When I Die

Throw my sorry butt in the river. If my kids don’t put me on an ice floe and shove me out onto Lake Erie first.

The old Brinkhaven bridge

The old Brinkhaven bridge

That’s my final request — to have my ashes scattered in the Mohican River just below the Brinkhaven Dam. That way, I can take one last river trip.

More specifically, toss my ashes off the old Brinkhaven bridge. It’s closed and you’re not supposed to walk out onto what’s left of the deck. Furthermore, it’s illegal to dump cremains into a river or scatter them in public. All the more reason to do it. It’s the Irv thing to do.

Also, don’t stuff and mount me and put me on display in an expensive box. Or a cheap one, for that matter. Forgo that part. I want people to remember me as I was — unkempt, rough around the edges and full of piss and vinegar.

In lieu of a casket, take my canoe to the funeral and let people put in it what they like. Better yet, put all my stuff in there and let them take what they want.

Not that I’m planning to die anytime soon. I enjoy life and hope to milk it for at least another 25 or 30 years. As long has I have my health. And my canoe.

It’s just that the recent loss of my godmother reminded me that I have not formally stated what I want done with my remains.

Now you know.

 

Brinkhaven. Also called Gann

Brinkhaven. Also called Gann.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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