I had a conversation last night with a writer friend of mine that, I’m convinced, was a dream.
After confirming that it was indeed a real conversation I desperately tried to grasp the subject matter over breakfast today.
She told me of an elderly family friend in Texas who had asked that my friend write a eulogy so she that she could have an opportunity to approve it before she passed. Eeeeewwww.
This conjured the scene of aunt Edna sitting on top of the station wagon in National Lampoon‘s “Vacation.” Creepy!
Even better, my friend’s business partner recently sang at a memorial service for someone who WASN’T EVEN DEAD. I absolutely love hanging with these two- for obvious reasons.
Why such a rush with the memorials?? No one wants to die! Well, except for my friend Tommy, who’s being forced to be in a wedding tomorrow. Aside from Tom, most people RUN from the mere mention of mortality.
I have no opinion one way or another other than I would prefer NOT to die…not until I’ve had an evening of unadulterated, wild, sensual, passionate (conversation) with Jessica Alba. Who else needs a cigarette?
One girl I know informed me that she plans to host an essay contest for her eulogy to see who can write the nicest things about her.
If prizes are involved, I’m sooo down with this contest! Otherwise I’ll show up at the funeral and say:
“She was a cool chick, we got drunk a few times and I got to see her boobs after about 26 cocktails. They were nice…oh, and so was she.”
I started thinking that maybe it’s not a bad idea to have a eulogy “in the can.” So, I enlisted the assistance of some writer friends.
They all agreed to take part- under the condition that I promised not to come anywhere near their homes. Somehow my friends get into trouble with their significant others when I’m around.
I decided to sit down and write my own eulogy and then compare it to that of the others; thinking that, with several minds involved, we could merge the papers into what we shall call a super eulogy.
Here’s my version: (with stage direction)
We’re gathered today to honor a wonderful man. Jim was a wonderful man in so many ways, many of which I can’t talk about but, allow me to say that whatever you’ve heard about elderly men simply isn’t true.
Hoping that I’m in my 90’s, I have a stipulation in my will that my friends hire a 20-something year old girl to read the eulogy.
What to say about my friend Jim…big, big, big Jim…I’ll miss it, I'll miss it so very very much...uh, I mean, HIM. I'll miss HIM.
Speaker has a longing look on her face as she takes a moment to wipe her brow.
He lived a simple life without regret or shame; except for the fact that he actually voted for Ross Perot.
Being a generous person in life, he gave back to the community...never forgetting his roots. Jim will be greatly missed.
I’m sure that he's looking down right now, wishing that we hold love, hope and happiness in our hearts.
With the exception of Mike, who constantly edited and micromanaged Jim’s work to shreds- to the point that everyone is fairly certain that MIKE is, in fact, the reason Jim is dead right now.
When you see Mike as you leave the service, I urge you to chase him to his car in wholesale Frankenstein film fashion and then gather around his house this evening and burn it to the ground.
F**k you Mike! F**k you! Edit that you miserable little rodent!
Clearly I’m in the wrong frame of mind to write a eulogy at the present time. Let’s look at what my friends wrote.
Melissa’s Submission:
Many of you are here today for the same reason as I - we all know that there will be an open bar after the service.
Jim was a cool guy and I’m sure some of you in the audience will miss him. Amen
Thanks Melissa…your economy with words were both moving and got you uninvited to my funeral.
Todd’s Submission:
I stand here today with a hangover, and a heavy heart. Jim and I collaborated on writing projects many times.
I’ll especially miss the days of constantly waking him up while we were writing on a tight deadline.
I can say this to you now my friends...Jim and I were more than colleagues, we were LOVERS! I‘m kidding.
I’ve always admired him for his tenacity- when he set out to do something, you could rest assured that he’d prevail. With the exception of talking Carolyn into a three-way in my swimming pool the night we were editing her book.
Love ya’ buddy!
Bravo Todd!! BRAVO!
Todd is a true friend. His wife is mean to me, but I understand that a divorce wouldn’t fit into Todd’s budget right now. This is expressly why I’ve started a trust fund for him.
I actually had a tear in my eye when I read this. Primarily because we ALMOST had Carolyn talked into a 3-way but we ran out of tequila and then she sobered up!
Carolyn’s Submission:
The world is a better place today. I’m sure that Jim is looking UP at us all right now, envying the fact that it’s nice and cool here. Oh, and F**k you and your swimming pool Todd! Peace out!
Such hostility. Carolyn is never invited to the pool again! Unless, of course, she wants to come over.
After reading the above submissions and three others (which cannot be published) I realized something that choked me up. A poignant moment of self awareness...
...My friends really suck.
I was asked to give a eulogy once at my uncle’s funeral. He was a cool old man.
As a kid, when I spent the summer at my grandparent’s house, my uncle used to let me work with him on his farm. That is to say...he forced me into child slave labor.
I used to split enough logs to build a railroad line across the country.
He also had quite the knack for being a ladies man. Sadly, his wife passed long before he did, thrusting him into the dating world well past middle age.
He had no problems, per se, in the female department, he just seemed to adopt the quantity over quality format in his partner selections.
I suppose we were all biased since we loved our departed aunt so much, but my uncle finally settled down with a woman who was about 20 years his junior.
She was a pleasant woman, however, her hair, apparel and makeup consultant evidently never moved past 1984. She also smoked these long cigarettes that, as I recall, were about the length of a racquetball court.
I think they were Virginia Slims 450’s.
While in town for the wake I visited with his family and we reminisced. I studied the vacation pictures on the mantle of he, his grown sons and new bride. Several “Glamour Shots” of my new aunt also peppered the wall.
In looking back to the vacation shots, it finally hit me. It looked as though my uncle and his boys had picked up a hooker along the way.
At any rate, I shared the words that I planned to deliver at his funeral and after my aunt, five cousins, my mother, the preacher, the funeral director, the neighbor and some guy I didn’t even know all weighed in, it was determined that I was not cut out for the eulogy job.
My mother literally begged me not to do it.
So far, dipping my feet into the pool of the eulogy world has been an utterly disappointing experience. Not being one who gives up easily, I ask that you indulge me with another shot:
My uncle was a veteran of the Korean War. It’s officially called a “Police Action." My uncle would have assured you otherwise.
According to the U.S. Army Military History figures:
In it's first 100 years of existence, over 683,000 Americans lost their lives, with the Civil War accounting for 623,026 of that total (91.2%).
Comparatively, over the next 100 years, a further 626,000 Americans died through two World Wars and several more localized conflicts (World War 2 representing 65% of that total).
With two current theaters of operation, and potential opeations elsewhere in the world, that number continues to climb.
The statistics above represent more than numbers. They represent real people who gave their lives for real people. These men and women put their lives on the line in order to preserve and protect ideals and principals upon which our nation was founded.
Many more follow in their footsteps to do the same- understanding that they, too, might pay the ultimate price in doing so.
And, even though we don’t officially include first responders in our community celebrations on Memorial day, remember that they, too, put their lives on the line every day.
I love to write, but I simply cannot find the words to express a gratitude that rests deep within my heart for these people.
While an official holiday is a fitting tribute, their service and sacrifice should be celebrated year-round.
As I pray for the safe return of those who actively serve today, I also pause to humbly reflect upon the men and women who understood something larger than any of us.
Amen.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
