death lyrics part 3 where Laura Nyro replaces Bob Dylan

and when I die,
when I’m dead, dead and gone

The recently widowed wife/mother described funerals as “barbaric”. She is qualified to know; having buried a son who was killed in Vietnam 37 years earlier. Nothing like the sharp volleys of a 21 gun salute to accentuate the point. Apart from losing a son the husband/father also knew about barbarity; having been captured at Corregidor at the outbreak of World War Two then spending three and a half years as a Japanese prisoner. Death marches, hell ships, slave labor – life doesn’t get more barbaric than that. After 61 years of marriage she now keeps his ashes at their home waiting until she too passes so they can be interred together. Quietly, with as little fuss as possible.

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About Marcus

Who me? Introverted, neurotic, self-absorbed, increasingly cynical observer of human nature and part time social critic in hiding. Most of my life spent avoiding growing up. The naive idealistic passions of youth have evolved into the eclectic eccentricities of adulthood. Northeast Florida small-town native, related to people I can't relate to. Simultaneously my own best friend and worst enemy. Politically and spiritually unaffiliated, my personal ideologies put me all over the map or off it completely.
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