The Last Rest Stop

Last week I came across an on-line article about a stolen car, a 1967 Jaguar XKE convertible, that was recently returned to its owner after its existence was discovered during a routine inspection by U.S. Customs at the Los Angeles/Long Beach sea port. According to the article it had been stolen from a 36-year-old “young attorney”, Ivan Schneider, in 1968 while he was living in Manhattan.  I enjoyed reading the article because it was one of those “feel good” items that are few and far between nowadays.  Unfortunately, I didn’t feel good for very long.

The article continued that Mr. Schneider is now 82 and  living in Miami, Fla.  That’s right 82 YEARS OLD!!  How the f**k did that happen!?  Because of a broad strokes reading of the story, I had assumed that he’d now be in his 60’s, maybe 70.   But 82 friggin’ years old!  Well of course, the math is right and good old Ivan is indeed, an octogenarian.   But this startling revelation comes as one, in a never-ending litany of reminders, that time flies by and I’m not getting any younger.  Add to that my ever-increasing realization that I’m not going to live forever and you have the ingredients that make for a very depressing stew.

In a sense though, this story dovetails quite nicely with the more-than-occasional conversations Yduj and I seem to have about our deaths.  She’s much more sanguine about the whole matter; I’m strictly in denial. For example, Yduj already has a nice urn picked out for herself to be placed in a scenic section of Greenwood Cemetery.  It’s in a very nice location with decent amenities nearby (although the school district is just so-so and public transportation is scant).  I, on the other hand, when forced to think about my inexorable passing, still haven’t come to a decision whether I want a nice jewel-encrusted vase or a burial plot. I think that there’s plenty of time to decide but maybe that’s just me being delusional.

 Adventureland, Frontierland, Tomorrowland and now this?

Adventureland, Frontierland, Tomorrowland and now this?

But when I am forced to consider the options available to me, one that is always near the top of the list is a burial plot located near my forebears in a bucolic setting close to a lovely strip mall in Long Island.  Although ordinarily this would be my default resting place, I don’t (as I often do) want to opt for what is easiest and most familiar.  So with the intensity of a Park Slope parent looking for pre-schools, I’m starting to look around for alternatives.  Just this past weekend I came across what looked like an abandoned cemetery in a very rural area in upstate New York.  What really got my attention was that it was a Jewish cemetery; located almost in the middle of no where.  But from the looks of it, I’ll bet no one has been buried there for quite some time.  I like my alone time, but I think not having any contemporaries to rub shoulders with for eternity might a bit more solitude than I’d prefer.

And then, while on vacation in Wilmington, Vermont  this summer, I came across another cemetery which at first, seemed like it had potential.  It appeared very well-tended and had a nice mix of young and old.  But although it had a really pleasant vibe, it’s probably a bit too sedate for my taste.  And it also suffered from its overly cute name, “RESTLAND”.  I think I need a resting place that has a bit more of an edge.  So ultimately, I decided that “RESTLAND”, like Wilmington, would be a nice place to visit . . . but I wouldn’t want to live there.

Just a small edit

Just a small edit


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