Photographs by Garry Armstrong
“Dead men don’t ride roller coasters,” said Gill Grissom on CSI.
I turned to Garry. “How would he know? Has he been talking to dead guys?”
“Well,” said Garry, “I haven’t been chatting with any dead people.”
So I got to thinking. If I were dead, what would I want to do? Would I be inclined to haunt the living? To take revenge for insults real and imagined? To repeat activities in death I loved in life?
Would I want to travel the world, to see it without airport security? Pass eternity in the great libraries of the world, absorbing all the knowledge I missed in life? I haven’t the slightest idea what a dead person might want to do, assuming anyone gets a choice about post-life activities.
I believe — without a trace of evidence to support my belief — that whatever one does after death is not a choice. It’s a mandate. Whether it’s God or the Devil or Karma or absolute nothingness, it’s not a multiple choice quiz.
You reap what you’ve sown and, you don’t get to return to tell your friends what happened. On or off the Internet.