I Burned a Eulogy Log at Christmas

I have been running on the beach everyday for about 2 months. This does not qualify me for a torch carry in the next Olympics or even, sadly, a smaller shirt. I have not lost a single pound. I realize that I am in my 40’s and my youthful metabolism is somewhere in a basement box with all of my high school yearbooks but there has to be some other explanation. I do take some solace that I have stopped the continual weight gain that was adding on of a pound each week since Christmas dinner. I have now reached stasis, that elusive state in nature that is not supposed to even exist. I have become like a laundry mat’s change machine. I have the same amount going in as going out. Buying more change machines does not result in more profits and I suspect that more exercise would only result in more eating. My male friends tell me I am not losing weight because I am adding muscle. I asked why I needed more muscle…they said “to carry all of that fat.”

Adding literal injury to insult, I pulled my calf muscle while running the other morning. This muscle is the size of New Jersey so this had no small effect. I am sure it would have gotten better but I iced it down so heavily that I got freezer burns that made walking even more difficult. I could not bare not exercising, however, so even after the burns had become open wounds, I continued to go for an ocean swim every day. I thought the salt water and sun would help heal it, not really paying attention to the fact that each outing attracted every carnivorous animal within 2 miles. The smaller, unseen animals won and now I have an infection. My 3 lb brain continues to hate me. Don’t ever let a religious person tell you that we have dominion on this planet, because we don’t. The world belongs to micro organisms; we are their guests, not their hosts.

So I have stopped swimming and frankly moving at any level of grace. Everybody has an opinion about running in the sand. It is either the best thing for you or it is the worst. I want to throw in the “We put a man on the moon but we can’t figure how to run properly” but, that is over used and frankly, they didn’t run so well when they were on the moon. I barely get around without a cane so that gives everyone the ammunition to say I told you so. Scientists have not figured out what type of shoe is best for running or whether shoes even help. I just watched a documentary and now it looks that running barefoot is the best method. Wow, I am stunned by the research. I expect that next month breast feeding will be given the seal of approval. Couch potatoes and intellectuals unite; you all continue to be idiots.

What makes it all worse is that I am suddenly feeling vulnerable and gimpy. Is this it? Is this the injury that propels me to hypertension and slurred speech? It feels like the end. It is as if I was on the top of a large amusement park slide to old age and I had been pushed off while I was not looking. If I was an Eskimo, my daughter would point out the front door to the barren tundra, sending the old man out to freeze.

And then on cue, a young salesman called me and wanted to know if I had made final plans for when I died. Unbelievable. I told him that I did not plan on dying, at least not in the traditional sense.
“Well, have you made plans, Mr. Bernie?” He used my name and called me Mr.; I was in worse shape than I thought.
“Yes, I have made final plans. I plan to die as the King of England with plenty of women, who really don’t like me, giving me a final sponge bath”. He was silent, he knew I was lying.
“Okay, actually, I plan on being eaten by a shark. And before you say anything, I am serious.” I added.
“If I was going to be eaten by a shark” He jumped in. “I would want our silver package. It would cover you completely if such an accident would occur. “
“Cover me with what, a police blanket to keep away the crabs? “ I said. “And besides, I it would not be an accident, it is my destiny”
“Better yet” he explained further “death should never be unexpected or unplanned and our gold plan is just the ticket. It is for those deaths that were not surprises”
I told him a better plan would be one that kept me out of the water but I mentioned I rarely controlled such impulses.
“Perfect!" He nearly screamed. “You need our Premier Package. It not only covers the expected and the unexpected but provides a great service for all of your friends and family so they can make the transition”
“Why?" I asked, “Are they going with me? And if they are it sounds a little bit like Hell. I am not sure I should have to pay for that”
He continued, “After your guests reflect and listen to the songs you have pre-selected, you could have one of your best chums,” He quickly corrected himself, “I’m sorry, one of your best friends give the eulogy."

I could just see my best friend doing my eulogy.
“Here lies Bernie… and here and here” as pointed to several Tupperware containers surrounded by pictures.
“Let’s call it like it is, the one thing I will miss about Bernie is his laugh. The one thing I won’t miss about him was his constant chattering on how he was going to be eaten by a shark. The bloke was right but if you are going to be dead on, so to speak, why not channel that prophetic gift into picking the next Microsoft or knowing which girl you were meant to spend your life with? He was more of a clairvoyant than Nostradamus and as ill fated as the Edzel.” Then they he would have to read something I had prepared.
“But I can say that he did not become someone different than what he wanted to be. And whether we can love him and agree, all he ever wanted was to love those around him and to be eaten in the sea”
I wrote the last part to make sure my best bud was remembered for reading ridiculous rhymes at my wake. I figure if I am being laid to rest, I don’t want anyone getting laid for fun.

One good thing about being dead is you don’t get to see who shows up at your funeral. Can you imagine? The people you swore would come, don’t and the people whose first names you forgot 10 times, show up, like the Korean store owner who I bought cigarettes from. He tells my family,
“He always greets me with a wonderful yellow stained smile. I will miss him. He always had correct change”
Ahhh, the warmth my family would feel. The real agony of death is when that one true beauty that you were always afraid to approach shows up in a black veil.
“If only he would have asked me out, I am sure I could have kept him out of the water”

I never saw that one coming.