Happy Birthday You're Going to Die

Like a lot of people, when I get home from work I’ll do a quick check of any mail that’s come today. That’s what I did last night at 9:30 when I got home.

Sitting on the kitchen counter were 2 envelopes addressed to me. The top one I recognized. Well, I recognized my mother’s handwriting on it and I knew it was a birthday card for me. Cool. It gave me a little smile because my birthday’s this weekend.

(By the way, here’s something to listen to while you finish reading)



And I casually glanced at the second envelope before routinely throwing it in the trash. It was a business envelope—some kind of solicitation probably. Yep, the first thing that caught my eye was “1 Year No Interest!” printed diagonally across it. The one single word in the name of the return address caught my eye: “Mortuary”. Huh?

It was from Allen Brothers Mortuary, Inc., Family Owned & Operated since 1964.

What’ve we got going here? Some kind of alpha/omega thing? A birthday card from the person who brought me into this world and a solicitation from someone who wants to take me out of it? Damn. Happy freakin’ birthday! Gee which one should I open first?

Hey, all I wanted to do was change clothes, grab a quick cigarette on the balcony, plop down on the couch with my feet up on the coffee table for “Top Chef” and enjoy a bowl of pineapple sherbert on a warm evening. I didn’t want to have to contemplate how I will spend eternity and how I’m going to pay for it with “1 Year No Interest!”.

So I did what all reasonably well educated, procrastinating guys do. I didn’t open either one of them. Until this morning.

The card was a nice, sentimental birthday card from my Mom with an gift card for Barnes and Noble. Thanks, Mom. It’s absolutely perfect.

Inside the envelope from Allen Brothers Mortuary was this:

Now, without going into a great amount of detail, what I liked was the italics at the bottom of the flyer. It says:

“Delivery to a home where a recent death or illness exists is unintentional. Our apologies if this information arrives at a difficult moment.”

A difficult moment? IT’S MY FREAKIN’ BIRTHDAY!!! Oh, that’s not the difficult moment they mean. What are they trying to tell me? That I’m getting older? That I’m going to die? To quote the late George Carlin: “Thank you Captain Obvious.”

Life is full of these little surprises. Some are good. Some are bad. And I guess you have to take it in stride. I fully expect to live to enjoy my birthday and to not require the services of a mortuary until I’m at least as old as my Mom—who’s 79 and going strong.

Until then, here’s my response to the mortuary:

Michael and Billy Unlikely Companions at the Pearly Gates

My wife and I had a couple of conversations over the weekend about the recent spate of celebrity passings (isn’t that a nice euphemism?).

And, in looking at the media yesterday and this morning, Billy Mays is seemingly but a hiccup in the news which has been dominated by the demise of Michael Jackson.

It seems as though every celebrity has weighed in on Michael Jackson from Elizabeth Taylor to Diana Ross to lesser luminaries. Rev. Jesse Jackson and his congressman son visited and I saw a report that today Rev. Al Sharpton was visiting too.

But little has been noted about Billy Mays other than that he was a professional huckster and family man in Tampa, FL.

I don’t know why this bothers me but it does. Michael Jackson was famous starting in the 70’s and got huge in the 80’s and then spiraled downward over the last decade with bizarre behavior and criminal legal issues. He appealed to the voyeur in us, our curiosity and occasional revulsion. He was viewed remotely and vicariously as someone larger than life, unapproachable and mysterious somewhat akin to Howard Hughes during his declining years.

What Carolyn and I were talking about though was that for some reason we were more bummed about Billy Mays than Michael or Farrah or Ed McMahon. Maybe it has something to do with the idea that Billy Mays was someone we saw on TV every single day making a pitch at us. We came up with the idea that he always seemed approachable more like a real person with a real life.

He was someone more like us. But someone who had achieved celebrity. Celebrity in a “knife demonstration at the County Fair kind of way, but celebrity just the same. In other words, we liked him—in the way you like your next door neighbor or the guy who sits behind you at your kid’s basketball game.

But the world wants to go “boo-hoo” over Michael Jackson. Fifty million copies of “Thriller” were bought a number that record industry experts suggest will never be eclipsed or approached largely because of changes in how music is purchased (i.e. i-Tunes).

But Billy Mays did exactly what he claimed to do. He sold stuff that people need, which will make their lives just a bit easier. Like OxiClean or Quik Chop or What Odor, all kinds of thing. He did it in a style that was loud and brash while at the same time being friendly and direct with just a bit of “tongue in cheek” suggesting that neither he nor you should take all this too seriously. I would imagine that the airwaves will be just a bit quieter for a while as companies and products come up with new spots to sell their products. (Hire ME! I’m looking for work!)

So that’s it. Hopefully this week will be a better one for celebrities some of whom may have already started to look over their shoulders after last week’s surprising roll call. MJ was in a sense a pitiable figure hoping for a comeback. But Mays was a real guy with a twinkle in his eye and perhaps just a touch of larceny thrown in to boot. They’ll both be missed.