Funerals are typically the last place on Earth I'd rather be. There's something about them, perhaps the atmosphere, the tears and glum faces--the general ambiance isn't warm and cuddly.
Today was the funeral of my wife's grandmother, who'd been battling pancreatic cancer ever since I'd had to the pleasure to get to know her. Over a hundred people came to pay their last respects to a woman who by all accounts was one of this world's true gems. And it's not often one can say that these days, with all of the adversity and the evolution surrounding the modern American family.
Death causes me to ponder my own fate, my own life. When I was a little kid, I don't quite recall ever wanting to grow-up to be a Director of Finance at a business school. Admittedly, I gave-up wanting to play professional basketball in junior high when I realized 6-foot white guys who can't jump rarely make it to the NBA. Then I began to summize where I wanted to be forever. The depressing part is, is that I'm no closer to discovering that reality than I was 15 years ago.
Lots of people define their lives by how much money they make. Where are they on the good 'ole corporate ladder before they reach their ceiling. Days of slumming two hours a day in the car, followed by 9 hours of party-planning, reports and conference calls for thirty years isn't exactly what I call living. Unfortunately, that's the track I'm on now. I always swore that would never be me, but now, that's road I'm on right now. It's not too late for me to change course, but I'm now to the point where it might be all that's there for me. You know, that might just be okay.
I can be a husband and one day a father, and I can work twelve hour days, commute, sleep five hours a day and be a good person. I can raise my children to be good people, and provide for them everything in the world. Money is nice, but in the end, it's just you and your Maker. Maybe one day I'll have a family that loves me, and at my funeral everyone who's ever known me can attest that I was a good man. I suppose that's not a bad ending, either.
On a lighter note...The Ghostbusters Videogame came out this week, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to pass it up along with the Blu Ray release of the original film on its 25th anniversary. The game sports the prime cast members reprising their roles with a script written by Harold Ramis and Dan Akroyd. Wait, I think I just talked myself into it.
Oh and by the way, I'm watching some show about a husband and wife that have sextuplets. Of course, my wife has this on as I sit writing on the floor. Now, tell me what's to fascinating about two people feeding kids, cleaning the house and going to the grocery store? Oh, that's right; there's SIX kids! That makes it so much better. And we just learned that the father is obese, and he's complaining about drinking protein shakes. Wow, I take protein shakes everyday, too! Why is this crap on television, and more importantly, why is my wife watching it?
Until Next Time...
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