Tuesday, 11 October 2011


Last month I had a big birthday.

Big in the sense that I am now stinkin’ old. It was one of those birthdays. A round number event.

And it wasn’t 30. Which is round and cute.

My grandpa on my father’s side lived to 98 and could have gone longer but he decided to wrap things up and went on a bit of a hunger strike at the end.

So in terms of longevity I am still (in some circles) considered quite young.

Regardless one must think ahead.

So naturally when the family gathered to toast my ‘lost youth’ the conversation turned towards death after a few inappropriate comments about early onset dementia.

Four of us have decided on cremation.

Is it a green thing? Not wanting to waste precious land. A simple thing? Not having to deal with a casket and all the trimmings?

Don’t know.

What was interesting was that we were all very clear on where we wanted to be scattered.

Somebody will have to climb to the top of Mt. Washington to dispose of my athletic spouse when his time comes. While my surfer brother has requested that his smoked remains get tossed while riding one last wave in the Pacific Ocean.

Seems that those left behind, at least in our family circle, better stay in shape and keep their cardio up.

There will be no standing around and crying at a gravesite.

Instead it will be necessary to lace up hiking boots or pull on a wetsuit and get down to business.

Cremation is not for sissies.

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