How Do You Want To Be Remembered?

A while back, somebody quite wise – I think it was my rabbi – suggested that people should write their own obituaries. Now. Regardless of age or medical condition. That way, you'll think about how you want to be remembered and what you want to accomplish in the rest of your life. More recently, a friend suggested that we all write our own obituaries to make sure that we like them. The idea was, why shouldn't we decide what aspects of our lives should be in the obit instead of some writer who never met us? Nobody wants to be remembered as a person who fell asleep in meetings, was a bad parallel parker, or used the phrase, "between you and I."

So with both approaches in mind, my obituary follows:

Lloyd Garver died last night after having sex. He was 133. He didn't look a day over 120. Mr. Garver was best known for being the only person to win the Pulitzer Prize for Literature, the Nobel Peace Prize, and the California lottery all in the same year.

Before turning his attention to other literary pursuits, Mr. Garver wrote television comedies for over 30 years. He was responsible for such famous lines as, "And those were just the girls," "You never told me that before we were married," and "Who could be at the door at this time of night?"

Thanks to Mr. Garver's mediation efforts, there has been peace in the Mideast for many, many years. Now, Muslims, Jews, and Christians live happily side-by-side and share many a fine meal. When asked how he brought about peace, he replied, "I just kept telling the same story over and over again until the warring factions would agree to anything to get me to stop talking."

Although a private citizen, Garver helped draft some of the most important legislation in this country's history. He was behind the Higher Taxes For Rich People Act, he helped institute life without parole for people who talk behind you in the movie theater, and limited to three the number of "Law & Order" versions that can be on TV at the same time.

Despite the magnitude of these accomplishments, Garver was proudest of his family. He and his wife recently celebrated 110 years of marital bliss - – the Uranium Anniversary. She said that he was "a giver. He always displayed, flexibility, tolerance, and patience -- even when I told long, rambling stories."

He was both loved and respected by his children. They were very patient with him whenever he had a computer problem. They always laughed at his jokes, came to him with their problems, and he was never a source of embarrassment to them – even when he whistled or sang in public.

He was quite wealthy, but saw his many friends as the source of his true wealth, not all that cash that was in the shoebox in his closet.

When he won the California Lottery in 2060, he received 300 billion dollars. At that time, the lottery took in about 16 trillion a year, with $600 of that going to the public schools. Mr. Garver did not spend his huge winnings on himself – except for buying two new cotton sweaters. He gave the money away to those who needed it the most. In 2062, he was named, "Most Philanthropic Person In The World." He even gave that trophy away.

But he always insisted that he wasn't a saint (at least not yet). He was far from perfect. Perhaps his greatest fault – if you don't count that he was a picky eater – was that he was too modest, too humble. I guess he was just never comfortable talking about himself.

Real American Familes

For the past several years, we all know that there has been an emotional issue that has divided the nation. The other day, Connecticut became the second state to make the practice legal. After that happened, I interviewed Frank Wilson, the head of the Campaign For The Preservation of Keeping American Families The Way We Like Them. When I talked to him, he was a bit upset because he thought that his proposal should have been on all of the ballots across the country in the recent election. He calls his proposal Proposition 8A and it deals, of course, with the controversial issue of making it illegal for "anything other than the traditional lawn to be legally called a 'lawn.'"

We conducted the interview on his beautiful green lawn:

ME: Mr. Wilson, why shouldn't couples be allowed to have whatever kind of lawn they want?

WILSON: If you look up "lawn" in the dictionary, you'll find that it's defined as "a stretch of open, grass-covered land." It doesn't say a lawn is something that contains a rock garden, a waterfall, or a big tree in the middle of it like some people are trying to get away with these days.

ME: So, you don't like the way some of these non-traditional lawns look.

WILSON: We do not object to the way they look. What we object to is calling them "lawns."

ME: What do you think they should be called?

WILSON: Civil Union Front Yards. But they say that's not good enough.

ME: Maybe in the spirit of equality, they feel the same word should be used for them as the one used by more traditional lawns.

WILSON: Tough. We had the word first. Look, sure they should have the same legal rights as those who have normal front lawns – water, sunshine, etc.— but they are certainly not entitled to the name. These people have an agenda of changing a definition that has been important to the sanctity of American families for generations.

ME: What does a lawn have to do with the sanctity of American families?

WILSON: A lawn is where Americans have tossed baseballs and footballs around. It's where little kids wrestle. It's where young couples have sat and smelled the recently mowed grass.

ME: Yes, but...

WILSON: A lawn is made of American grass. Period. It's not a place where people admire a rock formation or listen to a waterfall. If two consenting adults want those kinds of things, they should put them in the privacy of their backyard. We don't want our children being taught about non-traditional lawns that belong to a small, but loud minority.

ME: Mr. Wilson, maybe it's time to accept that over the years, the meaning of the word "lawn" has evolved.

WILSON: Please don't bring that ridiculous "evolution" theory into this.

ME: But obviously, the vast lawn and garden of something like the Palace of Versailles is quite different from your own front lawn.

WILSON: Let's not bring the immorality of the French into this discussion.

ME: Mr. Wilson, you don't only object to couples having non-traditional lawns, but you claim that their having these lawns somehow denigrates your own lawn. Could you explain that, please?

WILSON: Glad to. If a couple has some weird thing in front of their house and they are legally allowed to call it a lawn, that diminishes the status of my own lawn. Next, anything could be called a lawn. A monkey could be called a lawn. And we don't want to allow monkeys to replace American families frolicking on their lawns.

SUDDENLY, THERE IS A LOUD NOISE COMING FROM NEXT DOOR.

ME: What was that?

WILSON: Next door neighbors. Those Macmillans are fighting again. One of them probably threw something at the other. It happens all the time.

ME: That's terrible.

WILSON: Yeah, it's one crazy family. Each of them has been married three times, their kids are on drugs, empty beer bottles come flying out of their house at all hours,...

ME: And yet, their lawn is perfectly manicured green grass.

WILSON: What's your point?

ME: Isn't it just possible that the couple down the street that has the nontraditional lawn with a rock garden and a waterfall might have a loving, caring family?

WILSON: How would I know? I've never met them. And I don't plan on it, either. Hey, is that crabgrass?

As Mr. Wilson bends over to weed his lawn, I resist kicking him in his traditional, American rear end.