Catch a cab? I'll walk, thanks

I was on the final approach to 50, having just convinced myself that half a century isn't really so old, when the inevitable envelope arrived from the American Assn. of Retired Persons. Unfortunately, mine landed alongside a letter from the Neptune Society extolling the virtues of cremation. Do these people simply work off the same Social Security list, or were they coordinating their efforts to nudge me out the door?

Fifty came and went, and so did 51, and I'm still here. So is my faithful correspondent, the AARP, only now that we're in the middle of an economic recession, I notice it no longer bothers to spell out "retired persons." That seems like a sensible decision, especially if my accountant is right that members of my generation will be working into our 90s. The AARP might want to consider changing its name to the Assn. for the Forever Employed.

The Neptune Society hasn't given up on me either. This year, it sent a survey with a cover letter about "facing the truth." The truth, according to Neptune, is that "death is what makes our lives so precious, exquisite and magnificent." I always thought that life was what made our lives magnificent and that death was the turd in the punch bowl. My dad thought so too. A machine-tool salesman with a gift for getting to the point, he used to shrug off his birthday with the phrase, "considering the alternative..." Or he'd say, "Beats pushing up daisies." After he died, I planted daisies, which were in full bloom when the survey arrived.

"Dear Marjorie," the Neptune letter began. I was taken aback at the assumption that death and I were on a first-name basis, but continued reading. "No doubt," I had given thought to matters of death and had ideas about my "final arrangements." Actually, I hadn't. I'd given a lot of thought to all the terrible ways one can die -- brain tumors, earthquakes -- and sometimes, when life had seemed truly exquisite, I'd looked around to make sure I wasn't about to get hit by a bus. But I hadn't planned what should happen next, let alone picked out mood music for the after-party.

The survey asked if I found discussing death ("select all that apply"): "unnecessary," "embarrassing," "frightening," "interesting," "responsible," "depressing," "joyous." I didn't know what to check, and then it dawned on me that the reason I'm not discussing death is because I'm too busy not retiring.