When the Sunday paper arrives, Joel grabs the funnies and I grab a section called “Insight” which includes commentaries, political endorsements, puzzles and “Life Tributes” (which, I guess, is a nicer way of saying “Obituaries”) I’m at the age where I do run into a name I recognize every now and then but more often I run into the names of people I wish I’d known.
For example, a writer by the N. Scott Momaday died last month. His name didn’t ring any bells and it should have. I mean, among his many honors he did win the Pulitzer Prize for his debut novel House Made of Dawn.
The title of this blog is from Momaday’s poem If I could ascend.
Something like a leaf lies here within me;/ it wavers almost not at all,/ and there is no light to see it by/ that it withers upon a black field./ If it could ascend the thousand years into my mouth,/I would make a word of it at last,/ and I would speak it into the silence of the sun.
And so I have another author to discover.
Besides Dr. Momaday, the world lost Simone whose “greatest legacy was the people she raised who are kind, caring and productive.” And the world lost Court Appointed Special Advocate, Artie, who was “quick witted and playful and adored children.” And Dolly whose “door was always open. Dolly’s kitchen was always open. Dolly’s heart was always open.” And Jim, whose “unconventional teaching tactics and personal touch inspired students to read with insight and write with purpose.” There are many more wonderful folks but I will end with Julio whose “generosity was boundless, helping all those that he met each day” and Lee who “loved to say he was swimming in a sea of friends and what a sea it was.” Ah, swimming in a sea of friends. Just that phrase tells you a lot about someone, doesn’t it?
Saying nothing in particular 
Hi Jan – thanks for bringing these tributes to life! I’ll be in the Bay area for two weeks starting tomorrow. 🙂
Well, we’re still in the same old place if you need a place to crash!
Hi Jan,
Well, your touching post reminded me of yesterday when I felt like dying. I was doing my taxes and I was trying to make heads or tales of the “compassion deduction” and so I went to the 1040 instruction booklet, and there was a full metaphorical description of how one could subtract $600 from Adjusted Gross Income for each act of compassion. Of course, there were many exceptions. It couldn’t be just any old act of compassion. Helping railroad workers, highway construction crews, and farmers operating large, high-maintenance machines were favored. Showing compassion to small birds, ocean currents, and birthday cakes for gay couples, was explicitly ruled out. Anyway, I think this comment, which is meant to be a compliment to you, might not really fit, but in the spirit of great and near-great people who have moved on through the obituary network, I’ll send it on nonetheless. Duke
The most depressing part of taxes is I know so many people who could afford to pay their fair share but they know the ins and outs and sometimes the right people and so they don’t and they brag about it. I hope you’ve got it all done and behind you … what a way to celebrate than to read obits!
Hi, Jan. If there’s anything I’ve come to realize in the last 20 years, it’s this: We can’t have too many friends, close ones especially. How fine it would be if everyone was “swimming in a sea of friends.”
I feel like I once was swimming in a sea of friends but that has changed so much over the years. Still … once upon a time!
Swimming in a sea of sorrow maybe…
Were there any “realistic” obits?
There are some obits that read like resumes and some that are quite short … I look for the ones that do seem real. Over the years I have read some very funny obits – generally written by the deceased before he or she died … well obviously before…
“Wha’cha doin’?”
“Writing my obituary.”
“Really? Hmm. An inflated, deprecating or realistic rendition of yourself?”
“Fictional.”
“I see. So, you’ll die like the person you’d always hoped to be?”
“It’ll be printed after all. My only legacy. Wouldn’t you want to read about an amazing life, fully lived, than this pathetic excuse of a life that I’ve got to offer?”
“Sure. So, how many heroic acts did you commit?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“I can’t wait to read it.”
/cough/ “Soon enough, soon enough.”
Ha! I haven’t read too many obits that specified the number of heroic deeds it took to earn a heroic deed doer legacy. Perhaps we need to collaborate on a How to Write Your Own Obit podcast or the YouTube TikTok thing. Then of course, can AI do it better?
Swimming in a sea of friends, that’s lovely.
Yes it is! I’m always amazed by the number of obits there are given how expensive it is to have them printed and how few people buy newspapers anymore. We have to get up really early on Sunday otherwise our paper disappears. People don’t want to subscribe but they want all the goodies in the Sunday paper.
It’s sad. Pretty soon real newspapers will be a thing of the past…
Hi Jan, I’ve never read the obituaries. I suppose people always distill the best of a purpose into words for a final farewell.
Purpose was meant to be person.
I’ve always been a very curious person. I can’t read a book or write in a coffee shop or library because I’m always imagining the lives of the people around me!
I am also very distracted by people.
Those are some pretty great obituaries, and I love that you still get a newspaper. I miss it. They are so darned expensive now, and we couldn’t get the company to deliver them at a reasonable hour. It would come at 2am, setting off the dog, or at 10am, when what I want is to read it with my breakfast. We have a couple of subscriptions to newspapers online, but it is definitely not the same thing.
I don’t have many friends left who still live here. They mostly live far away now, which makes me sad. I’m glad for cell phones with no extra charge for long distance!
Sorry to hear – we have a pretty good newspaper guy. Always delivers around 5:30 – I guess we’re lucky!
Call me a miserable old cynic, but every obituary seems to declaim how marvellous someone was (obviously, many of them were!). It’s strange we never read of someone who was ‘a misanthropic old git’…
Oh, it happens! But the newspapers charge a fortune to print them and who wants to spend a bunch of money to slam their rotten old uncle Dan!?
Oh, Uncle Dan. Now you’re talking. Wasn’t he just the worst?
You had one too? Well fancy that – small world!
“…the Pulitzer Prize for his debut novel House Made of Dawn?” I’ve never heard of this author nor his novel. I read newspapers digitally so I don’t stumble over obits like you do in a paper version. I might be missing something.
I hadn’t either and, in addition to the Insight section, I also read all the book reviews. Unfortunately prize winning books are not always best sellers.
Good for you taking the time to read obits. That may be someone’s only claim to fame, not that they get to enjoy it. Still, an obituary gives some meaning to the days of their life.
It’s become my Sunday morning ritual. Coffee with the recently departed! Sometimes obit writers will concentrate heavily on a person’s accomplishments which doesn’t really tell you what the person was like to be around.
You could write a book!
Thanks for the ping back Marcia! Jan
Have a great flight Jan.
Does it seem the obituary section is longer than ever? And among my personal connections, I’ve lost a number of friends and family members (it is the cousins that bother me the most). I keep thinking I’ll write a post on aging, then decide it is too glum!
Me too. Sometimes it feels strange to be still amongst the living. Like, hey, don’t I belong on the other side? Some things about aging are quite glum but it’s a time to make peace with who you are. And that can be liberating.
A wonderful heartfelt tribute post, Jan.
Dr. Momaday’s words are brilliant. Thank you for sharing that.
… and Yes, Jan, swimming in a sea of friends does say a lot about the person who said it.
To the souls you mentioned here today, to all, a good night!
Yes, I regret that I hadn’t heard of him before. Or I may have been never checked him out. So many books; so little time!
Yes, it’s true.