MY EXISTENTIAL MANIFESTO (Inspired by Jerry Maguire, act one, scene one)

Jeanne

I didn’t hear the phone ring.  I was busy at my desk, toiling furiously on an overdue article for a local newspaper.  My wife entered the room and announced, “Carol’s on the line.”  By this I assumed she meant Carolyn,  my boss, and it could only be bad news: surely she wants me to come in to work on my day off.  I wasn’t in the mood, but against my better judgment I took the call anyway.

Good thing.  Turns out it was in fact Carol, an old friend whom I had not seen for many years, the last person I expected to hear from that day.  My joy at the sound of her voice quickly turned to dismay as I learned the purpose of her call:  “Jeanne is dead.  Her funeral is next weekend.  Can you come?”

My to-do list was a mile long, and everyone else could take a number; but this one was a no-brainer: “Are you kidding?  Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”   (Jeanne was a mutual friend, and neither of us had seen her for quite some time.)  Little did I know that this simple social event would launch me into the existential crisis of a lifetime.