Saturday, February 18, 2012

February 18: Neglected Grave, Death on the Mind, New Cartoon

Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name, EBENEZER SCROOGE.

On this day, when a good portion of the world is focusing on New Jersey and Whitney Houston's funeral, I found myself drawn to this passage of A Christmas Carol.  It's at the end of the book, and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come has brought Scrooge to his own "neglected grave."  By this time, Scrooge has pretty much realized how much of his life he has wasted.  This visit to the cemetery is the last push Scrooge needs to truly repent.
I wonder how many of us would change the way we live our lives if we were privy to scenes of our own deaths.  Certainly, if Whitney Houston could have had a Scrooge moment a few years ago, seen her distraught daughter and her own not-so-glorious end, she may still be with us today.  Instead, she is gone.  I know if I saw my death or my grave, I would probably have to reevaluate my life a little bit.

Maybe I would not be typing this post this morning at McDonald's.  Maybe I would be in a huge house, in my study, typing my next bestselling novel.  Maybe I'd be at some research library, gathering information for my newest, award-winning work of non-fiction.  Maybe I'd be at a university as a visiting poet, reading from my Pulitzer-Prize-winning collection of poems.  On the other hand, maybe I'd be working at a homeless shelter, handing out blankets or bowls of soup.  Maybe I'd be a missionary in the Congo, helping orphans.  I suppose it would all depend on the circumstances of my death, on what the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come showed me.

I'd like to think I'd be doing exactly what I'm doing right now.  Sitting with my family at McDonald's on a Saturday morning, watching my kids play, typing this post.  I'd like to think I wouldn't change a single thing about my life.  It's all about being satisfied with what you have.  I don't know of too many individuals who are that satisfied with ther lives.  Maybe Donald Trump.  Oprah Winfrey.  Kim Kardashian (I'm not sure it's possible for her to be that self-aware).  Even people who seem to have everything--money, fame, looks--can be absolutely miserable.  Whitney Houston, for instance.

Today, Saint Marty is satisfied with his life.  No grave-side visits necessary.

Confessions of Saint Marty

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