Discount death pops up prematurely

As we get older, “aging in place” is pretty much everyone’s first choice — where we ride out our Golden Years in our own homes, surrounded by familiar things, with the highest degree of dignity and privacy. Lord knows, that’s what I want.

What I didn’t see coming was aging in every place; hips, elbows, knees, ankles and once, even, my hair. Let me explain. I read at night. I tend to lean to the right so the light will shine directly on my book, compensation for my failing eyesight. But all that leaning caused a shoulder and neck injury. Yes, I hurt myself while reading.

There is no way to spin a reading injury. I didn’t get wounded in a bar fight defending The Wife’s honor, nor did I twist something while bungee jumping into a ravine, or get a rupture having trampoline sex. I hurt myself turning pages in a book. This may explain why the following pop-up ad continues to appear on all my social media platforms: “Overnight Caskets.com. Free Nationwide Shipping! Guaranteed on time Delivery!” Frankly, on-time delivery seems unnecessary. What difference does it make if my casket is late when I’m the late Doug McIntyre?

As a kid, the passing years were marked by advancing grades in school, the fifth grade yielding to the sixth, middle school to high school, and so on. Then there were the benchmarks of approaching adulthood I looked forward to: puberty, my first driver’s license, a later curfew. Each birthday brought me one step closer to adulthood and freedom. It wasn’t until my first summer job and had taxes taken out of my paycheck that I began to suspect adulthood was not going to be what I was expecting.

As our 30th birthdays approach, the bloom starts to fall off the rose. Suddenly, up-andcoming baseball players are now “grizzled veterans” and some punk in the minors is being touted as their replacement. For those of us too soft and klutzy to ever have a career in the youthful professions — sports and pornography — birthday dread reveals itself in less obvious ways.

We don’t start habitually “oofing” when we get in and out of our cars until our mid-40s. The young don’t “oof.” When I turned 50, I not only devoured the news, I worried about stuff that they said will kill me long after I would already be dead. The oceans will rise and drown us all in 300 years! Now, in my 60s, I write down “Prevagen” so I won’t forget to grab a bottle.

Still, there are many steps between Prevagen and caskets. Getting pop-up ads from OvernightCaskets.com seemed a little premature, even if “pre-planning” is one of their top selling points, along with features like 20-gauge metal caskets or oversized caskets for the big boned and soon to be only bones.

While I was offended by their sales pitch, curiosity got the better of me and I ended up spending an hour kicking tires on a box, because, well, Russia.

OvernightCaskets.com offers a lot of coffins named after presidents: “The Washington,” “Jefferson,” “Monroe,” “Cleveland,” as well as non-presidents like Hamilton and Franklin because they’re on our money.

Speaking of money, the prices at Overnight Caskets are excellent. From a high of $2,895 for “The Columbia,” made from solid mahogany with velvet interior, down to the starter casket for those hoping to do grief on the cheap, a solid oak finish cremation coffin for only four bills. At that price, who can afford to live?

Of course, you can’t have a burial without a headstone and OvernightCaskets.com has you covered by their sister company, SignatureHeadstones.com, offering standard slab, pillow, slant or upright stones inscribed to your taste.

My taste runs something along these lines:

Here lies Doug McIntyre

1957 – 2057

Something finally got me.