Monday, September 24, 2012
That day has rolled around again this year. It’s my birthday. They say it’s just a number but the reality is it’s much more than that. It’s a very strong reminder of the flowing sands of time.
Now that there are fewer years ahead of me than behind me, I find my thoughts turning occasionally to death (bad) and Heaven (good). In my spare moments I’ve started designing my own personal Heaven.
Mike and all our dogs and cats will be there of course, as will the friends I love. No need to name them, you know who you are.
The house will be on a lake. I don’t care if it’s a small lake or a Great Lake, but it will be big enough for the dogs to play “stick” and for a couple of friendly whales, dolphins and manatees to take up residence. Of course there will be a long dock where the Inky dogs and I will sit and watch the sun come up.
No need for a grand house. In fact, the one we’re living in right now will be fine. I’m guessing there won’t be laundry in Heaven so no need to request a larger laundry room.
My mother won’t be there but my father and sister will. No in-laws. Well, except my sister’s husband, Gordon. He was a good guy. I hope the people who aren’t in my personally designed Heaven will have their own and be happy in it.
We’ll work, of course, but I don’t know what we’ll be doing. Mike could do voice work for Heaven’s radio station (WJOY) while I could put out the daily newspaper. Maybe we’d call it the Good News.
Chocolate. It will literally grow on trees. When we look in the mirror we’ll see what we want to see and the people who love us will see us as they remember us.
There will be all kinds of animals and no cages. They’ll all just get along and be there for us to pamper.
In my personal brand of Heaven the only sports team will be the Cleveland Browns during their 70’s Cardiac Kids era. If this conflicts with Brian Sipe’s Heaven, I can pass on the sports.
Everyone will have a charcoal grill and we’ll have cook-outs every weekend, taking turns, house to house.
Musical instruments will be everywhere. Everyone who plays will sound great and all the rest will sing with the voices of angels.
No one will ever have heard of Oprah. There will be no politics and no religion, just lots of gratitude for having gotten in by the skins of our teeth.
So there you have it. Another year older. As my old friend Joe Baumgarten says, I’m still waiting for someone to come along and hang the “All Grown Up” sign around my neck.