Over Thanksgiving dinner, my dad is explaining how he’s trying to count up all his assets and figure out if he’s got enough to retire.
“But,” he says, “you know what’s missing from all this retirement planning? The one thing you really need to know but you don’t know?”
I say: “How long you’re going to live.”
“That’s right!” he says. “You don’t know when you’re going to die.”
My grandmother — my mom’s mom — who’s still pretty quick-witted for a woman of 93, pipes in at this point with a solution:
“You’ve got a gun, don’t you?”