|This is what kind of a day it is — sparkling sunlight, crisp temperatures, bliss.|
Please do not think that I’m starting a weekend theme about the great beyond. (You may recall last Sunday I told you what the priest said at the funeral of a friend.)
This is pure coincidence: a close friend and I just wound down another of our marathon conversations wherein we wandered over to “the other side” if you will. Since it was one of those “light, bright, you’re so right” sort of exchanges I thought I would share a cogent comment with you.
We were talking about fame. (Don’t worry, I’m getting to the point. . .) She is a rather well-known writer, also living in France, and she remarked that a photographer told her recently that if she applied herself she could be “famous”.
She said to me, “can you imagine anything worse than being famous?” Well, actually, yes, I can, but it seemed like the conversation was going someplace and I didn’t want to interrupt her rhythm so, of course, I said “no, what could be worse than being famous?”
As we wore out that theme, she finally said to me, “do you know what I want on my tombstone?” Since we were in unchartered territory, I said, “No, cherie, I don’t. Up to now you have not shared that desire with me.”
“Well,” she said, “I want it to say in large letters: ‘SHE HAD A GOOD TIME!'”
Now, I ask you, isn’t that wonderful?