I was told I died.
You'd think I would've noticed that, but my friend told me he had it on
good authority. I guess I should've
asked when and how, and maybe most especially, who came up with this?! It reminds me when I was a teenager and told
Mike had died. I was with the
distraught family when Mike walked in after a weekend of carousing. He was concerned to see his mom crying. He put his hand on her shoulder and asked, "Who died?". Scared her to death
herself! Everybody had a good
laugh. Turned out Mike's wallet had
been stolen and the thief had it when he totaled his car. I guess it wasn't a good ending for the
thief, but was a happy relief for Mike's family and me.
My premature death notice was one of those things when you
learn the world is smaller than we notice most of the time. A friend of mine mentioned an acquaintance's
name. "I know him! I was best friends with his sister when we
were in school!" I happily
gossiped and mentioned other classmates from days gone by. I salivated at the memory of Dave's mom's
homemade apple strudel. My friend
repeated some of these names to Dave and eventually passed on my greetings for
me. That's when Dave said I was dead. Our mutual friend assured him I looked alive
last week. I poked myself and said I
was pretty sure that was still true. I
feel ripped off I didn't get a glowing obituary in the paper and condolence
cards, though I feel kind of sorry if anyone actually grieved over my premature
death.
I might be more fussed about Dave's belief in my
non-existence if I hadn't lived through that time when it happened to
Mike. I saw Mike a few years ago and I
know a mistaken obit isn't a harbinger of something to come. Maybe Dave got me mixed up with someone
else? Maybe my ex still spreads lies
about me? Whatever. Maybe I should have lunch at Kleifeld's
Restaurant in Willoughby where I always see someone I know from the old days to
prove I'm still here and still trying to make the most out of the time I have
on the planet.
Sometimes I'm happy to be included in a large family and the
hometown community. Sometimes it makes
me want to scream. Really, people --
gossip about someone else! Oh, but
didn't I gossip a bit about Dave and others to my friend? Oops.
Well, yeah, but, you know, public service announcements or something, as
I mutter to myself about hypocrisy and try to think up a good rationalization
to excuse myself. I don't spill all
the dirt I know about people at any rate.
That's got to count for something, right? Um, yeah. Glass houses.
None of this seems apropos to the holiday, but it is the
current gossip. I thought it was
funnier than my non-successful trip to the store in search of gifts. I walked out with a $1 desk calendar for
myself and nothing else. I hate
shopping. I don't know how all the rest
of you manage this every year. I think
I'll be taking my own advice from last week and bake some presents.
I'll take suggestions.
What are your favorite sweets to receive?
