfort. Adjusted for inflation this remained fairly constant until recently. Suddenly, I've come to realize I'll have no need of ten million dollars, and as I reel in the years I'll need less and less.

So, now we come to what has caused me to become so uncharacteristically introspective. It has come to me what I want my last words to be, and it has also occurred to me that a surprise may take away my opportunity to say them. That's why I will record them now.

As you attend my death-bed, please lean close, and hear me say, "Got a dollar?"

I've always wanted to die rich.

Lookout,
Daddy

P.S. If you're ever drinking and get stopped by a cop, try to work in some multisylable words like "uncharacteristically introspective" into the conversation (without slurring). It's worth a try.