Writing the Story so it is Told when I am unable to do so

Previously, on this blog, I've quoted or referenced a blog called "Must Be This Tall To Ride" which Matt writes. In today's post, called "A Thinking Lesson From Jerry Seinfeld," he springboards from an episode in a series called Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee to make a point about our time on this planet. He asks me, and his other readers, "what
story do you want people to tell about you when you are dead?"

I was coming home from a funeral for Marty Nowlan from Cedar Rapids to home when I pulled out my Android phone and pressed Record. I told my phone that when I die, I don't want people to go to the church basement for a dinner - I want someone to rent out the back room of Gus', which is a local bar I think has a great atmosphere, and to pay for people to go there and have a good time - drink booze if they want. That's what I want people to remember me. I don't want them to remember the me that is unsure of himself, that doubts his place in the world, or that I have failed in each of the roles I have had in my life so far. I want people to smile and, perhaps, think I did okay in the world, which is what Matt concludes towards the end of his post when he writes, "If I die today, not everyone will be able to say that" I was kind, funny or generous" because, frankly, "I’m not always kind or funny or generous."

Sometimes, it seems like life is too damn busy to be those adjectives through my actions. Megan will be a freshman in college a year from now and Alex will be a junior in high school. By this time of the year, in 2021, assuming both kids graduate from college in 4 years, they will be out of college. How does that get paid for? How does that all work out? It seems like the answer is an unclear muck of uncertainty and the more I think about it, the muckier it becomes.

You should definitely read the post.