When I Die…Please Don’t!
My brother sent me a link to a “news” story the other day and said to me, “Too bad you’re not blogging these days I’m sure this would have provided an interesting one.” As I’ve said before, though I’ve gotten out of the day to day postings there are occasions when I feel the need to comment via my blog. The story my brother sent me was about a gay couple in Germany who happen to be undertakers. They have designed a line of coffins and urns for us “gays” (supposedly). Imagine going to eternity with handsome mostly nude “athletic” male figures harkening back to the Italian Renaissance all over your coffin or perhaps just a modest rainbow colored urn. After I was able to remove my eyes from the back of my head, I thought, when I die…please don’t! – Don’t Get Me Started!
Many years ago I made a decision that when I finally die and there’s a funeral that I shall leave a list of people who are not invited nor are they allowed admittance into my funeral. You see, I have always hated people who beg for forgiveness after the person is dead or make the dead person out to be some sort of saint. No will say about me, “He always had a kind word to say about everyone.” They’ll probably be more likely to say, “He was so good at saying kind things to people’s faces and then shredding them when they left the room.” (I was brought up with manners people where you talk about people once they’ve left the room.) I’ve long said the only two absolutes in life are that people were going to talk about me and yes, I was going to talk about them. If you choose, you can imagine the “talk” is negative but honestly, as someone who has always craved good lighting (whether or not he’s under an actual spotlight) I think having people talk about you whether good or bad is, well, excellent. I don’t want to fade into the background of life, I spent enough time in the chorus when I was a young kid, now I’m the freaking star of my life and nobody puts Scott in the corner! A dear female friend of mine who is shorter than me (do they make people shorter than me?) begged me to be the person holding “The List” for my funeral. She desperately wants to let the people on my list know that A) they were not friends of mine and B) they’re not getting in. She has the job.
So when I read about the gay German undertakers (who I believe will make an absolute <pardon the pun> killing with their new gay line of death receptacles) I couldn’t help but think about all of the things that I don’t want at my funeral (including my aforementioned list and the people who are on it). I’m Jewish so it will be a quick graveside affair (once I find a plot somewhere), no viewing or service in a synagogue or funeral home, just a bunch of people standing around getting dirt on their Gucci loafers. (A sort of metaphor for my life, sometimes I’m the shiny shoe and sometimes I’m the dirt on other people’s shoes) and as someone who has always lived at a fast pace, I don’t want things to drone on. Otherwise you’re likely to hear me snapping from the coffin to pick up the pace. I want no one telling silly stories about me that they think are hi-larious. I don’t want a collage of pictures of me on some rickety easel. I don’t want people thinking they’re getting creative having people sing something from “Prince of Egypt” because I’m Jewish or “Prince Of Tides” because I’m gay and they think I would like a Barbra Streisand song to go. Now that I’ve begun the list of “please don’t” items I realize that there’s going to need to be some sort of formal list, with detailed instructions that’s notarized and given to one of my more responsible friends. The whole dying thing just seems like way too much work and yet let me assure you that I intend to retain complete control of the event from wherever I am at that point.
The one thing I WOULD like is to have the song “For Good” sung by two performers (to be auditioned by me and named at a later date). The lyrics are good musical theatre at its best and there are several lyrics that better state my feelings about my life and the people I know that will be in attendance.
“And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness for the things you blame me for. But then, I guess we know there’s blame to share and none of it seems to matter anymore.”
“Because I knew you I have been changed for good.”
Although I realize a lot can change in my mind between now and (five minutes from now let alone the time I depart this earth) the absolutes above will not. Sure, I may decide that I do want the finale “One” from A Chorus Line performed or maybe even someone to do a reading of my blog of the Ten Reasons I’ll Never Be A Male Prostitute (http://hubpages.com/hub/At_Least_Ten_Reasons_Why_I_Will_Never_Be_A_Male_Prostitute ). But for now, I’ll keep things simple and by simple I mean no caskets with painted naked boys on it and definitely no rainbow anything. I don’t really care about the box or the final resting place, I just want a lot of mourning and a bunch of people trying to throw themselves in after me because they don’t want to go on living without me. Is that too much to ask, people? When I die…please don’t! – Don’t Get Me Started!
Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com
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