I will say my brother Mike had an awesome alternative, except he left out dolphin fishing off Key Largo and a poker game. But remembering the strip club (now closed, unfortunately) is certainly a masterstroke, and he has my permission to find an appropriate substitute. Lord knows, we supported many a single mom in our day. But his trip still needs to finish at the gulf with my wife and kids.

Last week, a friend of the family on my wife’s side passed away. A neighbor, a gentle man, unassuming, always willing to lend a hand. He would help my father-in-law when he had particularly difficult or heavy chores to handle. He was so vigorous I had no idea he was in his 80′s until my mother-in law told me. His yard was full of old boats in various states of repair, and he loved fishing.

He told his wife he didn’t want a memorial service, and he wanted to be cremated. His family went ahead with the memorial service because sometimes families need that sort of thing. But they did a wonderful thing.

Roy attended. In his tacklebox.

1. An Irish wake. No tears, please. It’s not about you, it’s about me. My mother is the only person that ever cried for me while I was alive, so don’t bother crying for when I’m dead.

2. I want to be cremated. I hate the idea of worms and maggots and roaches crawling through my nether regions.

3. I want my ashes spread at Pine Island at sunset, right as Sol touches the horizon. There’s a couple Pine Islands in Florida so to clarify: Hernando County’s Pine Island. Grill a couple burgers and franks while you’re waiting. No practical jokes with the charcoal ashes, please. The wind blows in from the water as the sun goes down, so anyone who goes with Stacey and the girls should stand off to the side or you’ll be carrying a little bit of me with you until your next shower. You don’t want this to happen: