Last Rites

Our culture marks first times with much fanfare: first birthday, first haircut, first day of school, First Communion, first time on skis, first flight, first date, first kiss, first speeding ticket, first beer, first marriage, first arrest, first time in rehab, first Blog post, and so on. But we do not get as many opportunities to celebrate last times, partly because of the difficulty in recognizing them. Ordinarily we do not know which birthday is our last unless we are choking on the cake and realize the attendees think Heimlich was an East German weightlifter. We celebrated my third son’s self proclaimed last day of school with a family cruise to Alaska but four years later, his lie was exposed when he enrolled in Debt Law School for three more years. The last time I went snow skiing was in my early 60’s with two sons and a daughter-in-law. I did not know it would be the last time I skied or we could have toasted the event after I tumbled down my last run on Bunny Slope. Three last times I would enjoy celebrating: last visit to the Dentist, last day weeding, and last time calling a plumber. If I knew which post would be my last one, I would use it to wallow in sentiment, making you weep between peels of laughter. This is clearly not such a final essay, although it would make for a dramatic reading at my Wake.