I'm healthy and strong,
don't be alarmed.
I just got to thinking,
since I'll never have much wealth to divide,
and very few folks to get what I leave,
what should I put in my will?
I once read that any old will,
a few words scribbled across a page,
and signed,
is so much better
than no will at all.
So,
if the servers of Daily Kos
still have this diary on file when I die,
in thirty years or so,
then this could well serve
as my will:
My body is to be donated
to the University of Kansas Medical School:
KU School of Medicine
So there won't be any funeral expense,
no fees paid for embalming and dressing up my corpse;
no casket to buy.
My small term life insurance payout,
or savings in my wife's name,
if we let the insurance lapse after I'm about eighty,
in 2035,
that money will be used
to feed and entertain
a large group of family and friends
(it will be a large group,
won't it?)
at a memorial service.
I want a catering service to serve
all of the following:
Bacon and eggs.
Waffles,
with options of
butter pecan syrup,
or honey,
or molasses.
Cabbage and potato and celery soup,
with real butter and cheese slices on the side,
to be thrown in the hot soup,
to make it a high fat meal,
for those who want to know how to eat,
to live to be past eighty,
if that's how far I make it.
Toast available,
with real butter,
and peanut butter,
for the waffles and the toast.
If anyone wishes to speak
religious words at my memorial service,
I demand that I get equal time,
by someone reading these words,
over and over again,
to take up as much time as the religionists:
No matter what you say,
you have come here today
because you liked Mark,
the deceased,
or you like others here,
or you like the food,
or some combination of those three.
You are not here to honor any god,
or any enduring spirit of Mark.
Once again,
either you used to enjoy Mark's company,
or something about Mark,
or you want the company of others here in attendance,
or you want the food.
If you claim some supernatural goal:
I love you,
but I do not agree.
Look around you;
regular humans,
animals of your own species,
are comforting each other,
or at least keeping company together.
To claim the comfort
is caused by something supernatural
could be seen as an insult
to those, your fellow humans.
Someone must call my first wife's family,
the Weigel family of Hays, Kansas,
to give them the date of my death,
so they can have it chiseled into my headstone,
the headstone they already paid for,
years ago.
Someone also must call the cemetery folks,
here in Wichita,
where my parents are buried,
so I can have markers put in place
for me and my first wife and my second wife,
all close to my parents' grave.
Someone call my favorite nephew,
Bill Pennington.
Don't call my brother;
he'll likely be dead before me,
from lung cancer.
No need to call my sisters.
One of them will likely die before me from lung cancer,
and the other two:
they didn't make it to my first wife's funeral;
don't bother them about showing up at mine.
If my wife, Tonia is alive,
she gets everything.
If she's dead before me,
give everything away to Goodwill.
I won't have much money,
just a big pile of junk;
an old butter churn,
a hurricane lamp and a farmer's lantern,
a few tools,
a lot of books,
some record albums, and cd's and dvd's, and vhs tapes, and cassette tapes.
Give it all to Goodwill.
The best things from me
will be memories of me,
in the hearts and minds
of those who've known me best,
whoever they may be.
Will any of you here at Daily Kos
have something from me when I die?
Thanks for reading.