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Three men were asked what they would want to be said about them at their funerals. The first one said, "I want someone to say I was a wonderful father." The second man said, "I want someone to say I was the greatest baseball player ever." The last man said, "I want someone to say, 'He's moving, he's moving!'"


Good News?

After his wife died, the uncle of one of my friends decided to plan ahead and order a grave-site marker for himself. A week or so later, he came home to find a message on his answering machine. It was from a young woman at the company where he'd placed his order.

“I don't know if it's good news or bad,” she said, “but your headstone is ready.”


On doctor's orders, Melling had moved to Arizona. Two weeks later, he was dead. His body was shipped back home, where the undertaker prepared it for the services.

Melling's brother came in to make sure everything was taken care of. "Would you like to see the body?" the undertaker asked.

"I might as well take a look at it before the others get here." The undertaker led him into the next room and opened the top half of the casket. He stood back and proudly displayed his work.

"He looks good," the brother said. "Those two weeks in Arizona were just the thing for him."


After attending the funeral services for a business friend, a San Francisco man had planned to hurry back to his office, but his car got wedged in behind the hearse. He followed sedately in line toward the cemetery until he came to an intersection, where he ducked off and away.
     About a half mile farther on he noticed, in the rear-view mirror that the entire funeral parade was still tagging along behind him.
     Seized with an understandable panic, he stepped on the gas, skidded around a turn, parked off the road and pretended he was an utter stranger changing a tire. The procession drove mournfully past and disappeared down the wrong road - where, he's never had the nerve to inquire.
          --San Francisco Examiner


We Waited In That Office
     After waiting hours in a crowded doctor's office, one patient stood up to go. He said, “Well, I guess I'll just go home and die a natural death.”


A friend's wife answered the doorbell and faced a young man selling plots in one of our large cemeteries. When she told him that they already had a plot in another cemetery, he seemed uncertain as to his next move. But he recovered to say politely, “I hope you'll be very happy there.”


     A New Hampshire farmer had been urged to attend the funeral of his neighbor's third wife. “But I'm not goin',” he announced to his own wife
     “Goodness sakes, why not?” she asked.
     “Well, Mary, I'm beginnin' to feel kinda awkward about goin' so often without anything of the sort to ask him back to.”
          --Nashua Cavalier


     A dilemma occurred at the deathbed of one of the many millionaires who had moved from New York to sunny California. His family had to ask him an extremely sensitive question.
     A son finally put the question to him: “Since you have a cemetery plot back in New York and a plot in California, where do you wish to be buried?”
     The old man looked up and with a twinkle in his eye said, “Surprise me!”


Sign on a country road: “Drive carefully; there isn't a hospital within 50 miles.”


The city of Kissimmee, Florida, sold its old parking meters for $5 each to any citizen who could think of a use for them. One woman bought one to set aside for eventual use as a tombstone. She felt is would be appropriate, since the flag bore the word “Expired.”


Chauncey Depew, Asked what kind of exercise he took, answered: “I get my exercise acting as a pallbearer to my friends who exercise.”
          --Portland Sunday Telegram


Nothing in this life became him like the leaving it.


Life, death, rebirth - if I have learned anything from my work as a naturalist, from spending time in the field, it's a belief in the cycle of things, the truth of natural processes; seeing the world whole, even holy.
     I remember as a young child walking the Uwintas with my grandmother, stepping over fallen trees, and at one point having her bend down over a log that was in the process of decaying, and picking up those wood chips, smelling them and saying,” Good death.” And then we walked on.
     Change is growth , growth is life, and life is death. What are we afraid of?
               --Terry Tempest Williams


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