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News item: "Jerry Gunderson of Deerfield Beach, FL, started diving for golf balls in 1953, when he was 19. On Saturday, during a dive, he lost his life. He was 75. 'I don't know why he did it; it's high risk, but he just loved it,' said his wife, Judith. 'He always said that's the way he would go.'"
News item: "Clifton Maloney, a millionaire investment banker and avid climber, was resting in a high-altitude camp after a successful ascent to the summit of the world's sixth-highest mountain when he died. He was 71, a late age for such a grueling endeavor, but had been in excellent health. His last words were 'I am the happiest man in the world. I just climbed a beautiful mountain.'"
Were Jerry and Clifton a couple of lucky guys? How would you like to go?
Crossing home plate with the winning run in an 80+ national softball championship final game?
Making a hole-in-one on a tough par 3 or an eagle on a long par 5 (perhaps at the Deer Creek Country Club with one of the balls retrieved by Jerry Gunderson)?
Sinking the winning shot on your patented step-through move in a pickup game at your local athletic club?
Exulting over a perfect two-point landing after sky-diving from 13,000 feet?
Coasting to a stop after completing a crisp run around Seattle's Green Lake on a rare sunny Northwest morning?
Slowly walking a fighting sockeye back to shore so one of your grandchildren can net it?
Snapping a sunrise picture as you reach the summit of Mt. Rainier on a guided climb?
Laying down the final card to make a grand slam in a bridge game?
Smashing a hard-breaking hook into the 1-3 pocket to strike out for your highest score ever, a 279?
Inking in the final answer on an exasperatingly difficult British cryptic crossword puzzle?
Concluding the peroration of your speech to old classmates at a high school reunion?
Doing the Latin Hustle with your wife--drops, lifts, dips, and all--to the Bee Gees' "You Should Be Dancing" under a discotheque's revolving glass ball?
Posting a final entry on your Sunburst web site?
Swallowing the last goosebump-making drop of a glass of Panizzi's 2001 Riserva Vernaccia di San Gimignano?
Savoring a last bite of your deliciously off-beat beet risotto while dining with old friends at Kerstin's in La Conner?
Sipping your favorite morning coffee, The Perfect Mend, and reading the sports pages on your patio as the birds flap and fuss at the feeder?
Listening to the Count Basie trio's "Blues in the Alley" or Rachmaninov's "Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini?"
Sitting in a window seat as your commercial jet gains altitude on its journey from Seattle to Anchorage and reveals views of splayed Puget Sound islands, shorelines, open waters, and densely forested mountains tinged with bright snow?
Completing a stroll around your "estate," noting that all bushes and trees are neatly trimmed, the patio washed, the shadowy Superstition Mountains looming to the East, the sun setting beyond the golf course to the west?
Lying on your back in a quiet lake, staring up at the blue sky and sensing yourself dissolving into the cosmos?
Singing "Bow Down to Washington" in Pasadena after watching the Huskies win the national football championship in the Rose Bowl?
Sauntering along a Cinque Terra hillside trail, the blue-blue Mediterranean and pastel pink houses of a village spread below you?
Gazing down at the pied beauty of schoolyard, church steeple, and sheep meadow from the top of a hill in Wales?
Crossing a pedestrian bridge over a Venetian canal, to discover a tiny neighborhood park amid quaint little shops far from the madding crowd?
Lolling on a Maui beach, rapt by breaking surf and the wind-wafted fragrance of sweet gardenias?
LOLing at the final freeze frame of Larry David getting his comeuppance on Curb Your Enthusiasm?
Watching a great-grandchild frolicking in the park?
Signing your name to a check you've written to give a grandchild a special opportunity?
Putting in order all of your important papers so that your heirs can efficiently use your assets to enjoy their lives?
Enjoying a quiet evening at home, watching the Phoenix Suns win on a last-second 3-pointer by Steve Nash, saying goodnight to your wife, drifting into sleep and then just never waking up?
Holding hands with your wife while reminiscing about your shared life journey and the pride you have in your children?
Saying farewell to your family gathered at your bedside while a nurse sticks a final enhanced morphine drip into your vein?
Reading Proust's Swann's Way aloud to yourself to work on your French pronunciation and smiling wistfully at the sudden relevance of the final phrase, translated as "fugitive, alas, as the years?"
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