I realize that I am not supposed to be in a cemetery, because I am a Kohane. So I go in my street clothes, instead of my priestly garb. One day, I will lie here in a shroud, to be followed by Sharon. Pretty wierd feeling to be looking up at the sky from the spot where I will lay for eternity.
In Get Low, Felix Bush, no relation to George, Jeb, or Prescott, had a funeral while he was still a life in being. He used the occaison to explain to the community why he had become a hermit and to divest himself, using a raffle which anyone who came could be a participant, of his lumber rich property. Reminds me of the woman who used the rest room at a funeral home in NYC after signing the guest book and received a piece of the estate which the deceased had set aside to reward anyone who came to her funeral. His confession, while somewhat equivocal, didn’t make him out to be one of the world’s finest man, but it cleaned his slate. Then he died.
An interesting concept though, having people come to your funeral while you are alive so you can hear what they think of you.
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