Thursday, February 23, 2012

Early Morning Valhalla

Live every day like it could be your last. At least that's what my neighbor the Viking keeps telling me.

Every morning when I struggle, coffee in hand, down to my mailbox to ignore my mail in person, I see my smiling, shirtless, Nordic friend mowing the lawn, tending the weeds and sitting idly in his buckskin lawnchair.

When I'm reaching for the paper that I'm preparing to throw away...he shouts "Today is a good day to die!"

I wonder about that actually.

I'm not really looking forward to kicking the bucket, the second time, anytime soon. I usually don't think about it, saving that sort of melancholy pondering for midnight reads of my latest philosophical books.

Is there a good day to die? Hmm. I suppose it goes without saying that if you having millions in the bank, a town full of people who think you're swell, a healthy canine companion, and a family by your side who love you...that's a good start. But should it be on a Wednesday? A Thursday? Or is dying a weekend thing? I'm not looking forward to finding out either way.

What is it about the lawn that makes that damn Viking so cheerful? Will a rock thrown up by the lawnmower blades still qualify him for Valhalla should he meet such an ignominious end?

I guess its not a matter so much about being a good day to die as it is about being a good day to live life to the fullest. And that should be every day.

"It is a good day to die!!!" screams my neighbor the Viking.

Fine. Just do whatever you're doing more quietly...and later in the day.

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