An Installment Plan Cremation

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I am paying on the installment plan for my cremation: $499 down and $50 a month for the next 44 months — interest-free. My Beautiful Mystery Companion is doing the same. We decided to spare our daughters the stress of having to make funeral arrangements. And neither of us has any desire to spend thousands of dollars to be buried in a fancy box.

A nice fellow named Sal came by to make the pitch for his company. Sal looks like a Sal — pompadour combed straight back, a New York accent, nicely dressed in his late 60s but doesn’t look it. He arrived at 10 a.m. I warned him I had to leave at 11:30 for my CrossFit class. I force myself to be tortured in the gym four to five times a week, in hopes that my daughters will be older than I am now before they have to call the cremation folks.

Sal made his pitch. Both my BMC and I have had to deal with making funeral arrangements for our parents, though mine had already purchased a plan. For some reason, my mother wanted them to be ensconced in a mausoleum — roughly four stories up. I, on the other hand, am following Willie Nelson’s dictum: “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die.” Since that is not technically possible — bone ash not being combustible — my bride (if I go first) or our daughters (if I go second) will be responsible for spreading my ashes.

I want most of my ashes spread along the trail at Lady Bird Lake in Austin, but the girls need to save a small amount, sneak into Fenway Park, and leave a piece of me in that shrine. There should be enough left in the estate to pay for the tickets.

Sal tried the timeworn tact: a special offer knocking 10 percent off the cremation had expired the day before his arrival. Just for us, he would extend the offer another day. I have heard that one before. We invited him to go outside and admire the azaleas in bloom while we talked it over. I quickly Googled the name of the company and checked reviews. There were a couple of complaints, but mainly the company received overwhelmingly positive reviews. Of course, these reviews did not come from anyone who has actually been cremated. But their survivors seemed satisfied. So we invited Sal back inside and agreed to sign the agreement.

Sal gave us a temporary card to stick in our wallets in the unhappy event one or both of us pass before the laminated permanent card arrives. It instructs whoever rifles my wallet after I croak to call 1-800-FIREMUP to have arrangements made.

OK, that is not the real number. But it ought to be.

I placed the card in my wallet, next to my AARP membership card. Speaking of which, later that day — having again survived CrossFit, where the goal for us geezers is “Just let me walk out of here alive” — I was sitting on the pot reading the AARP Bulletin. An article titled “50 Great Ways to Live Longer” naturally captured my attention, given the cremation signing earlier. I started adding up the percentages associated with many of the tips — 12 percent increased longevity for sleeping at least seven hours; 46 percent for staying hitched; 15 percent for drinking coffee; whole grains add another 20 percent; eating chili peppers add 13 percent; eat nuts and gain 23 percent; and taking the stairs adds 15 percent.

That adds up to 129 percent extended longevity. I have all of the above nailed. According to the Social Security actuarial tables, at 61, I have a remaining life expectancy of 20.2 years. This should bump it up to 26 years and some change. I’m good with that, as long as I remain relatively clear-witted.

Of course, I know two things: Nobody gets out alive, and I could get crushed tomorrow by a tree limb while walking the dog. That same AARP article pointed out that of the 5,000 pedestrian deaths annually, 20 percent were folks old enough to draw Medicare
I’ll just be careful, eat my hot peppers, wash them down with coffee, look overhead when walking and keep working out.

I left Sal with my BMC at 11:30 as threatened, having signed the necessary papers to get roasted when I’m toast. I returned about 1:20.

“He was here until one o’ clock,” she exclaimed. Arranging to be cremated turned into a three-hour ordeal. I got a little worried my BMC was going to hasten my demise before the ink was even dry on the agreement.

But I survive unscathed for now.

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