The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. —Mark Twain
We rarely get to choose when we die. If your day was today, would you be ready?
Looking at the headlines this morning was a bit depressing. Golfing great Arnold Palmer died at age 87. Miami Marlin’s ace pitcher Jose Fernandez was killed in a boating accident.  Mylan Hicks, currently a defensive back in the Canadian Football League and formerly of the San Francisco 49ers, was killed in a Calgary nightclub shooting. While I had no personal connection with any of them, I certainly respect their accomplishments and the impact their deaths have on their respective sports. We’ve mentioned multiple times that this is being a lousy year, but the past couple of weeks have been especially brutal it seems. Two friends have lost their fathers in the past two weeks. Other friends have lost childhood playmates way too early in their lives.
Death surrounds us all the time. We are subconsciously aware of that fact, but there are times when it seems to get too close for comfort. When we see so many die around us we start to feel uncomfortable. Dealing with the reality of our own mortality is not easy. No one really wants to die, especially not right now. Yet, there are so many ways in which death can sneak up and take us unexpectedly.
China lost control of a space station and it could crash into a US city. Imagine driving to work one morning and a chunk of space station falls out of the clear blue sky and you die. This is the reality in which we now live.
Mitigating The Risk
Before walking the dog each morning, I’m careful to check the weather. Regardless of what the forecast might have said the night before, weather has a nasty habit of changing. This morning, there were storms in the area. Lightning struck less than a mile away. So, we watched radar and timed our walk to minimize the risk of getting fried on the sidewalk. That wouldn’t be a good way to start the morning.
We know the potential for dying is out there. We all have those preventative actions we take to mitigate the risk that we might die on any given day. Eating veggies is one of those things we know pushes death out a little bit. Same goes for driving safely and crossing the street at the crosswalk with the light. Most people try to not do stupid things that have a high-risk factor for ending up dead. Even when doing something silly like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, we take the precaution of using a reasonably good parachute packed by someone we trust.
Yet, no matter how many precautions we might take, death sometimes has a way of finding us at the least expected and most inconvenient moments. Be sure, Jose Fernandez didn’t think the risks were too great when he got on that boat. Â None of us see all the risks. No matter what we do, sometimes death just shows up and says, “Hey, you’re coming with me now.” We don’t get any choice in the matter.
Being Ready To Die
If all the recent deaths around me have done anything, they have reminded me that I need to go ahead and get some kind of burial insurance. Sounds morbid, doesn’t it? Yet, all of my experience tells me it’s a smart move. My parents had burial insurance. They bought it when they were in their 30s. They were able to pre-pay for their funerals, including the caskets, so that when that time inevitably came for them my brother and I didn’t have to worry about the cost or wondering what they might have wanted. That act alone was one of the kindest things they ever did. When you have a parent die, the details of paying for and planning a funeral are not where you want to spend your time.
There’s something about actually making such a purchase, though, that feels uncomfortable, as though we’re tempting fate. In my mind, I know that my parents lived another 40 years after pre-paying for their arrangements. Yet, there’s this nagging feeling that if I take the same precaution it’s like thumbing my nose at death, taunting it to come and get me. Â The same applies to life insurance. Both make the lives of our families so much easier, especially if our death is unexpected. Still, there’s no getting around that icky feeling that if you make that purchase you’re tempting fate.
Being ready to die is as much an attitude as anything, though. We have to be comfortable with death, okay with the concept of no longer existing in this world. I no longer think that we need to know what happens next. If we were meant to know the universe would provide a reliable, believable way of telling us. It hasn’t. We’ve made up our own myths over the millions of years, but when we get down to it, we have to be okay with just going. Period. Let whatever comes next, if anything, take care of itself.
Remembering to Live
Like the Mark Twain quote at the top of this page, being satisfied with our life makes it easier to be okay with the inevitability of death. No one should obsess over their own death; it’s not only unhealthy, it prevents  one from making the most of life. I’m not talking about being happy, mind you. Happiness is a temporal state and in that moment when some jackass cuts you off in traffic “happy” isn’t exactly the emotion one feels at the time. Rather, contentedness is more what I’m going for; that sense that my life isn’t perfect and I’m okay with that.
Are we content? I’m not, not really. There are still things I want to be doing, not bucket list things like winning a Pulitzer and such, but everyday things such as finding the next great supermodel and teaching my youngest son to drive and regaining some fluency in French and Italian. I have in my mind a level of activity that I’ve let slip. Having been there once, I know it can be achieved. I let go, though. I want that contentedness back.
What about you? If a chunk of that Chinese space station were to fall on you today (don’t worry, it won’t … yet) you’d certainly be disappointed that you didn’t have more warning, but would you be content with where your life is right now? What would it take to get you to that point in your life?
I fully expect to live long enough to be a pain in the ass to my grandchildren, assuming at least one of my sons gets around to providing some. I’m not expecting to die.
But then, not many people ever are. Â Perhaps we all need to do better prep work. Try to not die today, okay? I think our quota is full for the rest of the year.
Wake Up, September Is Ending
It is always with excitement that I wake up in the morning wondering what my intuition will toss up to me, like gifts from the sea. I work with it and rely on it. It’s my partner. —Jonas Salk
The end of September signals a time to wake up and realize the year is nearly gone
I hate that stupid Greenday song. Curse Billie Joe Armstrong for having written it. Curse the stupid video which is entirely too long and much too depressing. Of course, I have both the song and images from the video stuck in my head whether I want them there or not. They’re driving me nuts.
Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my fathers come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are
As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends
What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? How does this song help me in any way other than as a reminder that, oh yeah, we’re about to enter  the fourth quarter so any goals we had set for the year we either complete now or pretend we never brought them up. Here it is the end of September. Before we know it the snow will be flying. There are things we need to get done.
There Goes The Neighborhood
Looks like the whole planet may be ending its September phase. The news that the atmosphere has surpassed carbon levels of 400 ppm (that’s parts per million for those of you who slept through science class) definitely puts us in that range of being glad I need to pay my AARP dues. While the number really is more symbolic than anything, it is a wake up call that we might want to start looking for alternative places for our grandchildren or great-grandchildren to live. They certainly won’t be hanging out on this planet in a couple hundred years or less.
SpaceX and Tesla CEO and probably the closest thing we have to a real-life Tony Stark, Elon Musk, seems to think colonizing Mars is our best bet. On one hand, I would like to think that if anyone can actually pull off that project it would be Stark, er … Musk. At the same time, though, the difficulty he has had with some of SpaceX’s rockets recently, especially that one mysteriously blowing up on the launchpad, give me a moment’s pause. With all due respect, I don’t want to be heading to a new home and end up having elementary schools named after me. I’m not that hero.
We need to figure out something, though. September is typically the lowest month for atmospheric carbon dioxide. The situation gets worse from here. I know I wouldn’t plan on buying any beachfront property anytime soon unless you’re looking at, oh, maybe Middle Tennessee. Maybe Dollywood can add a beach resort in a few years. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? Yeah, let’s run with that idea.
Arnold Palmer Died, So Did Golf
Actually, the game was on life support before the legendary golfer hit the eternal 19th hole this week. I’ve never been a huge fan of the game largely because I’m not any good at playing it and also because it is one of the most stupid sports to ever be televised. Watching maple sap dripping from a tree trunk would be more exciting and at the end you could make syrup. The Scots were cursing us when they invented golf. That’s the only reasonable explanation.
Major equipment providers are ditching the sport, though, because it’s not “connecting” with Millennials. Rounds of golf played are down. Attendance at tournaments is down. There’s no money to be made there anymore, at least, not like there was when Boomers discovered the sport some 40 years ago. Arnold Palmer was a big part of the golf explosion of the 70s. As he sits down at that eternal watering hole for a round of his favorite drink (lemonade and ice tea carefully prepared and mixed), he’s joined by an entire generation that once thought golf was really cool. They’re all dead now. No one living gives a fuck about the sport.
The question facing club owners now is what to do with all that land full of sand and random holes once no one is interested in wasting whole days standing out there either getting sunburned or avoiding lightening. Might this not only spell the end of golf, but the end of those pretentious members-only clubs that have long been bastions of racism, elitism, and bigotry? More than we could do without the sport, we definitely wouldn’t miss the dismissive attitude. There was a rainbow over Palmer’s home town after his funeral. Maybe that’s a sign.
Good-bye Wonder Woman Fantasies
You know the world has changed when you wake up one morning and find that Wonder Women is definitely queer. Actually, she’s just not that into the entire male gender because they don’t exist in her home of Themyscira. Lead writer for the series, Greg Rucka, confirmed as much in an interview this  week. He explains it this way:
It’s supposed to be paradise. You’re supposed to be able to live happily. You’re supposed to be able — in a context where one can live happily, and part of what an individual needs for that happiness is to have a partner — to have a fulfilling, romantic and sexual relationship. And the only options are women. … But an Amazon doesn’t look at another Amazon and say, ‘You’re gay.’ They don’t. The concept doesn’t exist.
Of course, we know plenty of women who wouldn’t mind if the concept of men didn’t exist. That’s another wake up call we should probably answer at some point. We have also known for sometime, in the back of our minds, that there was no way Wonder Woman could really be that into guys. To come from Themyscira to the US would have to be rather like being condemned to a hell full of mysoginistic, sexist assholes. Our brains know that but our groins haven’t wanted to admit it. Time to wake up from the fantasy, boys. None of this world’s Wonder Women are looking for anyone with a penis. Get used to it.
Time To Move On
The end of September is a sign that we have got to move on, dude. Summer’s frivolities are nice, but they don’t last forever. They shouldn’t last forever. We need to wake up and get some shit done. We both know we need to drop a few pounds before the holiday food binge starts. Don’t tell yourself any more lies, the pumpkin spice cravings are just the first warning sign. Hit the gym now so you can enjoy the guilty pleasures later.
Oh, and if you’re not dating anyone, now’s the time to fix that problem. You know your mom is going to be so very disappointed if you show up at another Thanksgiving with your lame roomate in tow. He burps too loud and his fart jokes aren’t funny. Wake up, download a half-dozen dating apps and get busy. You know you’ll dump whomever by Valentine’s Day anyway. Is it so bad that you take a few months to make your mother happy?
Someone needs to write a new song about September. Eleven years and I am so very sick of this one. Wake up. Let’s get going. We can still turn this year into a win. Maybe. At least save it from being a complete disaster. Not voting Republican helps. Eyes open? Here we go.
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