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Pretend You’re Dead

I have climbed my last mountain. My knees can’t take another ascent. And, even worse, another fall. I have been asked by other old people, what I would like for my legacy. When I’m dead, legacy won’t matter to me. I know a lot of dead people. In fact, I know more dead people than I do people who are alive. Most of the dead people I know could care less at this point about legacy.

GWGeorge Washington could care less about revolution.
carverGeorge Washington Carver doesn’t give a hoot about peanuts.


And, nether does, Charles Schultz.

So I’ve decided, while I am still alive, to live like I’m dead. At my age, that makes more sense than trying to score more points in a losing cause.

Here are a few of the dead people I know personally: my great grandmother King, who made a mean biscuit; my grandfather Craddock, who died feeding chickens; my grandmother Craddock, who excelled at fried corn, my grandfather Womack, who had a spittoon; my grandmother Womack, who made me eat stewed tomatoes; my dad, who played piano with one hand; my mother, who played piano with both hands; my brother Jerry, who could also play the piano but couldn’t hum the melody of life; and my wife Diane, who knew me like a book. Thank goodness she loved books!Grandfathers



Two of these men are dead. One is not.Can you tell the difference? 

Live as if your life doesn’t matter because eventually it won’t.

When you are young, you own the world. In middle life, the world owns you. In old age, the world doesn’t need you anymore. Get use to it!

There is a significant difference between pretending you’re dead and playing possum. Pretending one is dead is a mental exercise. Playing possum is physical; just holding still and starring off into space.

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