(~2 minutes to read)
Mrs. H. and I have just made this informal arrangement wherein whichever one of us dies first, the other will have a cardboard cutout of our late spouse made.
Sounds creepy, doesn’t it! But “it’s not what you think.” (How many times have you heard that defence being used?)
It’s all to do with remembering things and solving problems.
Back in the early 80s, I worked as a computer programmer at a major record distribution company. In our office was a cardboard cutout mobster—probably a promotional item for an album being marketed at the time. His/its job was merely to stand behind one of us programmers and “listen” while we described a bug or design problem we were having. (It’s not the same as talking to yourself; trust me!) The “aha” moment would invariably occur, and we could apply the fix or whatever.
That cutout was probably the biggest productivity improver I’ve ever seen in IT.
Fast forward to today and the bilateral pledge to commission a cardboard cutout of our late spouse when the time comes.
I was trying to remember who had a hit with a song called “What a Difference a Day Makes” in the UK back in the ‘70s. I’d tried all the usual memory tricks; going through the alphabet thinking of first or last names; sitting on the toilet and concentrating; trying not to think of the name and then mentally creeping up and ambushing the information. Nothing worked.
Then at lunchtime, we were doing dishes together, and I envisaged myself asking Mrs. H. if she could remember the singer’s name and—flash!—it came to me!
I told her what had just happened, and it was at that point she suggested the Mutual Post Mortem Cardboard Cutout Pact.
Problem is—if Mrs. H. goes first, I’m not sure I’ll want a cutout of her watching me as I change my lifestyle to accommodate my new circumstances (I’ll leave it to your imagination!) And if I go first, I’m totally freaked out that my consciousness might transfer itself to the cutout and I’ll spend the rest of Mrs. H’s days frustrated because I can’t help her work out how to use the new technology that she’s purchased.
On second thoughts—I’m going to suggest we acquire a cardboard cutout mobster for the survivor to rely on. He’d be non-partisan; neither of us would be aware of any sentience he may possess; and if the survivor decides to check out the “plenty of fish” theory, there would be no guilt or awkward explanations.
By the way—it was Esther Phillips.