In the movie “When Harry Met Sally,” Harry and Sally were talking on the phone when Sally burst into tears because she was going to turn 40. Harry replied, “But that’s not for years.” To which Sally tearfully replied, “Yeah, but it’s out there.”
Death has me concerned. There is a whole sector of the population that keeps insisting that death is ‘out there’ for everyone. Some people keep insisting that it might even happen to me someday. I’m not a big fan of death. I hate when it happens to people I know and I’m even less enthusiastic about the idea that it might happen to me. There’s a tiny, tiny part in the back of my brain, one particular brain cell perhaps, that keeps trying to speak up and tell me that some day I may even die. Fortunately all the other brain cells called a meeting and decided to shout down this one rebel cell whenever it decides to open it’s big, fat piehole. I’ve decided to try a different approach to death. Well, a different approach to my potential death. Death is fine for other people, but I’m just not going to do it. The way I look at it is this: Death has never happened to me before, so where is the proof that it’s going to happen to me? Just because mankind had never successfully flown before the Wright brothers, they didn’t just give up and stay on the ground did they? I think too many people give in to the myth that is death. Think about it. When you were a kid and you stopped believing in Santa Claus, he stopped existing for you didn’t he? Well, has anyone ever decided not to believe in death? That’s my plan. Like I said, it’s never happened to me, so I have no proof that it will.