I am organizing my funeral. Not that I plan on dying soon, but one never knows. As of today, there remain many undecideds: cremation, burial, or cremation with burial; who should be the lucky heir to my needlepoint tea towels; and who will give my eulogy and make me sound nicer than I am. (Children need not apply.) For every checked off item, I add two more.

Right now, I’m focused on music. Previously I had made my song list in the “Notes” section of my phone, but three weeks ago all of my 146 notes were deleted. Not even the backup Clouds APP could find them. Nor could the techie at the Apple store. So, I’m starting over.

I remember two songs from the original list. “You Raise Me Up” by Josh Groban and “Why Me, Lord?” by I don’t know who…which brings me to yesterday when I spent some time in the APP music store listening to different versions and singers. Ross King had a song by that name, but its lyrics were entirely different…and not funeral appropriate. Still, I loved its honky-tonk tune and bought it. I plan to learn it on my guitar. Not to play at my funeral, of course. That would be weird.

King’s words are a great reminder of what should matter. See if you agree.

My Lexus just ran out of gas; my iPod needs new songs.

My cellphone battery is dead.

Oh, why me Lord? Why you done me wrong?

My suntan salon just closed down; my summer glow is gone.

And the kid who cleans my pool just quit.

Oh, why me, Lord? Why you done me wrong?

There’s people starving in Africa; there’s War in the Middle East.

But I’m a rich dude in suburbia who could use a little sympathy.

My grande-no-whip-mocha-latte is way too strong.

Oh, why me, Lord? Why you done me wrong?

I’ve got 150 channels on my tv, but I think I need a hundred more.

Got a world of entertainment on the internet.

But I’m still bored. Why me, Lord?

My backed-up credit card’s maxed out; can’t remember what I spent it on.

So, I guess I have to settle for the medium fries.

Oh, why me, Lord? Why you done me wrong?

There’s homeless families in New Orleans, soldiers dying on a foreign shore.

But I’m a rich dude living in luxury who could use a little something more.

There’s white trash folks in my country club, and they really don’t belong.

Oh, why me, Lord? Why you done me wrong?

Yea, I think I’ll write a letter to my Congressman, maybe send him a tape of this song.

He’s probably in his big old mansion right now.

Sayin’ “Why me, Lord? Why you done me wrong?”

Yea, I care about the people in Africa, and I’m praying for the Middle East.

But I’m a rich dude out in suburbia who could use a little sympathy.

So, don’t forget my grande-no-way-mocha-latte is way too strong.

Oh, why me, Lord? Why you done me wrong?

Why me, Lord? Why you done me wrong?

So, Readers, the more I think about it, maybe this version should be included at my funeral. Chances are, it would be one no one would ever forget.