Tuesday night was unusual; the Precious Schedule was upended with a five-hour block of duty – first a funeral visitation in a far-distant part of town. Wife’s uncle. There was a video in the corner playing old photos; nice work, but – I know, I know, this is awful and petty – it used a stock 80s-style Microsoft font whose name escapes me. Made me think I should just put my own post-mortem slideshow in the can so I can control these things.I had a very similar conversation with my Dad on Monday. His beef is with plastic flowers on graves. He also threatened to come back and haunt. So . . . if you need to talk with Dad after his unfortunate demise, you should open with plastic flowers.
. . .I told my daughter not to use this font on my memorial. Rolled eyes. Okay, whatever. What font do you want.
I don’t know. There are fonts that you love, that say something to you, but they’re not about you. Hard to pin that down.
“I’ll put Hobo on your tombstone,” she says.
“I’ll come back and haunt you.”
I suppose we all have something that would appall us to be memorialized with. There is a certain four letter baseball team that would positively enrage me if it was somehow mingled with my remains. And certain disco songs. Ironically, 'I Will Survive' might actually bring me back long enough to dispatch my tormentor.
But fonts? No, that won't do it for me.
PS: This post is at least in part in excuse to use my 'Beyond the Grave' tag which is pretty sadly under utilized.
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