An Observation

For people over the age of 65, friends and family who are either dead or dying begin to encroach on everyday life. It just happens, is all, like the glut of engagements and weddings in your 20s and 30s, or the birth announcements in your 40s. 
 "Did you hear about Fred? Terminal Gout.  Young, too... just turned 80." It starts with a trickle, so innocuous as to be barely noticeable, but somewhere in the 70s this inevitable phenomenon kicks into high gear; scarcely a week goes by when some friend, relative, former classmate, business associate, neighbor or whatever has to turn in his or her Bucket List. 
All this is without benefit of any obituary notices.  Hell, if you're macabre enough to read those, dead people back up from your door to the street!
But that's not the observation hinted at the headline.  The observation is this: Men and women apparently approach these announcements very differently. For guys, it's like a casualty of war. No matter who it is, the reaction to the news is unvarying.  "Who? No shit. Of what? No shit. How old? No shit." And then it's back to Obama or the Mets or credit default swaps.
Women, on the other hand, Get very gender-specific. A female's demise is cause for an expository lunch, an afternoon of chain phone calls, a Proustian recollection of all that has passed before good old Prudence's eyes.
Men?  Hah! Maybe it's because they're kicking off faster, but the announcement of a male departure is treated by the distaff side as something like a geranium croaking on the side of the house. "Didn't get enough sun... surprising he lasted as long as he did... wonder what Mabel will do with that bare spot."
Fair warning guys -- if you want some respect after you're gone, start lobbying NOW.


(Click the headline for a neat funereal surprise!)