From Gramps

Every day, I look at the obituary page in the Salt Lake Tribune, checking to see if my name appears there. The other day, there it was! Sure enough, Howard R. Bingham had gone to meet his maker. My first clue that it wasn't me, was his picture. He was bald! Whereas, some members of the family, who shall remain nameless, are approaching baldness, one of them is not me. My second clue that the dead person was not me was the date of his birth in the obituary below his picture -- he lived into his nineties. I'm WAY younger than that -- well, somewhat younger. My third clue that the deceased wasn't me was the realization that I was reading the paper while HE was doing nothing -- in this world, at least. The following Sunday in ward council meeting, which I did not attend, discussion was held about my possible death, one of the ward council members having also read the obituary page above referenced. Later in that same day, borrowing a phrase from some famous person, I assured the brethren that rumors of my demise had been grossly exagerated. Some seemed relieved, others disappointed. Such is life -- one has to take the good with the bad.