Random Thoughts About Childhood, Fantasy and Death (not necessarily in that order)

I don’t really have a point to this post, so it will probably just peter out at the end when I run out of things to type.

I was saddened to hear of the death of Bea Arthur though I was never really a huge Bea Arthur fan. I’ve seen a few episodes of The Golden Girls, and I do remember her singing something in the Star Wars Holiday Special (a memory I have tried vigorously to erase). I must have watched the t.v. show Maude when I was very young, because although I remember nothing about the show itself, one of the things I carry with me from my childhood is the theme song. Well, not the whole thing, just the bit that goes “…and then there’s Maude.” And every time I see pictures of Bea Arthur, or see her on t.v. or whatever, that bit of tune goes through my head for hours, and I’m not sure why.

Anyway, today, when I was reading reports of her death online, that bit of tune went through my head again, and that got me thinking about 70s sitcoms, and one of the sitcoms I remember watching when I was very little was a show called Good Times. It starred Jimmy Walker, whose trademark “Dy-no-mite!” made him a star for quite a while. I remember a bit of the theme song to that show as well, but like the Maude theme song it’s only a fragment and it goes “…ain’t we lucky we got ‘em. Good times!” But anyway, I guess I was thinking about death and the show Good Times and I remembered that in one episode the father in that show (played by John Amos) died. I remember it being a very sad episode, and I remember feeling very bad about it. I was only 8 or 9 at the time and my ability to distinguish fantasy from reality wasn’t quite wholly developed yet. In my mind, this was nearly a real family going through a real tragedy. So, fast forward to 1990. I’m now 22 years old. I’m sitting down to watch Die Hard 2, and who should pop onto the screen but John Amos (who played the bad guy in the movie). I guess I hadn’t seen him in anything else since Good Times, because I just about fell out of my chair. “Holy crap! That’s the dad from Good Times! But… but… he’s dead…” It probably took me a good 10 minutes for to figure out why I thought that, and when I finally sussed it I smacked myself in the head and called myself all sorts of stupid. But on the inside… on the inside I was smiling, because part of my childhood that was sad wasn’t so sad anymore, because the dad from Good Times was still alive… Pity his character in the movie was such an a-hole.

The End Of The World As We Know It

I know that this is a humor blog, so I apologize in advance if you came here for a good laugh. You’re not going to get that today. Today I am sad. I am sad because, for the last three or four days, the big news has been that J.K. Rowling revealed that Dumbledore – Harry Potter’s wise and gentle mentor, and headmaster of Hogwarts – was gay. No, I am not saddened by this revelation. I am saddened that this is considered news. I am particularly saddened by the reaction of some who profess to be followers of Jesus Christ – as predictable as those reactions were. Did you know that every day 16,000 children die of starvation? Why isn’t that news? Where is the moral outrage over that? Maybe it’s time we re-read Matthew 25:31-46. That whole, “love your neighbor as yourself” thing is kind of important – at least it was to Jesus. Maybe we should be focusing on banning hunger before we ban books.

Just a thought.

Good Grief!

This is quite possibly the most popular funeral poem ever:

Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free,
I’m following paths God made for me
I took his hand, I heard him call
Then turned, and bid farewell to all

I could not stay another day
To laugh, to love, to sing, to play
Tasks left undone must stay that way
I found my peace … at close of play

And if my parting left a void
Then fill it with remembered joy
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss
Ah yes, these things I too will miss.

Be not burdened… deep with sorrow
I wish you sunshine of tomorrow
My life’s been full I’ve savoured much
Good friends, good times
A loved one’s touch

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief
Don’t lengthen it now with grief
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wants me now … He set me free.

You may not realize it, if you don’t attend a lot of funerals, but this poem appears in virtually every funeral program ever printed. I know this, not because I attend a lot of funerals, but because I typeset a lot of funeral programs. I’m not sure who wrote it originally, as it’s uncredited in every form I’ve ever seen.

Now, before I continue, let me put in this little disclaimer. I think the poem is good. I think it says a lot in only a few stanzas that can bring some comfort to those that are grieving. Far be it from me to step on anyone’s grief. No, my issue with this poem is a personal one, and one that only applies to me. The poem is overused. To me, printing it in a funeral program is unoriginal and uncreative. I know that probably doesn’t matter to a lot of people, and that’s fine. I mean, we’re talking about a funeral program for crying out loud. Who comes home from a funeral and says, “Well, that would have been better if it wasn’t exactly like the service we had for Uncle Joe last month”? There aren’t any funeral critics (at least no professional ones). But I’m the type of person that likes originality. So, for the record, when I die, if this poem is included in my funeral program, I am going to come back and haunt the person responsible! I mean it. I want something a little more creative for my memorial service.

To that end, here are my instructions for funeral arrangements when I finally shuffle off this mortal coil:

1. I am to be cremated and my remains are to be sent into space. Ever since seeing Star Wars for the first time (in fourth grade), I have wanted to travel to the stars. I fear that by the time space travel has been opened to the public and has become affordable to the average Joe, I will be too old to make such a journey. This may be my only option.
2. Because Celestis only sends a portion of the decedent’s ashes into space, the remainder of my remains should be buried in a plot in a cemetery located nearest the person who is going to care enough to visit it once in a while. My headstone should be simple, listing my name, birth and death dates. Underneath these should be a caption that reads, “I’m with stupid,” with an arrow pointing to the headstone next to mine.
3. Finally, after the service, there will be none of this standing around in some Elk’s Lodge somewhere, dressed all in black and blubbering. Everyone is to gather at the Friar’s Club and give me a good roasting (since I’m going to be cremated, I guess you could call it a “roasting after the roasting” (badum-bum!)). Don’t stand around and lie about what a good person I was. I’m serious here. If the Friar’s Club is unavailable (or too expensive), find some other venue, but I want you all to gather around and let me have it. Don’t hold back. Trust me, I’ll be looking down and laughing right along with you… at least I hope I’ll be looking down. God forbid I should be looking up. I might not be laughing then.

Don’t ask me why I’m bringing up this whole “death and dying” thing right now. I guess, as you get older, you start to consider your mortality a little bit more. When I was in my 20s, I hardly thought about it all. Now that I’m rapidly approaching 40, death doesn’t seem that far off anymore. Maybe I’m finally heading for that mid-life crisis and this is the initial stage. Of course, it could just be that it’s Wednesday and I have a migraine.