This type of plaque can't be brushed away

I took my wife and kids to the park the other day (the pub was being renovated), and I was more than a little surprised at all the frickin' plaques attached to every bench, fountain, garden path, and trail. Holy pine cones, every single tree, shrub, and rose bush had an embossed copper plaque placed in front of it, half-buried in a granite stone. There were so many freakin' dedications and memorials that I thought we had mistakenly visited the local cemetary!

Now I'm all about planting trees (except in the Arctic, where it's just too much work), and I'm all over the idea of having people make donations to parks in order to pay for playground equipment (although those solid gold monkeybars are a little excessive). But seriously people, I don't need to read about this loving husband or that dedicated wife every time I wander by a freshly planted spruce sapling (although I do have all the Spruce Sapling albums from the 70's)! If I wanted to know that John Smith died in 2007, leaving behind three wonderful children, I'd save the clippings from the obituary section of the local newspaper or call Mrs. Smith to ask her how wonderful those three kids really are (I don't believe everything I read). I don't need to be reminded of it every time I take a drink from the water fountain. Do you think John Smith wants to be remembered for supplying chlorinated drink water to thirsty park patrons? I'm sure John was a great man, a loyal husband, and a wonderful father (subject to appropriate factfinding--sorry to keep pestering you Mrs. Smith), but I don't want to think of a dead guy when I'm rehydrating, thank you very much.

I go to parks to hang out with my family, throw the frisbee around, and yell out random quotes from Naked Gun movies. If I want to be reminded of death, I'll take my frisbee to the cemetary, where there's only slightly more dedication plaques, and you can use some of the taller tombstones as markers for a great game of frisbee golf (no offense Jacob Bernstein, 1909-1971).

If and when I decide to die, I might just ask someone to create a plaque in my name, and dedicate it to another plaque. Or maybe I will get two plaques and put them on two benches, back-to-back, so that spies could sit there facing away from each other, freely discussing their plans of espionage without anyone noticing--since they wouldn't be looking at each other when they spoke.

This editorial is dedicated to my 160-gig hard drive (2004-2009), and is survived by two lovely one-terrabyte drives.