Far better than anything coming out of the Super Bowl was Sunday’s news that the Brits have discovered the bones of Richard III under a parking lot.
Lovely.
There were no parking lots when the hunchbacked king died on the battlefield in 1485. He was buried in a church but the church was later razed and the parking lot put over him. So it goes. But having an intact skeleton may help to rehabilitate Richard’s image, tarnished by Tudors, Time and the Theater, most notably that reputation-killer, Shakespeare.
But it does put an exclamation point on the notion that once dead, you are no longer in the driver’s seat. You could be under it. And it’s up to those who follow you to honor your memory – or not.
Ultimately, does it matter where the remains land? Here are three songs making last requests about final arrangements. Short of drawing up legal papers that say essentially the same thing as your lyrics, I don’t think putting your internment instructions in a song brings any hope of success, and certainly no guarantee.
You just don’t get to call the shots after you’re gone.
You can ask for one place NOT to be buried. Maybe we will listen.
Trail Baboon 