That's Right, I'm Takin' it With Me
Forget about that nest egg, already. Damned if those pennies haven't been pinched enough. All the squirreling away, belt-tightening and corner-cutting, where's it gotten you, other than knee-deep in some false sense of security that'll stand you in good stead when that rainy day finally comes? And what if it doesn't? Or what if when it does, it comes down so hard, fast and long that your perceived "ample savings" are akin to a miniature Band-Aid being applied to a gaping wound?... So, go ahead, do it. Splurge! Those wheels you've been eyeing with the fancy rims?... get 'em. That big house on the hill up for sale, that's totally out of your league?... put a bid on that sucker. Likewise, spring for the Rolex and the Gucci suit, the wall-sized big-screen HD TV and floor seats to the upcoming Lakers-Celtics game. Spend, baby, spend! 'Cause you know what they say: You can't take it with you.
Taking it with us isn't an option. At least that's what we've been told since day one, and I, like virtually everyone else, bought into that notion. Until recently. Until I got to thinkin', "sez who?" I mean, who amongst us even remotely has a clue as to what goes on after this dress rehearsal? Sure, there's talk. All kinds of talk. The gambit goes from complete nothingness--the big dirt nap--to all manner of reincarnations along with various religious predictions involving heavenly choirs and pearly gates, fiery nether regions with possible limbo-like holding patterns in between but the truth is none of us can say with with 100% conviction that they know what our next stop entails. Not even close. So I'm putting the kibosh on the whole lavish spending thing. I'm doubling down, goin' against the grain. I'm buckin' the trend, baby! No fancy cars, expensive houses or bling for me on this big, blue marble; I'm holdin' out for the great beyond.
That's right, I'm takin' it with me. When the time comes and I shuffle off this mortal coil, I'm bringin' some stuff. Not everything, mind you. Can't get too unwieldy. Just a good, solid trunkful. A full-sized Footlocker. Yeah, I get that it's a bit bulky and sans wheels but there's gotta be an airport baggage cart available in the afterlife, right? How barbaric otherwise. That said, I figure a couple of basic casual ensembles'll do, until I get the lay of the land, find out what's chic in Whereverville. Probably be smart if I included some high SPF sunscreen just in case it's really hot (include your own joke here). Toiletries, too, should come along so as not to put off any new acquaintances I'm bound to meet. While underarm odor could be a valued commodity in my new digs, I'm not counting on it (hell, it's not like I'm going to France).
Okay then, on to the finer things in life: art, literature and music: The art part should be a piece of cake, with an ample-sized tablet able to conjure up anything from Whistler's Mother to Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans. Likewise, when it comes to literature, a Kindle alone can put me in touch with virtually anything ever written. Gotta say, I am old school when it comes to music, favoring a Top Ten Desert Albums kind of approach, but that's an ungainly move, what with needing an amplifier, turntable and speakers. Especially, when compared to an iPhone and an Amazon Music subscription landing me anything from Gregorian Chants to Diddy's rumored upcoming cover of Elmore James' "Done Somebody Wrong", so, yeah, I'm gonna go with that. And like I said, I'm bringin' the Benjamins, baby. Gonna fast-track the entire nest egg to the Bank of Interstellar Savings... Huh, this is easier than I thought. Forget the trunk, I'm travelin' light with just a carry-on.
Alrighty then, almost done. On to the mental stuff: All the good memories stay, the bad ones not invited (except for maybe a couple of the character builders from childhood). Possessing a sense of wonder and curiosity would be nice to help me tackle my new surroundings with vigor. That and some time-management skills, 'cause who knows what the lifespan is on this new landscape. Oh, and a sense of humor, mandatory for disarming the locals, and because if this new world is anything like what we have here, I'm gonna need it. And, of course, being an American, I'll naturally be taking along my false sense of entitlement but will refrain from yelling "USA... USA... USA!" every five minutes until I sense that the coast is clear. And lastly, a bit unrelated but certainly something I've been curious about since I can remember: The answer to the question, "When I go, will the door hit my butt on the way out?"