Generalization of The Week
From an article on surviving plane crashes (and heavy turbulence) in the New York Times, comes this reminiscence of a near-death experience, from a 50-year old nurse who’d recently been in a plane that lost an engine:
“All I could think about was my garage. How I hadn’t cleaned it, and how messy it would be when someone came in and saw it. It’s crazy what you think about.”No, it's crazy what you think about.
I don't even have a garage.
I would like to think that during a near death experience, we think about the things that are important to us. How sad for her that the thing that was the most important to her was what someone would think of her when they saw her messy garage. I think she needs a better perspective on life.
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When I went in for mastectomy surgery I worried about how I hadn't cleaned my room. If I didn't survive the surgery, someone would have to sift through the wreckage of my life and try and find when I had hidden my worthless 401k and IRA. I understand where the woman in the article is coming from. Sure, I may need a better perspective, but I may also need to clean my room.
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I try to keep my things in good order for this very reason. I may have inherited my father's boys school to Marine Corps meticulousness when it comes to keeping my personal effects in order, and years on the road prior to settling in somewhere has conditioned me to keep my load fairly light. But even when things get out of hand, having gone through the personal effects of someone who's died, my opinion is that people whose task it is to do it are generally pretty forgiving when "sifting through the wreckage." (Diaries can be a problem, but why write them at all if you don't mean for those you complain about in them to find them after you're gone?)
What pops into your head in moments of crisis is probably not as much a matter of perspective as just a natural reaction. Personally I'm not judging. I'm just saying not all of us have the cluttered garage popping into our heads in moments of life or death crisis. I've had a couple of pretty horrendous car crashes, and I never even gave whether or not I had on clean underwear a thought (for the record, though: I usually have on clean underwear, so that was already checked off my list -- and, again, I don't have a garage, so...).
I was completely present in the moment, for once. But then I was in the driver's seat, not sitting helpless with nothing to do for an excruciatingly extended present but contemplate my imminent demise. I'm flying soon, so maybe I need to get a garage, so I'll have something to think about in the case of a crash landing. At least I should clutter things up a bit, so I'll have something productive to do with the time (but I draw the line at day-old underwear).
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Of course this doesn't address that peculiarly male (I doubt it's a gay male thing, in particular) institution: the buddy who will clean out your porn stash before the 'rents or other decidedly proper authorities come along... I have a friend who has the wonderful, ominously intoned, line: "Whatever you do, don't let my mother open any box labelled 'SHOES'!" Of course, that would seem to be baiting poor Mom, if she has the slightest Imelda streak...wouldn't it be better to label it "Field & Stream 1980-85" or something....
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