Doing What They Loved …
This one had a massive coronary on live telly whilst pulling a ladder out from under his magician’s robes.
And this one was speared by a stingray while making a documentary.
These two were swept into the sea by a random wave whilst taking a photo of the sunset.
And that chap over there literally was run over by a bus,
But he’d just passed his audition for the opera, so no doubt he was smiling.
They tell us, these people who tell us things, that
they died doing what they loved.
They died doing what they enjoyed the most.
They died, in short, happy.
Am I the only one who thinks that’s just a tad tasteless?
That poor Geoff’s Bucket List was unlikely to have included “savaged by bear”?
That he’d have had a better time on the Appalachian Trail
Without his having his innards unspooled?
That he’d have loved the experience just that bit more
If his spleen hadn’t wound up sitting atop a tree?
Or that politician hanging in his wardrobe with the plastic bag over his head and oranges in every orange-worthy orifice.
Well, yeah, okay, he did die doing what he enjoyed the most.
There’s no doubting his ardent pursuit of his favourite hobby.
But I will tell you this,
As I’d tell every one of that trite “enjoyed the most” crowd,
If you asked him now, and he could answer round his orange,
I will bet you anything he’ll have changed his mind.
