I’ve been digging through my archives, which means opening the bench thing in the living room and hauling out all my old columns. Hard copies. 9 and a half years worth. Two per week. We can barely move the bench. Anyway. I’ve trying to put them together for a couple of ‘best of’ books (comment now, or forever hold your peace), but I also keep things I clip just because. And I’d nearly forgotten about Margaret. I love this obituary so much. So, so much. So much I kept it, and now will share with you. I know, I know, it’s long. but read every word. It took someone – I’m guessing Margaret (I’m not guessing; it was Margaret) a loooooong time to write this. It is spectacular. I debated blacking out names, but it was published in the Spectator, and frankly, it’s too awesome to muck with. Click on it to make it readable; I had to smunch it down to get it to load.
That was a lovely piece, and Margaret has inspired me to write my own obituary. It goes something like this:
Jane Dunham passed away unexpectedly at home, while trying to cough up a giant cat-hair ball that had become lodged in her esophagus. She will dearly missed by Larry, Mrs. Bingleman, Anomaly, and Nano, until someone else shows up to feed them. She will then be erased from their tiny feline memory banks.
Jane’s three sons, Mike, Mark, and David, were last seen manoeuvring a Dumpster up to her house in preparation for throwing out the many “shabby-chic” treasures and ersatz antiques that Jane accumulated over her lifetime.
There will be no service, as the family has purchased The Hefty Bag Farewell Package from The Ronald McDonald Funeral Home in beautiful downtown Dunnville.
Donations can be directed to The Funny Farm Addictions Recovery Institute (I am not making this up! It’s a real place!)
My Mom and Dad were living up near Erin when my Dad passed away in 1995. He was still sitting in his chair, at his desk, when my Mom returned from a meeting the evening of January 3. These folks were the only Funeral Home in Erin at the time and when the coroner showed up his first question was “Have the Butchers been called yet?” Had my Mom not been in shock I’m fairly certain she would have either punched the guy out, or laughed hysterically.
I hate to think what my obit would say. If it’s true that if you don’t have anything nice to say, then you shouldn’t say anything at all, then I would suggest that if left to those who know me best, there would simply be a blank page.
There may be something to this whole self-written obituary after all.
We would all have something nice to say about you – especially how your little pictures make us laugh. Your page would not be totally blank.
jmd… I kid. There are times I feel worthy of a line or two, other times, I feel more like New Jersey. It’s a bit of a dump.
But like the kid in the red shorts, if you’ve been given a dump then you just have to play in a dump. The trick is keeping the blue side up, and enjoying what you have.
This is a masterpiece, Jane. Make sure your boys have a copy, and proper instructions.
I’ve said for years I want to get together with friends once a year to write our own obituaries. I always thought it would be funny and a good way to realize we weren’t accomplishing anything and should probably get a move on. For some reason, nobody will take me up on it.
I will absolutely write my own. I will always get the last word, somehow….
St. Peter: “Welcome to Heaven, pleasure to meet you Margaret.”
Margaret: “Charmed, I’m sure.”
If she wasn’t dead, I may have had to have her killed.
I may be forced to write my own obit, just to make sure the rough bits get edited out…
Did anyone else see the word “Book” in the blog text?
Or am I hallucinating?
Here, DJW, borrow my special rose colored reading glasses. You misunderestimate the power of Ms Sommerfeld. She actually said (or typed, anyway) “bookS.” As in “more than one.”
I’m hoping for an honourable mention. (**smiley face**)
Ahhh I see it now.
ooooh pretty colours.
I may keep these….
Relax, gentlemen. I’m only thinking of compiling Motherlodes, at this point. I am working on something else, totally not related, but I figure, hell, those columns are already writ’…..
Ah, some self plagiarization in the works.
Which is why John Fogerty will never write an auto biography.