“It's foolproof - well, it's foolhardy, maybe, but who knows?”
It is a pro and con that I get to read almost everything in the newspaper. As a copyeditor, there are very few sections of the paper I haven’t read in some form (be it reading press releases, editing drafts or looking over proofs). How many people can say they get paid to peruse the comics and Dear Abby?
Of course, there are some sections I don’t forward to reading. One of the rougher things I have to do on a regular basis is edit obituaries.
It’s typically a sobering task to work on the final appearance most people will make in the newspapers. It can be rough to see some people only rate a few lines or see how someone died “before their (expected) time.”
In addition to the morose tone, one has a lot of pressure to get all the information right. Messing up an obit is about the worst thing you can do in a newspaper. It’s worse than accidentally leaving in a sarcastic story lead like “And in other Middle East violence” or transposing the letters U.S. Senate candidate Hilter’s last name in a headline such as “Hitler comes to town, kisses babies.”
Okay, it may not be as bad as the last example (for with all the clippings your co-workers will collect of your mistakes -- not to mention copies made by competing papers -- you would have to leave the time zone to escape that mistake), but on a personal level it is close.
Some of the most cutting comments I’ve heard are in regards to perceived wrongs in the obituaries. It may not matter that the funeral home gave us incorrect information or that three people interpreting a handwritten eulogy had trouble with the sloppy cursive handwriting. In most cases the bereaved see the incorrect final product and call those who touched it last, the newspaper staff.
In working with obituaries for nearly five years, the most striking feedback I ever heard on the subject was the general observation: “You have no respect for the dead.”
I didn’t hear this comment directly, though I had talked with the person who would ultimately make this declaration. The verve and venom contained in this quote got me thinking about the general setup of the obituary.
After some time I came to the conclusion that the person was right, though probably not for the editorial concerns she voiced.
We don’t respect the dead because obituaries are for the living. They are to help people remember and help the grieving in the reflecting process, but they don’t directly impact the dead.
Anything you have to say about those who are deceased – good or bad – doesn’t impact them. Those who are left behind may take offense “on their behalf,” which is really their behalf, but it doesn’t touch those who have already died.
In my “death notice,” or whatever you want to call it, insinuate that I frequently engaged in “improper” acts with sheep. I won’t care, though I’d like to think a number of people will be around to call the libeler on it.
To make sure no one has to “speak on my behalf” in the future, outside of the whole pig debacle, let me give some personal guidelines for the way I would want my obituary to read.
Note: I’m not expecting an imminent departure or what not; I just want this stuff on record somewhere. I’ve voiced some of these opinions to my parents, but as any lawyer will tell you, it doesn’t hurt to have multiple copies of these things lying around.
Number one, and most important, if you want to have an untouched, unedited obituary appear in the newspaper, take out an advertisement. That way the words will appear exactly how you approve them.
Most newspaper style guides have you cut out stuff like “dearly beloved” or “he was noted for being a friend to all he met.” Not only are these wordy and clunky, but they aren’t necessarily true. I’ve certainly made enemies along the way – not always on purpose, but some people have at times despised my guts.
Unless you want to pay the extra money to have these questionable statements remain, and I’d say it’s not worth the investment, trim them out and save some copyeditor the trouble of doing the same. Stick to straight-forward, declarative statements that aren’t subjective.
Two, say I died. If I go, I won’t “pass away” or “enter in my eternal reward.” These are unnecessary phrases used to take the sting out of death. Be honest and say I died. I understand if when relaying the messages vocally some tact is employed to cushion the blow (you don’t say, “Madam, I’m sorry but Monsieur Smith snuffed it this afternoon,”) but that is not necessary in print.
The one exception I would allow would be the phrase “kicked the bucket.” This is so obviously a dodge that I wouldn’t mind my name appearing before it.
Three, feel free to trim my biography. Please don’t include every job and accolade earned. I don’t want to be remembered for my Wal-Mart work. I did well in college, but don’t include my GPA or academic honors. Hit the highlights. I would like to think they’re obvious.
If I ever do something really noteworthy like stop a burning fuel truck or rescue my family from the remains of a destroyed sinking battleship, throw that in, but otherwise, employ some brevity.
Four, about my hobbies, you can skip them. The fact I liked hiking or writing or collecting pink flamingos isn’t really noteworthy in my opinion. Only include references to them in other areas like great accomplishments (if I ever get a Pulitzer, then you can mention my writing). Otherwise, you can let them slide.
Five, concerning survivors, I get torn here. While I don’t want a list of like 50 relations, because I doubt I was very close to that many people, I understand why so many names are included. People are touched with a relative dies, albeit to varying degrees, and others like to know if their neighbor lost an uncle or grandfather. To my survivors, I say feel free to tack on as many names as you wish, just don’t go overboard with the extra information. Don’t list the geographical locations of my cousins, or the spouses of any nieces of nephews. As is the general rule, use common sense and economy of space.
And one exception to the previously stated rule, include my pets. They should be at the end of the list (though I do enjoy the irony of the hierarchy being “parents, cat, sister,” that’s pushing the deal too far), but I think they deserve to be there. That’s just me, of course.
Six, about the services, I am willing to get survivors latitude in this area as well. Shoot my ashes out of a cannon, donate my body to science, do the standard suit and box special, I don’t care. To return to my original point, obituaries, eulogies, funerals – these are all out of respect to the living and the memories they carry.
I don’t like the idea of pre-med students carving up my corpse and/or sending parts of me to friends as part of Halloween pranks, but hey, it’s not like I’ll be around. Let them make jokes about the condition of the body I left behind; I’ll have other things to be focusing on.
This post may be macabre, but it’s something I’m forced to face almost everyday. I mean this list of wishes as a reminder of people to have a sense of humor concerning death and to remember the seriousness of the matter as well. Since obituaries are for the living, don’t save all the good lines for after people have “gone to worm town” (another acceptable phase in lieu of “kicked the bucket.”) Say those things now, while people can still be touched by them.
It’s not easy, but it beats the alternative. I would wish you all a bright day, but since you just got done reading this prolonged post about death and legacy, I will instead wish you a fun time reflecting upon your own mortality.
Memento mori: Remember you will die.
Toodles.
said...
Caleb,
I enjoyed your comments, but have to admit, I liked the previous blog better. And can I borrow your shoes sometime?
Mom
Caleb Michael said...
If we can share a red bridesmaid dress, we can certainly share red shoes.