Have you written your obituary? That may sound like a strange question to ask because most of us don’t want to get too close to death in case it’s contagious. But not everyone. Even though she was still active and engaged, Lucille Torgerson wrote her obituary as a gift to her children so it wouldn’t be another responsibility they would have to take care of at her passing.
Recently, I read about Kelly McMasters who takes it a step further. In her opinion piece for The New York Times, “Why I Write My Own Obituary Every Year,” she shares how she started writing her obituary each year at the age of 12. Her mother began volunteering at the local hospice, and in preparation for working with terminally ill patients, her mother was given the assignment to write her obituary. At dinner, they discussed the assignment and when she went to bed that night, she wrote her own obituary.
You might think writing your obituary every year is odd, too emotional, even macabre. But as New York Times reporter Margalit Fox said in the documentary Obit, “Obituaries have next to nothing to do with death and absolutely everything to do with life.”
For most years, Kelly found that writing her obituary brought a sense of comfort. It wasn’t just a summary of those noteworthy life events typically found in an obituary but a more personal expression of her life. She writes, “Writing your obituary while you’re still alive can offer clarity about your life and, mercifully, if you find something lacking, you still have time to revise.”
Each year she wrote her obituary, the mood and scope changed. Some years her obituary was short and to the point; others were full of joy and hope. And then there were those years when her obituaries reflected her disappointments and life disruptions.
Some years when her motivation was low, she would even write an aspirational obituary. It could be what you have on your bucket list or just wishful imaginations. Maybe winning the lottery and giving a large bequest to the Sunshine Club in Hood River? Winning the Newbury Medal for your children’s book, “You Know What? The Story of a Lonesome Boy Named What”? Or your trip around the world in 80 days following the footsteps of David Niven and Shirley MacLaine.
Death is generally not a topic you want to discuss at social gatherings or around the dinner table with your family. But from her mother’s obituary exercise, Kelly McMasters learned the practice and value of holding death close so she can remember to live.
So, what would you write in your obituary?
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Brain Tease. These random phrases hide the names of eight capital cities around the world. Each phrase contains the name of two cities. See if you can unscramble them and find the eight cities.
Lion Job Ending; Took My Ore; Crimson Elbow; Rapid Disarm
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During the ‘50s and ‘60s, there were common rules for eating at the dinner table: finish everything on your plate, chew with your mouth closed, wait for everyone to finish, no talking with food in your mouth, and ask to be excused.
For this “Week’s Remember When” question, according to dinner table rules, what were you never supposed to put on the dinner table? E-mail your answer to mcseniorcenter@gmail.com, call 541-296-4788, or send it with a box of curve-shaped macaroni.
The name of the 1964 song based on a game Shirley Ellis played as a child, where she would make a rhyme out of anybody’s name was the “The Name Game”. I received correct answers from Judy Kiser, Marny Weting, Dave Lutgens, Donna Mollet, Kathy Smith, Lana Tepfer, Doug Nelson, Kim Birge, and Shelley Hinatsu — this week’s winner of a quilt raffle ticket.
And last week, I was fishing with Andy and Opie Taylor, so I missed Pat Evenson-Brady, Marny Weting, Steven Woolpert, Nancy Higgins, and Keith and Marlene Clymer.
Again this year, I will enter the 50-plus “Remember When” winners in the Mid-Columbia Senior Center’s Quilt Raffle, which will be held at the center’s Cherry Festival Breakfast on April 26. I have a feeling — although it could just be my arthritis — that this is the year a “Remember When” entry will win a beautiful quilt.
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Well, it’s been another week, waiting to see a flock of baby quail parading single-file behind their mother, wearing festive hats and carrying streamers. Until we meet again, don’t worry. It will never happen — until it happens.
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“It can often seem that those in power don’t want us to enjoy making things ourselves – they’d prefer to establish a cultural hierarchy that devalues our amateur efforts and encourages consumption rather than creation.”
— David Byrne
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