And When I Die


every time

Cranking out 1000-mile years as I do, I sometimes speculate on when I might not do that any more.

I told Lisa that after I die, I don’t particularly want to be buried, but rather, see if there are any usable parts left over that might benefit someone else.  Y’know, like my eyes or my thigh muscles or my boots.  Not my knees.

I told Lisa that what would spark me would be for her to put a bench in some wilderness areas.  Place a loveseat in any one of a number of wooded areas where I have enjoyed hiking, and mention my name.  A catchy phrase would be fun too.

We’ve been puzzling for a time about what that catchy phrase might be.  We came up with a number of them but finally, one rose to the top of my list.  Affix a memorial plaque to the bench with my name, d.o.b., d.o.d. and this phrase…


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