Uncle Tonoose

 You can fight over my t-shirt collection. By now I've outgrown most of them anyhow. And where I'm going I won't need more than one t-shirt - if I need a t-shirt at all.

It'll probably be too hot for a t-shirt or they'll issue me something to fit around my wings. Ha ha. That's supposed to be funny.

But the reason I'm here today is to say that when I am gone, whenever that might be, you can hold my funeral in a phone booth.

Not one of the new phone booths that's just a phone on a pole with nothing around it, I'm thinking of one of those old phone booths like they had at Guthrie's back in the day, a phone booth with two bi-fold doors that close on tracks and you can shut out the world and make time with your gal pal or what ever it is you want to do.

If, after the rapture, you're still here and I'm not, you can have my t-shirt collection. And the old sweatshirts, too. I'm embarrassed to even try them on, but someday they may once again fit me ... and they aren't JUST sweatshirts, you know, they are souvenirs.

I bet my Bowling Green State University sweatshirt from 1972 wouldn't fit on my childhood Teddy Bear, let alone my thigh. But it was a good time with low beer.

And as for my tie-dyed Indiana State University sweatshirt from back in 1976, you know that doesn't have a hope in heck of fitting me now, either.

When I used to fit in in and wear it around, my daughter saw me with that and my faded blue jeans and thought it was some sort of uniform.

Those were the colors for the School of Hard Knocks, baby.

The NJ State Police sweatshirt was always one of my favorites. It fit so well I forgot I was wearing it. But that's at least 10 years old. If I could find it, I would be surprised to get it over my head.

You got time now, but it wouldn't hurt to keep your eyes open for one of those old-fashioned phone booths. You never know when you'll need it.

Copyright © 2006 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.