I spent a portion of last week in Phoenix. My great-grandma shuffled off this mortal coil a couple of days before my arrival so most of my mini-vacation was re-arranged to accomodate the gaudy burial services that an old-fashioned Midwestern woman like Gramma Lilly stipulates in her will.
For example: A gold-plated casket.
See also: A Coors Light can (not bottle– that shit is for pompous Manhattan socialites) in her casket with her.
All sarcasm aside, she was an amazing woman and I was a bit awestruck to see how many lives she’s affected just by being warm and caring and also by holding a veritable monopoly on plus-size handmade muumuu dresses sold at the Phoenix Park ‘N’ Swap for thirty years. THIRTY YEARS OF MUUMUU-MAKING. That’s a shit ton of sheets sewn together, folks.
I’m not gonna share her whole life story with you but I will say that hearing stories I’ve never heard before– because my family is so goddamned humongous that it’s impossible to know each member in a way that requires more than remembering their name– did inspire me to try and be more like her. I mean I’m already pretty nice.
No, shut up, I really am.
But, I should be better. I mean, why not? I just saw firsthand the trickle-down effect that unending kindness and caring for your fellow man can have in this world and if being generous to the point of constant self-sacrifice gets me a gold-plated casket filled with beer at the end of it all… Then sign me the hell up.