On a recent trip to Washington, D.C., a family took a side trip to Arlington, Virginia.
While there, the patriotic father pointed out a well-known building to his son.
"Son, you see that triangular-shaped octagon over there? That's the Pentagon."
I began thinking about my own mortality after I became a widow. One day my daughter called home from college, and I announced to her, "I think it's time for us to talk about where I would like to be buried."
"It's way too soon to even think of anything like that," she snapped indignantly. Then there was a brief silence. "Wait a minute, did you say married or buried?"
When I repeated buried, she said, "Oh, okay, sure."