Today has brought ridiculous red-tape and pure pleasure....fortunately the former did not preclude the latter.
First w/ the red-tape. Dad hasn't received Mom's death certificate so I called the funeral home. Turns out the doctor they sent it to can't sign it, and the one who can is out of the country. Why does a doctor need to make it official? I was there. I saw it. I felt it. Shouldn't someone who's known her for 45 years be able to confirm that she's gone? Why would I lie? I have everything to lose and nothing to gain by my mother being dead. Doctors preserve life; it's part of their Hippocratic Oath. If a doctor has to sign a death certificate, he's saying, "I failed" to uphold my oath. A failure shouldn't be given the power to sign a legal document.
And while we're on the subject of life, let's talk about insurance....life insurance, an oxymoron that ranks right up there w/ reality television. Dad needs Mom's death certificate to collect on her life insurance........as a culture we have some seriously screwed-up semantics. While we were on the subject of life insurance, we decided to look at one of Dad's policies. It's a whole-life policy that he's been paying on since 1967. To-date, he's paid in almost $1000 more than the policy is worth so I called the insurance company. I learned something today......whole-life policy means you pay on it for your WHOLE LIFE. But if Dad does that he'll have given the insurance company even more than they'll pay on his policy when he dies. He has two choices: cash it in now and receive $1060 less than the policy is worth or send a letter requesting a "reduced, paid-up policy" certificate. I wrote the letter this morning. Now he can stop paying the monthly premium, which he has paid faithfully for 42 years, and his heirs will receive $511.10 less than the policy is worth. Whoever first came up w/ the idea of insurance should, like Prometheus, have his liver pecked out by an eagle each day only to have it grow back so the cycle can continue. And there would be no Herakles to rescue him.
Now the pleasure. This was pleasure in its most pure form. I went sledding w/ my daughter. Racing down Cinder Hill on a Red Flexible-Flyer was so much better than dealing w/ red-tape. Cinder Hill is actually a street in my hometown that kids have been sledding down for decades. And I just today learned how it got its name. Because the hill is so steep, in the winter they would put the coal and wood cinders on the road to give people more traction in making it up the hill. In the beauty of a small town in the winter during Christmas vacation, we could put up barricades to block off the street and frolic w/o fear of needing to contact a doctor for a death certificate in order to collect life insurance.....wait....I'm over that. I've moved on to the pure pleasure. And it was bliss. Lying on our stomachs, steering the glider, under the barricade, around the corner, breaking the record for longest ride. Race down, run up; squeal all the way down, smile all the way up. That's what life's about. Spending time w/ family in the pure pursuit of pleasure, and it didn't cost a penny.
The red-tape and the red-flyer have left me mentally and physically exhausted. Good night.
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