Well, I just had a major birthday (don't ask which one), and I was beginning to feel that youth was slipping away.

Then my church had three funerals in short order - for parishioners aged 108, 96, and 94. At least two of these people were functioning and intelligent till the end. I wasn't acquainted with the third one, and being a mere member of the funeral choir (the Deadbeats), I didn't ask. However, it did me good to realize that from the point of view of these people, I am a mere whippersnapper.

The woman who was 94 had been saying she was 98. "Lying about her age!" we whispered.

The great-grandchildren of one of them stood up and displayed the objects they were putting in her casket as mementos of her character and tastes. A slot-machine token, a statue of Mary, a bunny figurine, and a program from a basketball game.

I would like to be there 2000 years from now as the archeologists of the future debate whether 21st century Americans believed there were slot machines in the afterlife.