I have an advance copy of Pulitzer Prize winner Jim Sheeler's new book, "obit," subtitled "Inspiring stories of ordinary people who led extraordinary lives," and started reading it Tuesday night. My plan was to flip through it, but I couldn't put it down.
It's a good read, a showcase for our colleague's deft writing—which we recognized before the Pulitzer committee did—and recommended reading for the two other Atlanta Journal-Constitution obit writers, Derrick Henry and Holly Crenshaw, who gets a mention in the paperback version of Marilyn Johnson's "Dead Beat." Marilyn writes a cover blurb for Jim's book, and it's featured in the publisher's promotional letter, too.
Jim's writing stands the test of time. You can't help but find a new, though dead, friend in "How to Build a Mountain," Edward "Duke" Mallory's obit or admire this quote about the ubiquitous cancer death from the Aimee Grunberger's husband,
"It's not that there's too much cancer in the world. It's just that it's badly distributed."
Tell your bookstore to reserve you a copy and be jealous that I already have mine.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Friday, March 02, 2007
Courageous battles and sensitivity
I teach an adult-education seminar in Marin County, California, titled "Write Your Own Obituary (Or a Loved One's)." In a class a few weeks back, I suggested that students steer of obits cliches including, "She never said a bad word about anyone," and "He'd have given you the shirt off his back."
When I suggested that "a courageous battle" with such-and-such a disease is another hackneyed descriptive we can all do without, one class member taught me a lesson in sensitivity. This 50-something woman was there to write her own obit. She was suffering a recurrence of cancer and said that after enduring repeated rounds of radiation and chemotherapy, the ordeal feels like waging war.
Mea culpa.
When I suggested that "a courageous battle" with such-and-such a disease is another hackneyed descriptive we can all do without, one class member taught me a lesson in sensitivity. This 50-something woman was there to write her own obit. She was suffering a recurrence of cancer and said that after enduring repeated rounds of radiation and chemotherapy, the ordeal feels like waging war.
Mea culpa.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Obit Postponement
Obit Magazine, a bimonthly publication dedicated to chronicling the lives of recently departed major figures, has decided to delay its premiere issue for six more months. The print and online versions of Obit were slated to debut on Feb. 1.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Dr. Starck, Obituarist
Nigel wrote a wonderful obituary of an aborigine painter
for the Guardian. Don't miss it.
http://arts.guardian.co.uk/news/obituary/0,,2005884,00.html
for the Guardian. Don't miss it.
http://arts.guardian.co.uk/news/obituary/0,,2005884,00.html
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Read it and weep.
Seriously. Have a box of Kleenex handy before you start reading Healer who never fell back laid to rest, a Jim Sheeler masterpiece that ran in the Rocky Mountain News on Dec. 30, 2006.
It's about a Marine's bond with the Navy corpsman, who saved his life.
Little touches got to me.
About the Marine sergeant, Jim wrote: The sergeant's father wheeled him into a waiting room, where the Marine asked to sit in the corner, out of the way. Soon, the room was filled with crisp Navy uniforms - admirals, chiefs and hospital corpsmen, many of them sporting dress coats jingling with medals.
Then, down the stairs, the sergeant saw the people who wore no uniforms, the ones who wore only grief.
Jim wrote this about the Navy corpsman: Using his medical equipment as a universal translator - and ice-breaker - he treated Iraqis as well as his own men, forging trust in a place where the word often has no definition. If he saw an Iraqi child with a cut or scrape, he would paste the child with antibacterial cream and bandages and attempt to win his part of the war with Band-Aids.
Wearing grief. Winning a war with Band-Aids. Jim sure has a way with words. And with emotions. You have to read the entire piece to get the full effect.
It's about a Marine's bond with the Navy corpsman, who saved his life.
Little touches got to me.
About the Marine sergeant, Jim wrote: The sergeant's father wheeled him into a waiting room, where the Marine asked to sit in the corner, out of the way. Soon, the room was filled with crisp Navy uniforms - admirals, chiefs and hospital corpsmen, many of them sporting dress coats jingling with medals.
Then, down the stairs, the sergeant saw the people who wore no uniforms, the ones who wore only grief.
Jim wrote this about the Navy corpsman: Using his medical equipment as a universal translator - and ice-breaker - he treated Iraqis as well as his own men, forging trust in a place where the word often has no definition. If he saw an Iraqi child with a cut or scrape, he would paste the child with antibacterial cream and bandages and attempt to win his part of the war with Band-Aids.
Wearing grief. Winning a war with Band-Aids. Jim sure has a way with words. And with emotions. You have to read the entire piece to get the full effect.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
"Pretty amazing" obit for family princess
Jim Sheeler passed along this story, which he called "pretty amazing." I'm sure you'll agree with his assessment.
It's an obituary Erin Sullivan wrote for Cynthia Sargent, homecoming queen and family princess, for the Jan. 22, 2007, edition of the St. Petersburg Times.
Here's the essence of Erin's story about Cynthia:
She never did anything she didn't want to do - and she definitely didn't want to die. People usually did what she wished, without complaint, because they loved her. After 42 years of getting her way, her body was the first to refuse.
For me, coming from a newspaper where the fact that the person is dead is supposed to be mentioned in the first two sentences, I love how Erin made it clear in the lead that Cindy was dead without having to resort to the traditional death sentence.
Her stepfather leaned over her deathbed and said he was going to the store.
The princess' last request? Three ripe, organic, unblemished bananas.
She'd always been particular.
She ordered food like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally, with everything just so and on the side.
Cindy, who preferred to be called Cynthia, because it was more elegant, also wanted to look like the slim, trim homecoming queen that she had been as a teenager.
Erin writes that Cindy's mom remembers a time when the chemotherapy burned Cindy's palms like she had pressed them down on a hot skillet. She and Cindy were going to Wal-Mart to get bandages. But Cindy still took hours getting ready - wig, scarf, outfit, polished toenails, pretty sandals, makeup.
"Cindy," her mom said, exasperated, "what does it matter?"
"But Mom," Cindy said. "I might see someone I know."
You have got to read the entire obit. It's awesome.
It's an obituary Erin Sullivan wrote for Cynthia Sargent, homecoming queen and family princess, for the Jan. 22, 2007, edition of the St. Petersburg Times.
Here's the essence of Erin's story about Cynthia:
She never did anything she didn't want to do - and she definitely didn't want to die. People usually did what she wished, without complaint, because they loved her. After 42 years of getting her way, her body was the first to refuse.
For me, coming from a newspaper where the fact that the person is dead is supposed to be mentioned in the first two sentences, I love how Erin made it clear in the lead that Cindy was dead without having to resort to the traditional death sentence.
Her stepfather leaned over her deathbed and said he was going to the store.
The princess' last request? Three ripe, organic, unblemished bananas.
She'd always been particular.
She ordered food like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally, with everything just so and on the side.
Cindy, who preferred to be called Cynthia, because it was more elegant, also wanted to look like the slim, trim homecoming queen that she had been as a teenager.
Erin writes that Cindy's mom remembers a time when the chemotherapy burned Cindy's palms like she had pressed them down on a hot skillet. She and Cindy were going to Wal-Mart to get bandages. But Cindy still took hours getting ready - wig, scarf, outfit, polished toenails, pretty sandals, makeup.
"Cindy," her mom said, exasperated, "what does it matter?"
"But Mom," Cindy said. "I might see someone I know."
You have got to read the entire obit. It's awesome.
Written by the Deceased
Charles L. Fontenay, a science fiction writer and former editor for The Tennessean, died on Jan. 27. Cause of death was not released. He was 89.
Those were the bare facts of Fontenay's obit. But there was oh so much more.
During his 40-plus years at The Tennessean, Fontenay worked as a general assignment reporter, science reporter, legislative and political writer, city editor and rewrite editor. In his spare time, he prepared advance obituaries on prominent people -- including his own.
"Charles L. Fontenay, most of whose half century-plus as a newspaperman was spent with The Tennessean, surprised himself and delighted many of his colleagues by dying yesterday."
Although the self-penned piece was a bit long -- particularly for a professional editor -- I thoroughly enjoyed reading about Charles' work, hobbies and life experiences. His article also reminded me to look beyond the bare facts of a person's life when I'm researching/writing obits, and really delve into the details. For it is there that the best stories are found.
Those were the bare facts of Fontenay's obit. But there was oh so much more.
During his 40-plus years at The Tennessean, Fontenay worked as a general assignment reporter, science reporter, legislative and political writer, city editor and rewrite editor. In his spare time, he prepared advance obituaries on prominent people -- including his own.
"Charles L. Fontenay, most of whose half century-plus as a newspaperman was spent with The Tennessean, surprised himself and delighted many of his colleagues by dying yesterday."
Although the self-penned piece was a bit long -- particularly for a professional editor -- I thoroughly enjoyed reading about Charles' work, hobbies and life experiences. His article also reminded me to look beyond the bare facts of a person's life when I'm researching/writing obits, and really delve into the details. For it is there that the best stories are found.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
To Err Is Human, To Forgive Divine
Everyone makes mistakes, yet when you make an error in an obituary -- the final story to document someone's life and achievements -- it is important to immediately fix the problem.
Michelle Martin made such a mistake in the last issue of the Catholic New World. She ran the wrong photo on Father John M. Murphy's obit; the picture actually showed Father Cliff Bergin, who is still among the living. Although the story was later corrected in print, Martin also wrote an entire column of apology to everyone involved.
"My apologies to Father Cliff Bergin, the priest (living, I am happy to say) whose picture ran, and to Father Murphy's family. I'd apologize to Father Murphy, too, but I suspect he isn't so interested in worldly concerns anymore -- and if he was, that his sense of humor would kick in. I hope he would forgive me -- as I hope those who love him, as well as Father Bergin and his family have," Martin wrote.
Michelle Martin made such a mistake in the last issue of the Catholic New World. She ran the wrong photo on Father John M. Murphy's obit; the picture actually showed Father Cliff Bergin, who is still among the living. Although the story was later corrected in print, Martin also wrote an entire column of apology to everyone involved.
"My apologies to Father Cliff Bergin, the priest (living, I am happy to say) whose picture ran, and to Father Murphy's family. I'd apologize to Father Murphy, too, but I suspect he isn't so interested in worldly concerns anymore -- and if he was, that his sense of humor would kick in. I hope he would forgive me -- as I hope those who love him, as well as Father Bergin and his family have," Martin wrote.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Gussie and the knitting factory
The better portion of the obituary I wrote for Gussie Jones, that was published in The Plain Dealer on Jan. 13, 2007, focused on her late-in-life career as a volunteer, helping fellow seniors at a senior center.
Gussie was in her 70s, when she started volunteering at an adult day care center in the late 1980s. She was honored with an award for her dedication when she was approaching 90. What a great person she must have been!
But the following lines I wrote about a job Gussie held earlier in life ended up giving me the warm fuzzies:
In the 1940s, when her children were young and her husband, a city employee, became too ill to work, Gussie took a job at the H.E. Frisch Knitting Mills, which later became part of the Bobbie Brooks Co.
Her boss "was a German man," said Jones' daughter Shirley Parker-McCoy. "His machines were brought over from the old country. They made a special kind of knit. She worked nights. She would walk around the machines so they didn't get a hole in the knitting."
I like to include little tidbits of history - in this case local history - in obits. Some readers get nostalgic over such things. Others stroke their chins and say, "Hmm. I've never heard of that."
This time, I heard from a reader whose family owned the knitting mill. He wrote: I have a DVD showing my father and Gussie's German boss and the machinery she was operating. It may be interesting to her family. How can I contact them?
Naturally, I don't give out phone numbers, mailing or e-mail addresses for the relatives of the people I write about. I usually forward e-mails, when possible, or call the family to give them the option of contacting the person. Or I simply advise the interested party to check the phone book - on paper or online - or contact the funeral home. Funeral directors should be able to forward condolences and such to the family.
In Gussie's case, I called her daughter in Georgia to relay the e-mailer's message. The end result: The e-mailer sent Gussie's kids the video to show them the machine from the old country that she'd always told them about.
I love when that happens.
Gussie was in her 70s, when she started volunteering at an adult day care center in the late 1980s. She was honored with an award for her dedication when she was approaching 90. What a great person she must have been!
But the following lines I wrote about a job Gussie held earlier in life ended up giving me the warm fuzzies:
In the 1940s, when her children were young and her husband, a city employee, became too ill to work, Gussie took a job at the H.E. Frisch Knitting Mills, which later became part of the Bobbie Brooks Co.
Her boss "was a German man," said Jones' daughter Shirley Parker-McCoy. "His machines were brought over from the old country. They made a special kind of knit. She worked nights. She would walk around the machines so they didn't get a hole in the knitting."
I like to include little tidbits of history - in this case local history - in obits. Some readers get nostalgic over such things. Others stroke their chins and say, "Hmm. I've never heard of that."
This time, I heard from a reader whose family owned the knitting mill. He wrote: I have a DVD showing my father and Gussie's German boss and the machinery she was operating. It may be interesting to her family. How can I contact them?
Naturally, I don't give out phone numbers, mailing or e-mail addresses for the relatives of the people I write about. I usually forward e-mails, when possible, or call the family to give them the option of contacting the person. Or I simply advise the interested party to check the phone book - on paper or online - or contact the funeral home. Funeral directors should be able to forward condolences and such to the family.
In Gussie's case, I called her daughter in Georgia to relay the e-mailer's message. The end result: The e-mailer sent Gussie's kids the video to show them the machine from the old country that she'd always told them about.
I love when that happens.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Funeral TV, The Funeral Channel, RIP TV
I missed a lot of the week or so of live television coverage of funerary events for the late former President Gerald Ford and James Brown, the Godfather of Soul.
Because of Ford's position as the former leader of the free world, CSPAN, PBS and the cable news networks repeated most of the pomp and circumstance of late prez's family-and-friends services in California, motorcade to the Capitol, ceremonies at the Capitol, his lying in state, public services at the Washington Cathedral and the grand finale in Grand Rapids, Mich.
Portions of the eulogizing of Ford by then-House Speaker Dennis Hastert and of Brown by now-reclusive pop star Michael Jackson were re-broadcast on talk and entertainment shows, but not in their entirety.
I was unable to stay home from work to watch live coverage of this death-related hoopla. And I felt somehow deprived for having missed any of it - particularly the musical tributes to Brown.
I also wanted to compare their sendoffs with those of other presidents and entertainment icons. Nostalgia swept over me. Could I please see repeats of the funerals of Presidents Reagan, Nixon, Kennedy and Roosevelt? How about some historic reports on pre-TV presidential funerals, like Lincoln, Washington and Jefferson? How did James Brown's tributes compare with the recently deceased R&B star Gerald Levert or country legend Johnny Cash or just-plain-legendary Frank Sinatra?
If only my cable company offered a cable channel dedicated to funerals! Funeral TV! The Funeral Channel! Insomniacs flipping through the remote control could find videotaped or phone-cam images from funerals of the dearly - or notoriously - departed rich and famous to watch and/or fall asleep to.
I mentioned this to a few friends, who thought the notion of all funerals, all day on one channel strange and amusing. That's how I felt when I first learned about The Weather Channel or CSPAN2's BookTV. And yet I have become a fan of both.
Before composing this blog item, I was reminded of these paraphrased words of the late great comedian/philosopher/songwriter/TV-host Steve Allen: If an idea is good, more than likely you are not the only one who has thought of it.
So I googled "Funeral Channel" and "Funeral TV." Yep. I got lots of hits.
In a 1997 salon.com piece titled "Why funerals play so well on TV," author Steven D. Stark wrote:
Mourning no longer becomes Electra, but in a very odd way, it does become television -- so much so that Michael Kinsley (journalist who was Pat Buchanan's liberal adversary on CNN's "Crossfire") several years ago (apparently in the early 1990s or 1980s) jokingly suggested that cable television would one day feature a new network called the Funeral Channel.
I found a 1999 "Insight on the News" piece in which writer Jennifer G. Hickey talked about a Clown Funeral. She wrote:
It was a big day for the big top in Hugo, Okla., particularly for Doris Richard Miller, otherwise known as Mr. Circus, who died in September but had been put on ice by the Carson & Barnes five-ring circus until the show season concluded. While big red noses and cymbal-playing monkeys were not called for, Mr. Circus had left careful instructions for his last performance, -- including being laid out in a red and gold casket, to be carried by a horse-drawn hearse followed by marching musicians playing circus music to enliven his journey to the hereafter.
This "best funeral ever" even included in the procession one of Miller's 36 elephants, missing only live coverage by the cable-TV networks. If only there were a 24-hour funeral channel.
"Think how wonderfully ludicrous that would be. I don't think it is viable, but it is the logical extension" of the current coverage, suggests Jane Hall, associate professor of communication at American University in Washington. While the notion of an all-funeral channel (let's call it RIP-TV) may elicit a dismissive giggle from enthusiasts of black humor, the recent trend of airing everything from tragic events to the funerals that follow them suggests that there may be a Harold and Maude market.
The Blue Aardvark, a prolific message-board contributor penned this comment on Andy Polley's Happy Fun Time message board:
This reminds me that what this world really needs is The Funeral Channel. There always a good one going on somewhere. Slack time could be filled with historic packages.
My sentiments exactly.
Practical reasons for a Grim Channel are given in "What's Playing On The Funeral Channel?" from Nov. 1998. (I'm not certain where it first appeared.):
Retired sociology professor Robert Fulton, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, says people shouldn't be surprised to see a "funeral channel" added to cable network offerings in the near future. Televised funeral services for celebrities and public figures have provided big ratings for CNN, MSNBC, and the Fox News Channel, with some networks doubling viewership.
"Watching televised funerals provides a chance for people to express emotion, or at least see others expressing [it]," Fulton explains. "People afraid of death can also keep it at a distance." For example, the high-profile deaths of Princess Diana, Mother Teresa, politicians Barry Goldwater and Sonny Bono, and country-and-western singer Tammy Wynette had networks scrambling to broadcast funerals. "It's packaged death--a way of keeping death under control. We can see the grief on the faces of family and friends, but we are spared that."
My Internet search also discovered references to funeral homes offering Webcasts of funerals for mourners unable to attend; a movie titled "Funeral Channel," a dark comedy which apparently was made in 1999 but never released; and support for a funeral channel in the mode of the History Channel or Biography from Rychard E. Withers, who posts with WNN, an online discussion group for fans of ABC's "World News Now."
In a 2003 entry, Withers wrote:
And I've been saying for years that this would be a cable channel that would
work . . steady supply of material and lots of big names . . . "The Funeral Channel . . . now you'll know the bastard's dead."
Because of Ford's position as the former leader of the free world, CSPAN, PBS and the cable news networks repeated most of the pomp and circumstance of late prez's family-and-friends services in California, motorcade to the Capitol, ceremonies at the Capitol, his lying in state, public services at the Washington Cathedral and the grand finale in Grand Rapids, Mich.
Portions of the eulogizing of Ford by then-House Speaker Dennis Hastert and of Brown by now-reclusive pop star Michael Jackson were re-broadcast on talk and entertainment shows, but not in their entirety.
I was unable to stay home from work to watch live coverage of this death-related hoopla. And I felt somehow deprived for having missed any of it - particularly the musical tributes to Brown.
I also wanted to compare their sendoffs with those of other presidents and entertainment icons. Nostalgia swept over me. Could I please see repeats of the funerals of Presidents Reagan, Nixon, Kennedy and Roosevelt? How about some historic reports on pre-TV presidential funerals, like Lincoln, Washington and Jefferson? How did James Brown's tributes compare with the recently deceased R&B star Gerald Levert or country legend Johnny Cash or just-plain-legendary Frank Sinatra?
If only my cable company offered a cable channel dedicated to funerals! Funeral TV! The Funeral Channel! Insomniacs flipping through the remote control could find videotaped or phone-cam images from funerals of the dearly - or notoriously - departed rich and famous to watch and/or fall asleep to.
I mentioned this to a few friends, who thought the notion of all funerals, all day on one channel strange and amusing. That's how I felt when I first learned about The Weather Channel or CSPAN2's BookTV. And yet I have become a fan of both.
Before composing this blog item, I was reminded of these paraphrased words of the late great comedian/philosopher/songwriter/TV-host Steve Allen: If an idea is good, more than likely you are not the only one who has thought of it.
So I googled "Funeral Channel" and "Funeral TV." Yep. I got lots of hits.
In a 1997 salon.com piece titled "Why funerals play so well on TV," author Steven D. Stark wrote:
Mourning no longer becomes Electra, but in a very odd way, it does become television -- so much so that Michael Kinsley (journalist who was Pat Buchanan's liberal adversary on CNN's "Crossfire") several years ago (apparently in the early 1990s or 1980s) jokingly suggested that cable television would one day feature a new network called the Funeral Channel.
I found a 1999 "Insight on the News" piece in which writer Jennifer G. Hickey talked about a Clown Funeral. She wrote:
It was a big day for the big top in Hugo, Okla., particularly for Doris Richard Miller, otherwise known as Mr. Circus, who died in September but had been put on ice by the Carson & Barnes five-ring circus until the show season concluded. While big red noses and cymbal-playing monkeys were not called for, Mr. Circus had left careful instructions for his last performance, -- including being laid out in a red and gold casket, to be carried by a horse-drawn hearse followed by marching musicians playing circus music to enliven his journey to the hereafter.
This "best funeral ever" even included in the procession one of Miller's 36 elephants, missing only live coverage by the cable-TV networks. If only there were a 24-hour funeral channel.
"Think how wonderfully ludicrous that would be. I don't think it is viable, but it is the logical extension" of the current coverage, suggests Jane Hall, associate professor of communication at American University in Washington. While the notion of an all-funeral channel (let's call it RIP-TV) may elicit a dismissive giggle from enthusiasts of black humor, the recent trend of airing everything from tragic events to the funerals that follow them suggests that there may be a Harold and Maude market.
The Blue Aardvark, a prolific message-board contributor penned this comment on Andy Polley's Happy Fun Time message board:
This reminds me that what this world really needs is The Funeral Channel. There always a good one going on somewhere. Slack time could be filled with historic packages.
My sentiments exactly.
Practical reasons for a Grim Channel are given in "What's Playing On The Funeral Channel?" from Nov. 1998. (I'm not certain where it first appeared.):
Retired sociology professor Robert Fulton, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, says people shouldn't be surprised to see a "funeral channel" added to cable network offerings in the near future. Televised funeral services for celebrities and public figures have provided big ratings for CNN, MSNBC, and the Fox News Channel, with some networks doubling viewership.
"Watching televised funerals provides a chance for people to express emotion, or at least see others expressing [it]," Fulton explains. "People afraid of death can also keep it at a distance." For example, the high-profile deaths of Princess Diana, Mother Teresa, politicians Barry Goldwater and Sonny Bono, and country-and-western singer Tammy Wynette had networks scrambling to broadcast funerals. "It's packaged death--a way of keeping death under control. We can see the grief on the faces of family and friends, but we are spared that."
My Internet search also discovered references to funeral homes offering Webcasts of funerals for mourners unable to attend; a movie titled "Funeral Channel," a dark comedy which apparently was made in 1999 but never released; and support for a funeral channel in the mode of the History Channel or Biography from Rychard E. Withers, who posts with WNN, an online discussion group for fans of ABC's "World News Now."
In a 2003 entry, Withers wrote:
And I've been saying for years that this would be a cable channel that would
work . . steady supply of material and lots of big names . . . "The Funeral Channel . . . now you'll know the bastard's dead."
Saturday, December 30, 2006
My New Year's resolution for 2007
I, Alana Baranick, keeper of this blog, do resolve to keep the "obituary forum" blog more current by posting new items more often and by bugging my fellow grimsters to do the same.
But before I start trying to hold true to that resolution, I plan to post a succession of year-end items that I've been meaning to post over the last month or more. And I invite my obit-writing and obit-loving friends to do the same.
Have a wonderful, prosperous and enjoyable 2007.
But before I start trying to hold true to that resolution, I plan to post a succession of year-end items that I've been meaning to post over the last month or more. And I invite my obit-writing and obit-loving friends to do the same.
Have a wonderful, prosperous and enjoyable 2007.
They come in 3s.
The proverbial "they" say that deaths come in threes.
That's probably because "they" are aware of two newsmakers, two colleagues, two relatives or any two people, whom they have known or heard about, who may or may not be connected to them in some way, who have died on the same day or within a short time of one another.
Then they wait for the third shoe to drop, which is peculiar when you think about it, since most of us wear only two shoes at a time.
They're reading the obit pages. They're watching the cable news crawls more closely. They get up early to watch morning television shows in case someone famous died overnight. Surely they'll find a third decedent to complete the hat trick.
On Christmas, James Brown, internationally recognized as the Godfather of Soul, died. His music is, as they say, is part of the soundtrack of our lives. He influenced and will continue to influence generations of musicians and genres of music that go way beyond R&B, funk and rock 'n' roll.
Some of his less-than-steller offstage behavior landed him in court and/or jail, but that didn't diminish our affection for him. After listening to a James Brown song or seeing him perform, we could always say, "I feel good!"
His farewell funeral tour, which included stops at memorial musical-, preaching- and love-fests at the Apollo Theater in New York City, a small church in North Augusta, N.C., and James Brown Arena in Augusta, Ga., was barely announced when along comes Ford.
Gerald Ford, who had a short stint as president of the United States, died Tuesday, Dec. 26.
They're calling Ford "the accidental president." Appointed, never elected to national office. He landed in the White House on the support of what in the big picture amounted to only a handful of Michigan voters and by virtue of, well, his virtue.
His reputation as a good guy, an honest man and agreeable Congressman tipped the scale in the decision of his predecessor, Richard Nixon, in selecting him to replace the disgraced Spiro Agnew as vice president. And that, of course, automatically made him president when Nixon resigned as president.
Like Brown, Ford's funerary events are taking place at several venues: in Palm Desert, Calif., Washington, D.C., and Grand Rapids, Mich.
Unlike Brown with his offstage behavior and jail time, Ford upset a lot of people by pardoning Nixon for crimes he may have committed in office. Ford himself later got a pardon of sorts for granting the Nixon pardon in the form of a Profiles in Courage award from the Kennedy clan.
We'd been waiting for the death of the 93-year-old ex-president, whose frequent hospital visits in recent years had newspaper editors ready to stop the presses. But we were stunned when the 73-year-old hardest-working man in show business died.
As happens after just about every pair of notable deaths, I speculated with friends and family on "Who will be the third?"
Although we could mention elderly and/or ailing newsmakers from the United States and, oh, I don't know, maybe Cuba, in our private musings about "The Third," we talked about No. 3 being someone different from Ford and Brown. Maybe someone on a lesser plane of fame, significance. Maybe female. Younger than those we might expect. Possibly one of those tabloid celebrities, whose contributions to the world, if any, will quickly be forgotten.
Boy! Were we wrong! Out there in plain sight, a death sentence (you'll excuse the expression) hanging over his head. I never would have thought that Saddam Hussein would seemingly come out of nowhere to catapult to No. 3 on death charts. But he did. Dec. 29. Executed. Hanged. For crimes against humanity.
As eulogies, memorial events and our mourning for Gerald Ford and James Brown continue, reporters and pundits will remind us of the life that Saddam Hussein lived and the countless lives he ruined.
That's a good thing - reminding us. I'm glad that disturbing images of torture and murder committed under SH's regime in Iraq are shown on TV while assorted voices discuss his life and the significance of his death.
We should not forget. As "they" also say: Those who forget history are destined to repeat it.
That's probably because "they" are aware of two newsmakers, two colleagues, two relatives or any two people, whom they have known or heard about, who may or may not be connected to them in some way, who have died on the same day or within a short time of one another.
Then they wait for the third shoe to drop, which is peculiar when you think about it, since most of us wear only two shoes at a time.
They're reading the obit pages. They're watching the cable news crawls more closely. They get up early to watch morning television shows in case someone famous died overnight. Surely they'll find a third decedent to complete the hat trick.
On Christmas, James Brown, internationally recognized as the Godfather of Soul, died. His music is, as they say, is part of the soundtrack of our lives. He influenced and will continue to influence generations of musicians and genres of music that go way beyond R&B, funk and rock 'n' roll.
Some of his less-than-steller offstage behavior landed him in court and/or jail, but that didn't diminish our affection for him. After listening to a James Brown song or seeing him perform, we could always say, "I feel good!"
His farewell funeral tour, which included stops at memorial musical-, preaching- and love-fests at the Apollo Theater in New York City, a small church in North Augusta, N.C., and James Brown Arena in Augusta, Ga., was barely announced when along comes Ford.
Gerald Ford, who had a short stint as president of the United States, died Tuesday, Dec. 26.
They're calling Ford "the accidental president." Appointed, never elected to national office. He landed in the White House on the support of what in the big picture amounted to only a handful of Michigan voters and by virtue of, well, his virtue.
His reputation as a good guy, an honest man and agreeable Congressman tipped the scale in the decision of his predecessor, Richard Nixon, in selecting him to replace the disgraced Spiro Agnew as vice president. And that, of course, automatically made him president when Nixon resigned as president.
Like Brown, Ford's funerary events are taking place at several venues: in Palm Desert, Calif., Washington, D.C., and Grand Rapids, Mich.
Unlike Brown with his offstage behavior and jail time, Ford upset a lot of people by pardoning Nixon for crimes he may have committed in office. Ford himself later got a pardon of sorts for granting the Nixon pardon in the form of a Profiles in Courage award from the Kennedy clan.
We'd been waiting for the death of the 93-year-old ex-president, whose frequent hospital visits in recent years had newspaper editors ready to stop the presses. But we were stunned when the 73-year-old hardest-working man in show business died.
As happens after just about every pair of notable deaths, I speculated with friends and family on "Who will be the third?"
Although we could mention elderly and/or ailing newsmakers from the United States and, oh, I don't know, maybe Cuba, in our private musings about "The Third," we talked about No. 3 being someone different from Ford and Brown. Maybe someone on a lesser plane of fame, significance. Maybe female. Younger than those we might expect. Possibly one of those tabloid celebrities, whose contributions to the world, if any, will quickly be forgotten.
Boy! Were we wrong! Out there in plain sight, a death sentence (you'll excuse the expression) hanging over his head. I never would have thought that Saddam Hussein would seemingly come out of nowhere to catapult to No. 3 on death charts. But he did. Dec. 29. Executed. Hanged. For crimes against humanity.
As eulogies, memorial events and our mourning for Gerald Ford and James Brown continue, reporters and pundits will remind us of the life that Saddam Hussein lived and the countless lives he ruined.
That's a good thing - reminding us. I'm glad that disturbing images of torture and murder committed under SH's regime in Iraq are shown on TV while assorted voices discuss his life and the significance of his death.
We should not forget. As "they" also say: Those who forget history are destined to repeat it.
Monday, December 18, 2006
The Journalism of Death
The Sacramento Bee in Sacramento, Calif., has decided to give obituaries a higher priority.
According to the paper's public editor Armando Acuña, The Bee is currently publishing a local news obit nearly every day. Recent features include a homeless man, a flood control expert, a pilot who ferried governors around the state and an organist.
These well-written obits are not only informative, they're also popular with readers. They're "consistently among the highest read items on the paper's Web site," Acuña said.
According to the paper's public editor Armando Acuña, The Bee is currently publishing a local news obit nearly every day. Recent features include a homeless man, a flood control expert, a pilot who ferried governors around the state and an organist.
These well-written obits are not only informative, they're also popular with readers. They're "consistently among the highest read items on the paper's Web site," Acuña said.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Adam B. and his weekly radio gig
Every Sunday at around 11:40 a.m., Adam Bernstein, deputy obituaries editor for The Washington Post, gets 10 minutes of radio airtime to talk about the lives of people who died during the previous week.
He gets his sixth-of-an-hour on Bob Levey's Sunday morning show, which is accessible via the Internet at Washington Post Radio.
This morning, Adam talked with Bob about Peter Boyle ("Young Frankenstein" and "Everybody Loves Raymond") and Ahmet Ertegun (Atlantic Records, Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame).
Adam mentioned some things about these men that didn't make it into the published obits.
It was short, but sweet. Tune in next time.
He gets his sixth-of-an-hour on Bob Levey's Sunday morning show, which is accessible via the Internet at Washington Post Radio.
This morning, Adam talked with Bob about Peter Boyle ("Young Frankenstein" and "Everybody Loves Raymond") and Ahmet Ertegun (Atlantic Records, Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame).
Adam mentioned some things about these men that didn't make it into the published obits.
It was short, but sweet. Tune in next time.
Nigel Starck's "Life After Death"
Just in time for Insert-appropriate-winter-holiday-here, I received a copy of "Life After Death" by Nigel Starck, Australia's and possibly the world's greatest authority on obituaries in English-language newspapers.
His book was my gift to myself.
I thought I could read the entire book in a couple of days and post a complete report for you here. But such is not the case. Like a ravenous guest at a buffet dinner, I devoured samples from each chapter much faster than my brain could digest the text.
I'll have to read it again more slowly and thoroughly, but that won't stop me from giving a short report now.
In his book, Nigel writes about the history and development of obits from 1622 to modern times. He talks about various styles of obits, how lives and deaths are portrayed in print and such issues as ethics and judgement. He includes many of his all-time favorite obits.
Much of the information is familiar to those of us who have attended Carolyn Gilbert's Great Obituary Writers Conferences and to readers and contributors to this Obituary Forum blog.
We've heard Nigel give presentations on the subject during the years in which he traveled throughout the United States, United Kingdom and, of course, Australia conducting research for his doctoral thesis on obituary and newspaper practice.
He cites many of us, the obits we've written, books and other articles we've penned, remarks we've made at conference sessions and in casual conversation. Tom Hobbs, our favorite university librarian, gets a special nod for his contributions as a researcher.
The tone of "Life After Death" reflects the personality of its author. Scholarly, charming, amusing and fun.
To order "Life After Death," click the "Life on the Death Beat" image at the top of the sidebar on the right. It will take you to a page with links to Nigel's and several other obit-related books.
His book was my gift to myself.
I thought I could read the entire book in a couple of days and post a complete report for you here. But such is not the case. Like a ravenous guest at a buffet dinner, I devoured samples from each chapter much faster than my brain could digest the text.
I'll have to read it again more slowly and thoroughly, but that won't stop me from giving a short report now.
In his book, Nigel writes about the history and development of obits from 1622 to modern times. He talks about various styles of obits, how lives and deaths are portrayed in print and such issues as ethics and judgement. He includes many of his all-time favorite obits.
Much of the information is familiar to those of us who have attended Carolyn Gilbert's Great Obituary Writers Conferences and to readers and contributors to this Obituary Forum blog.
We've heard Nigel give presentations on the subject during the years in which he traveled throughout the United States, United Kingdom and, of course, Australia conducting research for his doctoral thesis on obituary and newspaper practice.
He cites many of us, the obits we've written, books and other articles we've penned, remarks we've made at conference sessions and in casual conversation. Tom Hobbs, our favorite university librarian, gets a special nod for his contributions as a researcher.
The tone of "Life After Death" reflects the personality of its author. Scholarly, charming, amusing and fun.
To order "Life After Death," click the "Life on the Death Beat" image at the top of the sidebar on the right. It will take you to a page with links to Nigel's and several other obit-related books.
Newer version of the obituary forum blog
Attention, fellow obit bloggers.
Our blogger hosts have done some technical stuff that I don't completely understand yet. It has something to do with switching to Blogger in beta. You can go to blogger help to read about this new development. I welcome your explanations - in layman's terms - of what this all means.
Apparently, as the administrator of this team blog, I will be required at some point to switch to the newer version. When I do that, you may not be able to post items immediately. You may have to go through the registration process all over again.
If this happens, please tell me about it, so we can fix things.
I hope to understand this stuff before the end of 2006 and make the switch for 2007.
Our blogger hosts have done some technical stuff that I don't completely understand yet. It has something to do with switching to Blogger in beta. You can go to blogger help to read about this new development. I welcome your explanations - in layman's terms - of what this all means.
Apparently, as the administrator of this team blog, I will be required at some point to switch to the newer version. When I do that, you may not be able to post items immediately. You may have to go through the registration process all over again.
If this happens, please tell me about it, so we can fix things.
I hope to understand this stuff before the end of 2006 and make the switch for 2007.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Dying to be on screen
"$136 a day, including lunch from Kraft Services." It's not easy being a dead body.
Monday, November 27, 2006
State of not-necessarily-holy matrimony
I recently wrote a feature obituary in which I included the fact that, when the man I was writing about died, he and his wife were in the process of legally ending their marriage.
I got the sum total of two complaints for saying this. One was from the wife. The other from an anonymous caller, who also called our managing editor.
When I write what I would call a standard obituary, I include a list of surviving relatives. No matter what the relationship between the deceased and the spouse was, the spouse would be listed as the spouse, as long as they were still married. And an ex-spouse would not be listed because we don't include ex-spouses, no matter how close the two were.
I did an obit a few years ago for a man, who had been living in an apartment with his live-in girlfriend for something like 25 years, while his wife lived in the house in which they had raised their kids. These two would never legally divorce. I think it had something to do with their religion. I listed his wife as the surviving spouse. I did not list or even mention the girlfriend.
I've done obits for people who had divorces in the works at the time that one of them died. Again, I listed the surviving spouse. They weren't exed yet.
The recent feature obit in which I mentioned the divorce-in-the-works was "A Life Story," which takes up half a page, has a 20-inch story, a small biobox with mug and three other pictures, showing the story subject at different times of life and engaged in different activities.
I don't often use up precious space to list all of the person's surviving relatives. If the deceased had five kids, for example, I would call her "the mother of five" rather than name all the kids. (Once in a while, circumstances dictate that I name them. But I won't get into that here.)
Also, when we run a picture of the deceased with all the kids, I give their names in the caption.
One of the pictures for the man with the pending divorce showed him and his wife on their wedding day. (I'm getting tired of running wedding pictures with these features, but this was an exceptionally good photo.)
So in the caption, I wrote that they were married on such-and-such a date. And that at the time of his death, they were separated and in the process of legally ending their 25-year marriage. That statement was accurate.
The wife never mentioned to me that they were getting divorced. I found out about that, when I checked the online county court docket to see whether he was involved in any pending court cases or had a criminal record.
Friends and family confirmed what I read in the court account - that if he had lived another two weeks, their marriage would have been over. But I really should have called the wife to address this. Or at least alerted her to the fact that I was going to mention it.
When she complained about it after the story ran, she said that, if I had called her, she would have told me that they had agreed to reconcile. I would have no way to know whether that was true. I probably would have put it in quotes.
In retrospect, I should have told my editor that we should not include the wedding photo. I mentioned the wife in the story, saying that this fellow met his wife when they both worked at the same place. That might have been sufficient.
I got the sum total of two complaints for saying this. One was from the wife. The other from an anonymous caller, who also called our managing editor.
When I write what I would call a standard obituary, I include a list of surviving relatives. No matter what the relationship between the deceased and the spouse was, the spouse would be listed as the spouse, as long as they were still married. And an ex-spouse would not be listed because we don't include ex-spouses, no matter how close the two were.
I did an obit a few years ago for a man, who had been living in an apartment with his live-in girlfriend for something like 25 years, while his wife lived in the house in which they had raised their kids. These two would never legally divorce. I think it had something to do with their religion. I listed his wife as the surviving spouse. I did not list or even mention the girlfriend.
I've done obits for people who had divorces in the works at the time that one of them died. Again, I listed the surviving spouse. They weren't exed yet.
The recent feature obit in which I mentioned the divorce-in-the-works was "A Life Story," which takes up half a page, has a 20-inch story, a small biobox with mug and three other pictures, showing the story subject at different times of life and engaged in different activities.
I don't often use up precious space to list all of the person's surviving relatives. If the deceased had five kids, for example, I would call her "the mother of five" rather than name all the kids. (Once in a while, circumstances dictate that I name them. But I won't get into that here.)
Also, when we run a picture of the deceased with all the kids, I give their names in the caption.
One of the pictures for the man with the pending divorce showed him and his wife on their wedding day. (I'm getting tired of running wedding pictures with these features, but this was an exceptionally good photo.)
So in the caption, I wrote that they were married on such-and-such a date. And that at the time of his death, they were separated and in the process of legally ending their 25-year marriage. That statement was accurate.
The wife never mentioned to me that they were getting divorced. I found out about that, when I checked the online county court docket to see whether he was involved in any pending court cases or had a criminal record.
Friends and family confirmed what I read in the court account - that if he had lived another two weeks, their marriage would have been over. But I really should have called the wife to address this. Or at least alerted her to the fact that I was going to mention it.
When she complained about it after the story ran, she said that, if I had called her, she would have told me that they had agreed to reconcile. I would have no way to know whether that was true. I probably would have put it in quotes.
In retrospect, I should have told my editor that we should not include the wedding photo. I mentioned the wife in the story, saying that this fellow met his wife when they both worked at the same place. That might have been sufficient.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Censoring obits for political content
When a 93-year-old Bush-bashing woman penned her obit in advance, she included some political comments that kept the Albany (N.Y.) Times Union from printing the piece for three days. And it was a paid obit!
Protests from members of the First Unitarian Universalist Society, who apparently knew the woman, prompted the paper to publish a slightly altered version (with the consent of her daughter) and do a story about the incident.
In the story, which ran Nov. 3, 2006, reporter Paul Grondahl shared the portion of Helen Sharpe's auto-obituary that "ran afoul" of his paper's guidelines:
She left strict instructions that there be no schmaltzy sentimentality of mourning, urging that in lieu of expressions of grief people should send urgent messages to their legislators to force U.S. signing of the Kyoto Protocol, then vote in such a way as to send Bush a strong message of disgust with his policies and politics.
At first, newspaper ad reps tried to get Sharpe's daughter to "tone down the political rhetoric," but the daughter declined. She was prepared to take out a half-page display ad (which apparently would not have gone through such scrutiny) with a $7,100 pricetag, in order to publish her mom's own words.
According to Grondahl's article, the daughter said: "It's not about the money. It's about the principle."
In the end, it was amended to say that Sharpe hoped that people who wish to remember her continue to support the Kyoto Protocol and oppose the Bush Administration.
Grondahl added some nice touches to his story. He pointed out that Sharpe, a self-described born-again atheist, frequently wrote letters to the editor advocating euthanasia for humans, as well as respect for atheists and agnostics. She decided she was ready to die and took prearranged steps to end her life on Monday.
It was unclear what prearranged steps Sharpe took.
Grondahl wrote: In her final hours, Helen Sharpe struggled to rise from her sickbed to make her daughter jelly tarts, "So you'll have sweetness in your mouth, instead of bitterness."
He described a planned celebration of her life and ended his piece with her last words:
She left instructions for that event, as well: a case of good wine and a selection of gourmet cheeses. A pianist will play Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue."
Helen Sharpe's final words to her daughter were these: "We're so lucky, aren't we?"
Well done, Paul Grondahl!
I have to give credit to Pam Vetter for forwarding this story that's been circulating among funeral celebrants.
And I must confess that I too engaged in a form of censorship regarding this. I waited to post this item until after the Nov. 7 elections were over. I know, I know. Shame on me.
Protests from members of the First Unitarian Universalist Society, who apparently knew the woman, prompted the paper to publish a slightly altered version (with the consent of her daughter) and do a story about the incident.
In the story, which ran Nov. 3, 2006, reporter Paul Grondahl shared the portion of Helen Sharpe's auto-obituary that "ran afoul" of his paper's guidelines:
She left strict instructions that there be no schmaltzy sentimentality of mourning, urging that in lieu of expressions of grief people should send urgent messages to their legislators to force U.S. signing of the Kyoto Protocol, then vote in such a way as to send Bush a strong message of disgust with his policies and politics.
At first, newspaper ad reps tried to get Sharpe's daughter to "tone down the political rhetoric," but the daughter declined. She was prepared to take out a half-page display ad (which apparently would not have gone through such scrutiny) with a $7,100 pricetag, in order to publish her mom's own words.
According to Grondahl's article, the daughter said: "It's not about the money. It's about the principle."
In the end, it was amended to say that Sharpe hoped that people who wish to remember her continue to support the Kyoto Protocol and oppose the Bush Administration.
Grondahl added some nice touches to his story. He pointed out that Sharpe, a self-described born-again atheist, frequently wrote letters to the editor advocating euthanasia for humans, as well as respect for atheists and agnostics. She decided she was ready to die and took prearranged steps to end her life on Monday.
It was unclear what prearranged steps Sharpe took.
Grondahl wrote: In her final hours, Helen Sharpe struggled to rise from her sickbed to make her daughter jelly tarts, "So you'll have sweetness in your mouth, instead of bitterness."
He described a planned celebration of her life and ended his piece with her last words:
She left instructions for that event, as well: a case of good wine and a selection of gourmet cheeses. A pianist will play Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue."
Helen Sharpe's final words to her daughter were these: "We're so lucky, aren't we?"
Well done, Paul Grondahl!
I have to give credit to Pam Vetter for forwarding this story that's been circulating among funeral celebrants.
And I must confess that I too engaged in a form of censorship regarding this. I waited to post this item until after the Nov. 7 elections were over. I know, I know. Shame on me.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Censors for on-line obituary guest books
If you haven't read it -- fascinating New York Times story about people who vet the Legacy.com online obituary guest book before the posts are made public.
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