I woke up with a Chicago song in my head….
Saturday in the park / I think it was the Fourth of July
So I had to look up the lyrics to the rest of the song…
Saturday in the park / I think it was the Fourth of July
People dancing, people laughing / A man selling ice cream / Singing Italian songs
Eh Cumpari, ci vo sunari / Can you dig it? (yes, I can)
And I've been waiting such a long time / For Saturday
A bronze man still can tell stories his own way[1]
A bronze man. A statue in the park.
What if the way someone became a bronze statue was that they
did something really good, something memorable, something that demonstrated
deep love, and when they died, instead of being embalmed or cremated, they were
bronzed, kind of like the way people used to bronze baby shoes.
I supposed there are potential problems here. Who would decide who was worthy of
bronzing? Would it happen automatically,
meaning only God would decide? If so,
can you imagine that moment? Everyone in
the family gathered around grandma’s bed as she draws her last breath…and
suddenly she is no longer flesh. She is bronze, frozen forever in her last
facial expression of life, peaceful sleep.
And the family is thankful they took the extra steps required to make
certain that grandma died peacefully. Otherwise, she might have been bronzed
with a look of pain or fear on her face.
What if someone died violently? Their final moment would be forever preserved
in bronze, no matter how horrible that moment was.
What if someone died in a fire? They would become bronze, but then the bronze
would melt, leaving only a pool of bronze.
Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.
Never mind.
Thankfully, God didn’t make us bronze.
[1] Source:
Musixmatch, Songwriters: Robert William Lamm, Saturday in the Park lyrics ©
Spirit Catalogue Holdings S.a.r.l., Big Elk Music
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