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As I Lay Dying
When the Comtesse de Vercellis, well, passed gas while she was dying, she said, quite reasonably I think, “Good! A woman who can fart is not dead.” Then she died.
The Comtesse didn’t seem to care a whit about other people’s opinions of her. But surely she is an exception to the mass of humanity. Most people care—as they should—about the world’s opinion.
When you don’t care at all about the world’s opinion, you are a sociopath. When you care too much, you’re not enough your own man and the world is too much with you. As usual, the golden mean is the way to go.
I have a story about a man who cared too much about the world’s opinion.
The following episode is true, but I’ve changed names for reasons that will be obvious. When I taught at Middleboro State University, Professor Dubman died in front of his class. According to his students, Dubman was lecturing when his coherence began to go to pieces. Dubman wasn’t too coherent to begin with, so it took the students awhile to notice a difference.
But this time he started rambling more than usual and started to stare off into space. This went on for a minute or so. Then he collapsed, stumbling awkwardly on his way to the floor, spittle coming from his lips. His heart had stopped. A student rushed to the front and started artificial respiration. Dubman came back to life.
I talked to Dubman when he retuned to the University after a period of rehabilitation. “Kent,” he said, “you know what my last thoughts before death were? I was worrying about how foolish I looked as I began to fall apart. I landed on the floor rather awkwardly, you know.”
Afterwards, back in my office, I started thinking about what Dubman had said. Isn’t it sad that in the last moments of his life, his mind was dwelling on what people thought of him? There was a man who worried too much about the world’s opinion.
As we die, shouldn’t we be thinking of our wives, husbands, mothers? Or, even better, a great thought or two. “Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of. . . . . .Ack!”
Goethe was supposed to have cried out, “More light, more light!”
The artist and writer, Dereck Jarman, said, “I want the world to be filled with white fluffy duckies.”
W.C. Fields’ last words: “G-d damn the whole friggin’ world and everyone in it but you, Carlotta. (Carlotta was his mistress.)
Margaret Sanger: “A party! Let’s have a party!”
Steve Jobs last words were, “Oh wow! Oh wow! Oh wow!”—as if he were seeing something no one else could see. Or perhaps he was playing a final joke on us.
But no big thoughts for Professor Dubman as he was dying. He was worried about how foolish he looked.
I hope my last thoughts on this earth will not be about what others are thinking of me. So I’m planning right now that my last word will be “Marie.”
Endnote: Have you thought about what your last words will be? Your mind may be distracted, you know, so you ought to have something in mind.
Published in General
Mr. Galt, that’s a fine plan. It would be perfect!
Kent
Just last night my 11-year-old was lobbying to show me an episode of some TV show he wanted me to watch before going to bed. My wife told him it was too late (at night), and he’d have plenty of opportunities to show it to me some other time. The little [redacted] proceeded to point at me and very dramatically exclaim “He’s 56 – it’s not like he’s got a lot of time left!”
That’s about as hard as I’ve seen my wife laugh in a long, long time. I’m not sure I really appreciated it.
Someone else likes naked midget wrestling? Wow, let’s start one of those special interest groups on Ricochet.
Kent.
You will, looking back on it in twenty years. (If you should live so long. 😁)
Mr. Miffed, that’s a clever son you have there. He was kidding you, wasn’t he?
Kent
My husband still flies, but only if he absolutely has to, and he always has a few drinks beforehand :)
I always thought my last words would be along the lines of, “Oh, for crying out loud” accompanied with an eye-roll. After which, I would be obliterated by some hurtling chunk of flaming machinery.
That’s really bad logic. There’s a much greater chance of catastrophe when an engine falls off a train.
Well it dang well better be.
Ladies and gentlemen – We have a winner.
When Kaylett was 16, we had some difficulties communicating. She came in one night telling me she was doing her best to get along with me as she had bought a book to help her, “Understanding Your Aging Parent.”
#MeToo
I’ll probably be like Pancho Villa, whose last words were, “Don’t let it end this way. Tell them I said something.”
And this was such a great post, I’m sorry for being such an irreverent cad.
EDIT; However I am still giggling thinking about my first thought….
I was in a near death experience when another car T-boned me in an intersection. As my car was spinning around and the metal crumpling around me, my thoughts, “Oh crap, what a way to go.” I was really pissed.
Hopefully “AVENGE MY DEATH!!” will be appropriate as a last line.
Either this wallpaper goes or I do.
— Oscar Wilde
Okay, you stepped on my last line:
“It’s a sled? Are you kidding?”
Kay, hi! I wish my daughter had been that wise and understanding. Instead, she sulked. Four years of dark clothing and sulking. By the way, she finally pulled out of it and became a funeral director, which was a perfect job for her. Now she’s cheerful and talky.
Sometimes you just have to wait them out.
Kent
When one of my kids was going through her first communion training, I was in the evening class for the parents. The nun who was teaching the class was explaining the act of contrition, which is a prayer seeking God’s forgiveness. She said, “It’s very important to say this prayer every night before you go to sleep. You might not have time before you die to say this. You know the story about the knight charging down the muddy road? He comes to a bridge that starts to break apart under his horse’s feet. Guess what his last thought was?” :-)
Key West Cemetary, 701 Pauline Street, Key West, FL 33040
That’s really funny.
There’s a famous book out there somewhere (The Snows of Kilimanjaro?) in which an entire chapter is about the main character’s dying, and after a while, he says something to the effect of, “Even dying is boring after a while.” I don’t remember where I saw it, but it comes back to me all the time. That would be awful.
It was prophesied that the last words of one of our evaluation pilots were going to be “What does this button do?”
Perceval, now there is a romantic and soft view of death. And from a soldier! I once wrote introductory chapters for a book called “American War Poetry” (which fell though at the last minute). War poetry became almost entirely anti-war poetry starting with the First World War. And descriptions of death became increasingly realistic and grotesque. One of my favorites is “The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner.”
Kent
“I got this.”
or
“It looks like whisky.”
Perceval, I’ve always liked that line. Perfect Wilde!
Kent
I wasn’t quite thrilled as I wasn’t yet 40. She still treats me as if I’m in my dotage. And, I’m still waiting.
Hahaha! My daughter called me from college a couple of months ago and said we should talk about what kind of “home” I’d like to be put in.