Write your obituary.
Oh my word. Seriously? I really don’t think I can be serious about this one. Obits are written by other people than the one who died, and always speak of the deceased in glowing terms–even if the deceased was a pain in the neck. I’ve always wondered about the saying, “Don’t speak ill of the dead.” Really? Why? You afraid that person will come back and haunt you? No one spoke well of him when he was alive, but now that he’s dead he’s suddenly a saint? I don’t hink so.
Anyway, I’m rambling. I’m sick, and I called out sick from work today. Left nine people who were hoping to come see me for some help twisting in the wind, and I feel bad about that. However, I don’t think they’d appreciate my coughing, sneezing, blowing and croaking. It annoys me when people come in sick and share their misery with me, so I decided to follow my own advice and stay home. Of course, that means my poor secretary is saddled with calling nine people to reschedule them, and I really do feel bad about that.
So. My obituary.
Linda Kreger: Born 1947 in Grand Junction, Colorado to a mom who was very relieved to finally deliver her two-weeks delayed arrival. But, you see, she wanted to be born on the Fourth of July, and that’s exactly what happened.
The family–Dad, Mom, one sister and later (14 years later) a cute little blond-haired brother lived in Colorado, Minnesota, Oregon, back to Minnesota. I know. Getting car sick, right? Finally Linda married Terry, and they continued the tradition of criss-crossing the country for a while. They produced four fine children, who in turn have produced nine fine grandchildren.
There was a lot of life lived along the way. The main motivating force was Linda’s love for God, her husband, and her family. She loved singing, teaching, writing, and being flat-out lazy. She also loved chocolate, which most likely contributed to her demise. But hey, she was old and saggy baggy when she died, so it’s all good.