Plot Mortgage Rates Increase

Where will you spend eternity? Penny from heaven.

My sister’s friend, Julie, had a funny story about picking cemetery plots for her and her hubby, Howard. This is based on my interview with her…

Me—So what happened? (A vague question, I know, but I’m still working on my journalism chops.)

Julie—Well, Howard and I went shopping for plots. We figured, if the unexpected happens we don’t want our kids to stress about our final resting place. They’ll be too busy crying their eyes out.

Me—They would be devastated.

Julie—Beyond. Why should they have to worry about where to put mom and dad?

Me-- You’re so considerate. What a great idea.

(I add it to my To Do list: Groceries, Take car in, Find my eternal resting place.)

Me again-- Instead of a memorial I want a party, maybe even write my own eulogy for my kids to read. “She was the best mom ever. If there was a mom of the Year award, she would be the recipient.” I’ll hire a DJ and dancers, make it like the Bat Mitzvah I never had.

Julie—I have a great caterer.

Me—So did you meet with a salesperson?

Julie—Yes, but this woman was like an upscale real estate broker. Dressed in a dark but fashionable suit, $400 haircut. The only thing missing was the Open House sandwich board. She showed us plots by the road, plots with a view—they were more expensive of course.

Me—Location, location, location. A tomb with a view.

Julie—She was pushy too. She had a contract for us to sign before we could view an Urn plot. Those were like the nosebleed seats at a stadium.

Me—She probably gets a commission.

Julie--Prices go up July 1^st, so we had to decide fast.

Me—Were there other offers on the table? Four other couples vying for those plots?

(I imagined a bidding war. Maybe there was an old plot that needed renovations, a flip. Does one take out a mortgage? The interest rates might be an incentive to eat healthy.)

Julie—Probably. My parents are in a wall. My dad wanted to be high up, closer to G-d.

Me—That’s sweet.

Julie—It was a good excuse for the bargain section.

Me—So, a flat piece of land is like the orchestra seats? I never understood why balcony seats were so pricey. You have to crank your neck to one side. By the end of the show, you have to see a chiropractor.

Julie—I have a terrific chiropractor. Only problem with being up high is that twenty years ago I was able to reach my parents, tuck a rose in the vase. But I’ve shrunk since then and have a hard time now.

Me—I used to be six feet. Now I’m 4’11.” (I exaggerated for height-compression effect.)

Julie--Howard’s family is in the ground on a corner. I didn’t want a corner.

Me—You had a dilemma. Where to plotz?

Julie—So we Face-Timed the kids. I have two sons. I said, “If you’re not going to visit us, we’ll go cheap.”

Me—Of course they’ll visit you.

Julie—Who knows? They get busy with work, have a family of their own.

Me—You can always haunt them if they don’t visit you.

Julie—I was totally delighted when they said they would visit. Of course, being the Jewish mother, I asked, How often, how long would they stay? Do they need a bench? Some plots had a bench nearby. Not the most comfortable; I tried it out. They would have to bring a cushion.

Me—Forest Lawn should offer bench cushions to the bereaved.

Julie— I told Howard, maybe I should be cremated. I’d have a smoking hot body.

After a good chuckle and a sip of tea, we continued.

Julie--Then, the biggest question of all, “Do you want us near dad’s parents or mine?”

Me—Ooooh, favoritism. If they pick your parents Howard might be offended but sometimes a kid might do the opposite to not upset the person he would have initially hurt. Did they pick Howard’s parents?

Julie—They were smart. They didn’t take sides. They said they’d rather us be buried in the ground, not a wall.

Me—Smart. Diplomatic. They didn’t have to choose a family.

Julie—I wanted to show them our potential new digs. By then the Broker had another appointment and told us to meet her back in the lobby and left us with a map. The kids were making fun of us trying to read the map.

Me—Nothing on Google Earth? No Street names? Paradise Alley would be a good one.

Julie—All alphabetical letters and numbers. Forest Lawn needs an app. I told the kids when I go to heaven, I won’t need a map.

Me—Google Heaven.

Julie--We finally found the available plots near Howard’s parents. I didn’t want a corridor; the living would be walking all over me. And I didn’t want an end. There might be a loud lawn mower—

Me—You want to rest in peace.

Julie—It would mow over me and might chip my headstone.

Me—Then the kids have to call a headstone repair man. Is that a thing?

Julie—So we decided on a beautiful location but because of the price for the King mattress we considered bunk beds. Whoever goes first will be on the bottom. They’re the condos of the neighborhood. (Yes, dear reader, that’s a thing.) I was ready to sign but Howard said we’ll think about it.

Me—I hate when hubby throws that in. I’m ready to tell the waitress we’ll share the 8oz steak but suddenly he needs another minute. He might want the fish.

Julie—I know of a great steak house. Anyway, we went home and looked on Craigslist, Offer Up. Maybe someone’s selling their plots. There was one that was promising but it was sold by the time I emailed.

Me—It’s a seller’s market.

Julie-- So we went back to the cemetery for another look-see. I mean this is going to be our eternal home.

Me—It’s a big decision.

Julie—And then, there was a sign. When I was 20 years old my dad died, and he always left me signs. Pennies and feathers. I once found a feather in produce at the market. Then a penny next to my car. He once left a dime for me and I thought, “Oh, dad gave me a raise.” My mom used to send me coupons but that’s another story. Howard and I went back to a lovely spot of condos that we liked the first time, and there it was, a penny.

Me—Pennies from heaven.

Julie—I knew that was the place. We signed on the dotted line.

Me—Did you pick out the box too?

Julie—The broker was ready to sell us one made with Malaysian wood, 14k gold handles.

Me—No President’s Day sale? Dia de los Meurtos?

Julie—Nothing’s on sale, especially when you die. That’s another reason we’re preparing now. If you wait it’s like buying an airline ticket last minute. The prices are jacked up, they take advantage of desperation. I was happy with the “Tisket-a-Casket.”

Me—Cute play on words.

Julie—Ella Fitzgerald, “Ride ‘em Cowboy” 1942. What can I say? I’m a fan.

Me-- What are you going to wear for the occasion? Do you have a favorite outfit?

Julie—Maybe some nice slacks and a lovely slimming blouse. I have a small box of Bailey’s ashes—she was my Yellow Lab. She’ll come with me to the condo.

Me—Another great idea. Bring your fur family ashes with you. I want to be buried in my sweatpants and Uggs. I love being comfortable in life, why not in death?

Julie—P.S. It took us three years to pay off the mortgage on our plots.

Me—So, just when the house is paid off you have to take out a second for your eternal home. Any tax benefits?

1. Where would you like to plotz?

2. Boxed or baked? Or, the latest environmentally friendly-- compost?

3. Clothing for the occasion?