I'm Maggie Smith, and this is The Slowdown.

I have sort of an odd confession.

I have a funeral playlist, a list of songs I want played at whatever my memorial service turns out to be.

Occasionally, I add to it, and now and then I remove songs once they've lost their shine.

My kids have laughed about this.

Mom, you're so dark.

But I don't find it morbid at all, really.

I think of my funeral as the last party I'll ever throw, and I'll be there, in spirit at least.

How's that for a mom joke? I spent a lot of time choosing the music for my wedding years ago.

Songs to play as guests arrived, songs for the cocktail hour, songs for the reception.

Why wouldn't I put as much thought into my funeral?

Music is incredibly important to me, and all of my most important memories come with a soundtrack.

The cure tapes I obsessively listened to in middle school.

The Pixies and Liz Fair I played on repeat in high school. The Nico case records I discovered in

college and graduate school. And all of the music that's become part of my personal archive since.

Music is like a time capsule, isn't it?

Listening to a song transports you right back to a time and place,

and sometimes to a person.

I hope everyone at my funeral agrees that the playlist is excellent and very me.

I hope people tell stories anchored by those songs and that there is as much laughter as tears.

I hope people drink and eat and sing along with Can't Hardly Wait by the Replacements

and This must be the place by the talking heads and blonde on blonde by not a surf

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