At my latest six-month Medicare checkup, I passed the memory test with flying colors.
“Dog… Table… Water.” Three for three.
Unfortunately, my cholesterol test wasn’t nearly as impressive. My doctor looked over his glasses and said, “John, you’ve got to get that cholesterol down. A low-carb diet and exercise are your best friends. Are you exercising?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great. How often? “
“Every day“
“How Far?”
(Didn’t want to compromise my integrity) “to the refrigerator”
He didn’t even smile.
“Exercise doesn’t have to be boring,” he said. “Find something you enjoy. Dancing is one of the best forms of exercise.”
Now that sounded promising.
Carol and I both love music. Back in the late ’70s I considered myself a certified Disco Duck. We figured dancing would lower my cholesterol and give us something fun to do together.
A few days later we spotted an ad on a paper placemat at a local diner.
FREE INTRODUCTORY DANCE CLASS
Perfect.
We walked in expecting couples gliding across the floor to music from the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. That would be great for us to dance the night away.
But..
Instead, we found about 35 women… and maybe 15 men.
The instructor clapped her hands.
“Welcome everyone! Tonight we’re going to learn… the Box Step!”
Many of us are north of 50 and have had enough time to determine. Who are the Oscars and who are the Felixes in your family? You might recall the hilarious series “The Odd Couple” , 2 divorced guys living together with Felix being the perfectionist and Oscar the slob and the non stop adventures with this type of relationship.
Here is an overview of the respective personalities:
Hotel
Felix
Checks in for one night.
Hangs up every shirt.
Folds socks and underwear into perfect little squares.
Makes the bed before leaving for breakfast.
Oscar
Staying one month.
Half the clothes are still in the suitcase.
The other half are decorating the floor.
Can’t find his toothbrush by Day Two.
Car
Felix
Washes it every Saturday.
Gas tank never below half.
Replaces floor mats and changes oil monthly.
Registration and proof of insurance documents – Laminated in a zippered pouch
Oscar
Running on fumes.
Three coffee cups of stains on the seats
#10 tattered envelope has 4 past years of registrations with the latest expired
Petrified McDonalds fries – 2019 under the seat
Refrigerator
Felix
Labels leftovers with description, date and time.
Everything organized by expiration date, carbs and calories
Ice maker produces perfectly square, clear ice
Oscar
Opens the refrigerator, sniffs, “ Still smells okay.”
Jar of jam with a thank you note from Jesus to the 3 wiseman
Fruit drawer is a penicillin factory
Ice maker is a glacier
Remote Control
Felix
Always puts it back.
Oscar
Where’s Waldo?
My wife is pure Felix and I am a pure card carrying Oscar.
She makes sure there are 2 softener sheets in the dryer,
I contribute a couple sharpies quarterly
The kitchen and dishes sparkle,
My empty, unwashed smoothie cup will need a sandblaster
Her clothes are perfectly separated and folded in a drawer
Mine looks like waste management trash day
Now it’s your turn.
Which one are you?
Better yet…
Who is the biggest Oscar or Felix in your family? An example?
Over the years, Celebrations of Life have become the norm—and for good reason. Instead of gloomily hovering around a casket, reading flower labels like they’re scorecards, and hearing “Sorry for your loss” a hundred times, we started doing things differently.
Honestly, I never liked that phrase. Loss? That’s what the bank says when they review your business profit and loss statements and deny your loan. Mom or Dad isn’t a loss—they’re a person.
The Oddities of Funerals
The funeral industry has its own language and rituals that can feel absurd if you stop to think about it:
The Showing: “We’re going to John’s showing” sounds like a movie premiere. The body isn’t a first-run film.
Guest Books: Has anyone ever later said, “Let’s dig out Aunt Dorothy’s wake book in the attic and review who was there and who should have been there.
The Wake: Another misnomer—nobody in a casket is waking up.
Obituaries: Filled with saintly resumes—“Devoted father, pillar of the community, adored his Cocker Spaniel.” And that line about being “survived by” everyone? If you’re dead, you ain’t surviving anything.
Embalming
Should this be softened a bit? Maybe just Prepping the body for the “showing”? Aunt Mildred got embalmed this afternoon. Sounds like she passed out at a college keg party.
Corpse
That doesn’t sound like much of a bucket list goal. Yea George had a 30 year successful career in Customer Service at Geico and now he’s a corpse.
Casket/ Coffin
I thought they were the same. A casket is 4 sided box with handles, hinges, fancy tanned , polished metal, fancy satin sheets, and a lifetime warranty. A coffin is usually wood, no hinges so got to pop the top for the showing, the handles are for decor only. That could be a bit of a challenge for pall bearers. Sold “as is”.
No Shoes
Bodies, corpses, deceased are buried with no shoes. Apparently after death feet swell and they don’t fit. Shouldn’t be an issue. Doubt anyone will be hoofing to the 7/11 for a slurpy.
Hearse
Do we really need a $150,000 Cadillac Beast with a police escort for a three-mile drive to the cemetery?
Who gets what Stuff
Before the first shovel hits dirt, the drama begins. Who’s gonna get what? In our case, mom, the grandma’s and aunts all had beautiful, expensive jewelry. The sisters sucked those up like a used Hoover.
When Grandpa died we boys expected a windfall. Maybe 500 shares of stock. My younger brother had a downpayment on a Silverado Diesel Duramax. Told the finance manager, after he gets his inheritance he was going to wire the funds and pick it up.
Well he got Grandpa’s 25th anniversary watch (with a cracked screen) celebrating 25 years with the family business. Also got a pair of cuff links with grandpas initials. Only money he got after the will was his deposit.
Celebrating Life, Our Way
We learned early that life is too short to be sad all the time.
When my sister had only a month to live from an incurable lung disease, we threw her a going-away party. Cocktails, dinner, singing, stories, laughter—and no one said “Sorry for your loss.” My brother gave her an urn as a parting gift, and even the priest called it the most incredible sendoff he’d ever witnessed.
When Dad died, we went off-script again. The hearse made a detour to our family home, and we turned his casket into a bar for champagne, funny stories, songs, and a final rendition of Happy Trails. Funeral staff looked on in shock—but that’s exactly what Dad would have wanted.
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Mom’s Wicker Casket
Mom was a character, and nothing could honor her like something truly unique. We went casket shopping, but nothing felt right. The cheap ones were tin cans. The Cadillac models? Rustproof and waterproof—but still wrong.
Then we remembered her love for white wicker furniture. For 50 years, our porch had been full of it. Could we find a wicker casket? My youngest brother found one online, overnight from San Francisco—but it arrived in natural color. Mom would have turned over in her grave.
Solution? My sister called auto body shops, claiming she had a “couch” to paint. Measurements were odd, but the painter went along with it. Soon, the shop had photos of Corvettes, Mustangs, and—a pristine white wicker casket.
The grandkids even created a jingle:
A tisket, a tasket, Grandma’s buried in a wicker casket.
It was perfect. Funny, heartfelt, and uniquely Mom.
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The Takeaway
Funerals don’t have to be gloomy, awkward productions. They can be celebrations of life, laughter, stories, and even a little chaos. Our family learned this the hard way—but the memories? Unforgettable.
Sometimes, the best sendoff isn’t about tradition. It’s about honoring the person—quirks, humor, and all. And yes, it might include a white wicker casket, champagne, and a song.
You Cant Make this stuff up 