First of all, let me state for the record that I love funerals. I mean, what’s not to like? People dressed in black, talking in whispers, singing gushy sentimental songs out of key.
My sister, Crash, claims that she hates them. Which worked out in her favor because she recently just managed to get herself uninvited to one. She finds this upsetting, so I just want to remind her that she is totally invited to mine when I have one. In fact, I expect her to attend. And, just to please her, I already have a smash-bang good one planned, with a flash mob and everything. It’s going to put the “fun” back in funeral, I promise.
So, we’ll both sit this one out, Crash. It’s okay.
I want a flash mob at my funeral.
I attended a funeral the other day, which often gets me to thinking about what my own ceremony will look like. As some of the other attendees spoke at the podium, I mentally checked off each of the admirable qualities possessed by the deceased:
Great cook. Check.
Great homemaker. Check.
Nice to everyone. Check.
Never spoke an unkind word. Check.
Opened her house to everyone. Check.
Pretty much all of the things no one will say about me at my funeral.
I’m afraid it’s going to be a very short ceremony. Unless I throw a Catholic mass in, but I think we established yesterday that would not be a good idea for various reasons.
Let’s see, notable things about me – well, I guess we could drape the poster of my Awards Shelf over my coffin – except there isn’t going to be a coffin. Cremation, of course. So, we could drape the Awards Shelf poster over my urn. That will make my achievements look bigger, at least. After all, not everyone can claim that he or she was the Adult Spelling Bee Champion of San Antonio for 2011 AND won the Lifesaver Award from Dimples for saving the entire household from a very confused snake.
Still, I’m thinking, to distract everyone from the fact that there is little of note to list from my life other than being the mother of Wonderbutt, Mrs. P.I.B., and Dimples, that some entertainment is in order.
Ever since I saw the flash mob the Black Eyed Peas did for Oprah of “I’ve Gotta Feeling, I’ve thought that it would be fun to be involved in one of those. Of course, if I’m dead, I won’t be too involved, I guess.
The other disadvantage of this plan is that I am pretty sure Cap’n Firepants would not oversee the completion of it. Not because of his grief. But because he hates public displays of anything and he hates to dance. Even supervising it would probably be too onerous for him.
And, as I start going through my list of family and friends, I am discouraged by the number of people that would probably refuse to participate. The Dictator is the only person that comes to mind who might actually be interested in the project. Coincidentally, as if you couldn’t tell by her nickname, The Dictator would probably be a great organizer, as well. But I think she would have a very short list of volunteers. Despite her nickname, there is only so much you can do to force people into participating in a flash mob.
And, since I plan to live for a very long time, most of my attendants, including The Dictator, will probably be too feeble for doing intricate dance moves. I can just picture a bunch of elderly people in wheelchairs and on crutches suddenly breaking out into a performance of “I’ve Gotta Feeling” to the great chagrin of whoever has been conned into presiding over my good-bye ceremony.
Of course, not all flash mobs require dancing.
Perhaps I need to rethink this whole plan. Or, maybe, the multitude of people who will be following my blog by then will come together in an act of solidarity and perform an amazing Around the Globe Flash Mob in my honor.
Fine. I’m rethinking the plan.