I read a commentary today that makes me a little nervous. I'm wondering when someone's gonna come up with a Babyboomer death-desk calendar. They've got one for George's upcoming Presidential termination. It has sold well.
From what I'm told, that's the one which has all the days of George W. Bush's Presidency. Owners can pull off a day at a time, wad up each day George has served, shoot it into the wastebasket and shout for glee as their calendar gets smaller. If Hillary gets elected, I'm registering my patent for the Billary daily calendar. It should sell well too.
But this Babyboomer news disturbs me. Seems there's a tally going on, thanks to some guy by the last name of "Love." According to Spokesman-Review columnist Rebecca Nappi (http://www.spokesmanreview.com/opinion/story.asp?ID=233288), James Love's "Baby Boomer Death Counter subtracts a Babyboomer from the ranks of the living every 50 seconds. When Rebecca wrote her column---which was probably this past week, 7.6 of us born between 1946 and 1964 had kicked the bucket.
And at the rate of one every 50 seconds (the amount of time it usually takes me to write a couple of sentences), I'm sure that this Sunday morning we're inching up there toward 8 percent. So, I guess the first lesson we have to take from this is to write those sentences faster, got off yer behind and get busy doing all those things you've dreamed of doing cuz yer gonna end up as one of that Mr. Love's statistics.
Not a great way to start a snowy Sunday morning in February. What's with you, Rebecca, putting a somber mood on an already gray day for all babyboomers in the Spokesman reading audience? Your column this morning even provided us some options for our upcoming demise.
I think I'd like to know some more information about the "green" way of dying and deposition before signing on with that one. No casket, no embalming and a suggestion that we'd be peppered with biodegradables before ending up in some eco-park where the worms and maggots could feed on us.
I don't think I like the idea of having my family stand around to bathe and dress me either. There's a reason I wear clothes 24-7. My Seattle cousins can tell you how modest I am. They tried really hard last year to get me a gift certificate to a massage therapist. They failed. Heck, the one time in my life when I went skinny dipping at midnight, I felt like someone was looking at me. Never did that again.
I'm more than mildly modest, and my toenails aren't the prettiest. In fact, I've kept them hidden from family members and friends all these years, and I'd like to keep it that way. Don't put me in any dress either cuz that would be phony, and I figure on taking my blunt country hick honesty to whatever grave they dump me in. A dress would hardly suit me for eternity. Jeans please, and make sure those toes are covered.
I do kinda like the harp music idea, but be sure throw in a little Neil Diamond, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Allison Kraus, Joan Baez, and John Denver stuff added to the mix. They should all fit in the babyboomer music-loving realm, and I certainly want my contemporaries entertaining me as I head for the great beyond.
Gosh, a stunning thought just hit me. I've been sitting here for twenty minutes now. That's 1,200 seconds divided by 50, and that means another 24 of us have died. Better bring this blog posting to a close and get on with life. Cuz my time's a comin'
Have a nice day, and---in all seriousness---whether we're Babyboomers, Greatest Generationers, or all those other labels applied to age groups, there's one common denominator: life is our precious gift to be appreciated and lived well. We never know when the next 50 seconds could be our turn at the Mr. Love's clock.
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