This is why (and how) we should write our own obituaries

[mountaineer]

This is the self-penned obit of a fellow named Dale Heath, may he R.I.P.

Dale B. Heath
Jan 9, 1943 - Mar 10, 2020

The fact that you are reading this means I am swimming with the fishes--or in my case, assuming that I had any relatives that were still talking to me and carried out my wishes to have this obit printed in the newspaper--I have been consigned somewhere over the golf course, my favorite place of relaxation. And relaxing I plan to do-for eternity, apparently. I had a sweatshirt once, with the inscription "The Man, The Myth, The Legend". I gotta tell you--that was a bunch of baloney but it sure was fun having folks get a chuckle at my expense.

They tell me I must provide some sort of background before they will print this. Well, OK, to be precise, "they" didn't tell me--my wife did. Born in upstate New York in 1943, near Syracuse to be exact, spent 22 years in the military and retired as Lt Colonel from the USAF, was an adjunct college professor for 14 years, transitioned into the stock brokerage business where, that is, until yesterday, when rumor has it I cashed in my chips here in Prescott, Arizona. I believe I died rushing into a burning orphanage, saving a group of adorable children. Or maybe not. I always did like to stretch the truth a bit.

I loved fast cars (Corvettes) and owned them all my life. I loved my wife so much that words can't even begin to describe; quite honestly, she was the most beautiful woman I ever met. Married her in 1974 (OK, quick, you with the stubby pencil--how many years is that?) and as far as I know, when my ole left ventricle flapped for the last time, I was still married to her. Dislikes: veggies and hypocrites; just thought I'd throw that in so you wouldn't think life was ALL rosy and full of Eskimo Pies.

You must be tired reading this journalistic dribble. I note that it's time to take that flight over the golf course so they can drop my ashes and I can begin to enjoy my permanent dirt nap. I loved every minute on this earth: I lived the dream. Now, why don't you go out and make it a great day. After all, if you don't, you will wind up, much too early, in the same state of affairs as I am today!

I have left the auditorium. Last person out turns off the lights.

Source

[truth_seeker]

Cashing in one's chips in Preskit AZ driving a Vete is a great way to exit. 

[Bigun]

This is the self-penned obit of a fellow named Dale Heath, may he R.I.P.

And it is a great obit indeed @mountaineer!  I might undertake to do one like that for myself one day.