The older I get the more reality reminds me that I share a similarity with a lowly jug of milk; I have an expiration date. I relish life and want to live for a very long time; well with one caveat. My wish changes if all the radio stations in the world get stuck playing only rap music. In that case, I would actively look for the conductor to punch my ticket for that proverbial long black train.

One thing gaining popularity lately which I find a bit tacky is individuals placing memorial announcements on rear windows of cars and trucks. Usually it’s to bring recognition to a friend or family member that has passed with the words like” In memorium of Betty Sue.” It then lists the birth and passing date. This fad alone would preclude me from ever driving a gray automobile. I refuse to drive a rolling headstone. I think I’d like to get people talking by putting a birthdate but no end date. That should get them wondering.

If I were to be placed on a vehicle, I want to be on the rear window of a Lamborghini or a Cadillac Escalade. At least some passerby’s might think I had class. My luck, my memorial announcement will probably appear on the back of a Dodge Dart with faded paint with the headliner hanging like Spanish moss. To my friends who read this, avoid at all costs a car belching white smoke. I don’t want commuters wondering if my ashes are imbedded in your muffler.

I remember once visiting a friend of mine who owned a flower shop in Kentucky. As I walked into the shop, she was assembling a large white board on an easel for a grave site. Prominently displayed with a group of cheap blue flowers was a plastic kiddie phone. The words emblazoned around the phone read, “Jesus called, Bubba answered.” I’m not a grave expert but If most men received a call from God on that phone, I’m sure their first reaction would be to hand it to their mother-in-law and say, “It’s for you.”

Maybe you’re like me and wonder what people might say after you’re gone? I think like a wedding event, we should all have a rehearsal program prior to the big day. I’d be (no pun intended) dying to hear what people will remember most about me. I don’t want flowers, shrubs, or wreaths. I want shelves of baked goods. Now that is something I really love. Rather than the faint smells of carnations and roses permeating the air, I want mouth watering scents of cinnamon rolls, pumpkin pies, and chocolate chip cookies. Then following the dessert reception for my friends, give the leftovers to a homeless shelter or nursing home. At least I can find solace in advance in knowing that when people may hear my name for the very first time, it will leave a sweet taste in their mouth.