By Grant McGee: Freedom columnist
It was vacation time. South of Brownwood, Texas, we zipped by a cemetery.
Apparently there was going to be a funeral that day. A green canopy had been set up, under it were burgundy velvet covered chairs probably there for the family. And there was the mound of dirt covered over with green felt.
The scene got me to pondering.
“So are you gonna throw me a funeral when I go?” I asked The Lady of the House as the cemetery scene disappeared in the rearview mirror.
“Do you NEED a funeral?” asked The Lady of the House.
“Well, how about a little party?” I asked.
“A LITTLE party?”
“Well, you know, just a few friends. Well, maybe some of my old DJ buddies from Roswell and back East, the kids and maybe my Cousin Barb. Oh, don’t forget The Holy Man.”
“Just a little party, hunh?” said The Lady of the House.
“Yeah, you know, some chips and dips. Maybe some sandwiches. Maybe my mom’s ham with macaroni and cheese. Maybe…”
“Oh no,” said The Lady of the House. “I’m throwing you a New Orleans funeral, the best money can buy. There’ll be a big carriage with a matched set of plumed horses and a Dixieland band playing the whole way down the street. I’ll even hire extra mourners.”
“No, no, no,” I said. “I don’t need a fancy ceremony, that’s a waste of money. You’ll need it when I’m gone.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said The Lady of the House.
“Well, maybe just a little party, eh?”
“I tell you what, you have one of your good buddies arrange that party.”
“Hey,” she said, “Has it occurred to you that I’ll be too sad to arrange a party?”
“Oh,” I said. “So you’ll miss me when I’m gone?”
“Yes dear, I will miss you.”
“That’s good enough,” I said.