Authored By Paul Luikart
If you throw a party and invite me, I’m apt to ghost on you as the night draws to a close. Not because I secretly don’t like you and I showed up just to drink your booze which, admittedly, will always be better than mine (as in, “Whoa, Jack Daniels in a real glass bottle! Why, this beats the trousers off my half-gone plastic tub of Old Crow…”) And not because I didn’t have a good time. I did have a good time. I think I’m really a people person. But ghosting spares the both of us the pain of formal disconnection. And the awkwardness of well-intended but ultimately hollow promises of reconnection. On both of our parts. I told my wife that when I die, I want a sky burial. As far as I know, a sky burial is a real thing. It’s when they leave your body on the rocks way up in the mountains for the vultures to carry off. She said no. So, I told her I want an enormous funeral pyre. A huge stack of beams as big as a log cabin. Dress me in a woolen cloak (Why not?) and light me up. She said no to that too. Next, I’m going to ask her, though I’m sure it’ll get squashed, for a Viking send-off. The long ship with the dragon head prow, the flaming arrow. Swish! Whoosh! Burble, burble, burble … Why the term goodbye? It’s not actually good. If we like each other and we tell one another goodbye, I think we’re lying to each other. What we’d really like to say is, “I don’t want to go. I like spending time with you. How come we don’t just cancel whatever is supposed to come next and have another drink?” Maybe that’s why we shortened it to just “bye.” “So long” is an interesting one, not that anybody actually uses it anymore. I figure it peaked about mid-Great Depression with Steinbeck-ian roustabouts pulling up their Dust Bowl stakes and heading for San Francisco. And “deuces,” though I’m tempted here, is too linguistically transient. I’m not hip enough to use the term in any way other than ironically. Though … as I think about it … “deuces” as sincere sentiment at the points of our departures? Probably not. Have you ever received a “Dear John” letter? Or email? Or instant message? Or text? Did anybody ever break up with you by saying, “It’s not you, it’s me. Still friends, right?” Personally, I’d prefer honesty. “Look. It is you. I’m fine. You’re messed up. I never want to see you again.” Great. Okay. See ya. Have you taken the time to listen to the lyrics in the Dwight Yoakam tune, “I’ll Be Gone?” Really listen to them, I mean? What about Willie Nelson’s “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die?” “Hit the Road, Jack?” “The Leaving Song, Part II?” “Only the Lonely?” Look, what I’m trying to tell you is this: This is my last column for NOOGAtoday. I’ve been at it almost exactly three and a half years. I think the first column I wrote was something about running. From there, I somehow found my way through politics, religion, homelessness, music, racism, gun control, and probably a few other things. I’ve loved opining here every second and fourth Wednesdays and I owe a great debt of gratitude to Adam Green and Sean Phipps of NOOGAtoday and to Ashley Hopkins, formerly of Nooga.com. They’ve afforded me a lot of freedom when it comes to what I write about. I wish I could say I was making a Jerry Seinfeld move. Going out on top. Quitting while I’m ahead. In writing an opinion column, though, maybe there’s no such thing as going out on top or on the bottom. Maybe it’s simply a matter of finding a way to shut the hell up. Maybe, as one twinkling voice of public opinion winks out in the endless sky of public opinions, seven or eight others wink on and cram themselves into the void. I’m not sure I earned faithful readers, save for my parents, but thanks to everyone who has read anything I’ve written here, whether you hated or loved it or were largely indifferent. Writers want one thing: readers. If you’ve taken the time to muddle through my words here, anytime in the last three and a half years, I’m eternally grateful. Paul Luikart is a writer whose work has appeared in a number of places over the years. His most recent book, “Animal Heart,” is available now from Hyperborea Publishing. Follow him on Twitter. The opinions expressed in this column belong solely to the author, not Nooga.com or its employees.
