The News from Heaven

I have been to Heaven, and now I’m back. Most people talk about what they found there and all the sweet relatives they ran into while taking their first morning's jog. But have you ever wondered what you won't find in Heaven? If so, the following revelations may be of interest:

There’s no email in Heaven. Or texting. No one seems to miss either one. A tech-savvy angel told me, “If you get a chance, tell your friends to log off before they expire.” Also, be advised that "Hit Send" means something different in Heaven than it does down here.

No one in Heaven has Irritable Bowel Syndrome or Acid Reflux. Talk about blessings!

You can’t get Snickers bars in Heaven. But you can special-order Cheetos. I saw a bunch of angels with telltale orange fingers. They were really happy, and not in a “hey, let’s go play our harps” kind of way.

No one in Heaven has heard of Donald Trump. The question drew blank looks. Then I started asking about various other celebrities and political figures. One angel claimed to know Ronald Reagan, but then it turned out he was thinking of the airport.

There are no Casual Fridays in Heaven. This came as a relief, since who, really, has the right jeans for this? However, the philosopher-angels observe “Causal Wednesdays.” I didn’t stick around long enough to find out what this means, but it sounded dire. If and when I go back, I may try to hang with the Cheeto angels instead.

No one in Heaven uses acronyms. In my eleven seconds there (or years, depending on how you count), there was nary a mention of BO or TMI or TMJ or LMAO or YOLO. Suffice it to say, there's time to spell things out.

Finally, there is no ear wax in Heaven. This turns out to be a real point of pride. Angels have the cleanest ears in and beyond the universe.

Just as I was leaving, I yelled out, "Do you have nose hairs?" But before I could divine an answer, I was back home, staring up at an enigmatically clear blue sky above the trampoline. I heard a "ding!" as a text came in, and then an EMT was running toward me, her outstretched hand proffering just the sustenance one needs upon returning from Heaven.

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My Strangers in the Night

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