It’s Friday morning, the day before Valentines Day.
I’m lying in my bed with my wife, mildly hung over from happy hour (just ever so slightly; more dehydrated really) literally thinking about my obituary.
I read somewhere that the terribly morbid act of writing your own is actually a good way to figure out a what sort of legacy you’d like to leave.
Ever since quitting my job in advertising, presumably to chase more ‘noble’ and ‘fulfilling’ pursuits, I’ve been trying to wrap my head entirely around the decision to become a writer as a profession.
“The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.” – Coco Chanel
A relative of mine recently posted a “Note” on Facebook — yeah, people still use those — telling the “digital” world of friends and family that he was an Atheist.
Five centuries from now that might not cause the shock waves that it does today. But in a mostly Christian family like mine you can imagine it being a big deal.
Not saying that it was for me, because it wasn’t. I’ll love him regardless of his personal beliefs about spirituality, sexual orientation or sports team allegiance. I hope the rest of my family feels the same way, too.