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Cape May

Nothing Ever Happens On My Blog

Our bookshelves, ourselves

I suspect it’s bad form to think about funerals just before a plane trip, but I went to a service for a 93 year-old neighbor today so it makes sense to me. A friend and I made a solemn if semi-senile vow there that we’d attend each other’s funeral. Something tells me that won’t quite work, but hey, dead people have a lot more free time. In 43 years–if we were to live as long as Emily did–I’m thinking our younger neighbors won’t be attending our funerals. More likely they’ll check a box saying they like that we’re gone and click on a smiley face for the bereaved left behind family and click on a frown-y face on Trulia and buy our houses and feel like they’ve done something. Virtual life is not particularly virtuous.

Some people know how to hold memorial services/celebrations and most people do not. Tinny, piped-in music from an old tape recorder should not be allowed. Ministers talk too much. Good music is key. Orchids from the collection of the gal in question–an excellent addition–but keep me out of funeral homes and churches and I’ll be happy–dead or alive.

An orchid for Emily