The End of Dave

One day, this is how it's all gonna go down.

Where do you want to park?

On my 30th birthday -- the actual day itself -- I received a telemarketing call from a local cemetery asking if I wanted to buy a burial plot.

That was a fun conversation for me. Let's just say that the woman was not blessed. Whatever I may have said, it effectively kept the entire funeral services industry away from me for the past six years.

Until yesterday.

The day before my 36th birthday, there were several items in the mail -- birthday cards from Mom and Dad, a few friends, the church, my investment broker. And there was another card that I assumed to be like the one from the broker -- a courteous gesture from a business to a valued client.

I was wrong. It was an ad for cremation services.

• With society as mobile as it is today, why spend money on a piece of land that may not be convenient to all of my loved ones?
• Why not choose to have a meaningful ceremony where loved ones can gather to disperse my remains over a cherished location?
• And why not help the environment by turning the tide against cemeteries that often have to remove much-needed trees, thus having a negative impact on the environment?

(So that's what Al Gore has been up to these days!)

I wonder if a group of marketing geniuses -- scratch that -- a group of marketing $%@&#s sat around a table somewhere and said, "Hey, people think about their death around their birthday, right? Let's get 'em while they're down!"

That just ain't right.

So, if you were to die tonight, do you want to be buried or cremated? And where would you want to be placed or dispersed? Before you think (or worse, before you reply) that this is an irrelevent question for Christians to consider because our bodies are just vehicles, don't worry -- I get that. But the fact is, either you or your family members will one day be asked what to do with your vehicle. So just for grins, what's your preference? Where do you want to park your vehicle?

(Keep in mind that in the case of your untimely death and the lack of a will, your comments may or may not be admissable in court proceedings!)

Cuba Moment #4: Role Reversal

If you're a guy and you have read the Bible, been "raised right" along the way from childhood until now, or taken "Roles Of A Man" with Don Munton at Houston's First Baptist Church, then you know that protecting the women in our lives is one of the many roles men are called to play.

That said, it caught me off guard when I was protected by a woman on our trip.

Almost the entire team went into Old Havana for dinner our first Sunday in Cuba. We dined outdoors on a cobblestone plaza in the shadows of an old cathedral, with blooming bougainvillea draping the balconies of the colonial era buildings surrounding us.

Before we settled down for dinner, though, we roamed the streets around the plaza in search of bargains and gifts, pictures and memories. It did not take long to find what we were looking for.

I was approached by a woman with a silky purple dress that fit her like a twin sheet on a king mattress. She struck a pose or two and asked me to take her picture (with my camera, mind you.) Her English was poor and her accent thick so I am not quite sure what she wanted in return for my taking her picture with my camera. But I did hear her claim to be a dancer at the famed Tropicana Nightclub in Havana. And I do commercials for Bowflex.

(If you've been on a mission trip with me, you know that I am not opposed to striking up a conversation with a local. In fact, I love it. However, I did not want to make such a connection with anybody on my first day. My options needed to remain open. Besides, those relationships typically do not blossom until after you get back from a mission trip.)

Going in for the kill, she sauntered over closer to me, coming perilously close to making physical contact. Not that I do not like being touched, but she was eyeing my pocket (with my wallet) and not me. She clearly saw me as a potential sugar daddy -- an object -- and not a person. That's just offensive! (Can I get an "AMEN!" fellas?)

Without a second to spare, an arm mysteriously locked with mine, gently pulled me away from the would-be-seductress, and said, "Honey, let's go over here and check that out!"

It was Jessica Reeve. Like her namesake, Christopher Reeve, she had come to save me from peril and doom. Before I really knew what had happened, we were outside of striking distance and on our way around a corner down another cobblestone street and joining the rest of our group.

Being saved feels good. Yes, spiritually -- but physically, too. Thanks to Jessica for being tuned in to what was happening and for stepping up and helping out. I wonder where she gets her practice and experience?

Cuba Moment #3: A New Tradition

An Aggie once told me that if you do something twice, it's a tradition. So, here's my new tradition: Mimicking Carved Artwork on Mission Trips

Guatemala 2005:

Cuba 2006:

Cuba Moment #2: Rooftop Surprise

My general rule of thumb: When traveling, always make the most of each night -- especially your last night of the trip.

Following my own advice, I rounded up some peeps to go into Old Havana our last night in Cuba. Though we arrived back at the hotel around 8:30 pm after a day at the beach, about 10 of us found the energy and pesos to head into town (about a 15 minute cab ride away).

Our sites were set on an old hotel -- Hotel Raquel. Jody had discovered it during the Rookie Trip in March. Earlier in the week we walked past it and learned that there was a restaurant on the roof. I made a mental note: Go back to Hotel Raquel.

The hotel is located at the intersection of two cobblestone streets and is absolutely stunning inside. Our group of 10 broke up into two (6 in one, 4 in the other). The small group went on toward the "central park" area of town and had an experience similar to the one I'm about to tell you about ...

Our group of six went in to the lobby and inquired about rooftop dining. Still having not actually seen the so-called rooftop, we went by faith and ordered in the lobby (as the process goes). The waiter then ushered up to the roof in an old time elevator -- the kind with the accordian-style metal gate for a door. (I referred to it as the "Fatal Attraction" style elevator, but quickly learned that that was probably not the most appropriate reference in mixed company on a mission trip. My bad.)

We arrive on the roof, the gate opens, and there we were -- on the rooftop terrace, all by ourselves. Just the six of us. It was one of those great travel moments that you just fall into because you took a risk and went exploring. And it got better ...

While waiting for our food, we explored the rooftop a little more. There was an elevated room on the corner. From the street level, it looks like part of the main building. But the only way to access it is from the roof, up a small set of stairs. The room has a mural on the ceiling and wooden doors/shutters on four sides that we could open. In the middle was a table and four chairs -- the perfect place for dinner overlooking the city.

Since there were six of us (and we were not feeling THAT romantic), we crashed on the wicker lounge chairs, instead. Under the stars and with the sounds of Old Havana in the background, we enjoyed our sandwiches and coffees -- and the best darn strawberry ice cream I have ever had in my life. (Sorry, Blue Bell. I have to betray you on this one.)

It gets better.

We heard a smattering of applause drifting up from the lobby through the opened stained glass windows of the enormous skylight that covered the multi-story atrium. The waiter explaind that a well-known Cuban trio had just finished performing. Too bad we missed it.

Within minutes, though, I heard a guitar and turned to see where it was coming from. There they were -- the trio. Called Los Rodrigo, the group has been together for 48 years -- since they were 19 years old. They were there on the rooftop performing for us. Just for us. In matching shirts, too.

The night had to end eventually. Besides, there was a 15-minute walk and 15-minute cab ride in front of us -- and much packing to do. But I tell you what ... this is why you never stay at the hotel on your last night. No matter how tired, how late, or how much packing there is to do, I say, "Suck it up!" and hail a cab. You just might be surprised by what you find.

Cuba Moment #1: "Will Sing For Cigar"

At the Havana airport on the way home, our group was sitting outside a gift shop as we waited for our (delayed) flight. I had already spent every last peso that I had at the hotel gift shop before we left. So, when I went into the gift shop, it was primarily just to look around and keep myself occupied.

Then I found out that the shop took American dollars -- the only store I had found all week who took our currency. They did not take American bank-issued credit cards, but greenbacks were just fine -- and I had $24 in my wallet. Time to shop!

While looking over the merchandise, I found myself singing "Guantanamera" -- a classic Cuban song. I was inspired by the cigars in the store with the same name.

Well, when it came time to ring up my purchases, the total came to $24.20. I asked the man to wait while I ran and found 20 cents from a friend.

"Do not worry," he said, "your singing is worth the 20 cents!"

"Is my singing worth a free cigar?"

"If you sing the whole song, yes, it is."

The offer was made and I was up for the challenge. As the shopkeeper helped other customers, I stood off to the side and sang "Guantanamera" over and over again. And by that, I mean that I sang the word "Guantanamera" over and over again since that's the only word of the song that I know. Fortunately, I at least knew the tune so I was somewhat credible.

After hearing a few rounds of such a stirring rendition of their beloved song, the shopkeeper threw his hands up in the air and gave me a cigar.

(For those keeping track at home, that's the second time I've won something for my singing.)