Opposition in All Things (2 Nephi 2:
11)
Most
obituaries are paid for by the inch and number of photos.
Some very private persons might not like to have a lot said,
and their desires must be honored. From my point of view,
I’d rather put my money into print than flowers. I would
give my last piece of chocolate to find obits about my ancestors
that are filled with rich, lengthy accounts about their
lives. I want to know it all – about their families, travels
and settling – anything at all about their religious and
recreational interests. I am especially motivated and inspired
to learn about trials they might have overcome, if someone
has the insight to include some of that, along with the
usual glorified accounts about their achievements.
I
read an obituary last week that was no doubt for real, but
that woman sounded so perfect, I felt discouraged, just
reading about her. Chalk it up to my insecure nature, but
I do believe the most delightful thing I ever heard about
my forever-sainted great-great Mormon pioneer ancestor
was that she smoked a corncob pipe all her way, crossing
the plains. For all I know, the account isn’t even true,
but that little detail endeared her to me as a finally
real human being!
More
lengthy accounts can be included in our personal and family
histories. But let’s face it – those usually end up on somebody’s
shelf, not in the public domain, where one of hundreds of
descendants might look to find it. So though we must first
make sure all those basic, important dates, names, and relationships
are included, I always look for some detail that helps me
sense the decedent’s personhood. (And next time, let’s order
extra copies of that family history from the printer to
donate to the Family History Library, Library of Congress,
and other archives and repositories.)
I
read the obit
of Masao Watabe in the Deseret Morning News last
week, and so enjoyed meeting him the first time, by reading
the account about his conversion to the Church and where
that led him and his family. He was another super-achiever,
but I found the way his rich life was presented more inspiring
than intimidating. Following what was shared about his life
path made me wish I could sit down and talk with this good
man.
Tap Earlier Accounts
How
can we be objective, writing about a loved one, while deeply
grieving? Here’s another good reason to write about our
parents while they are comparatively young and well.
My
mother once surprised me by showing up on a day I knew she
had important conflicts, to hear a talk I gave about “Womanhood
in Changing Seasons” at a BYU-Relief Society women’s conference.
She was so fascinated with what I had to say, she went
to sleep during part of it. I do say she perked up a
bit when I started talking about her and then asked her
to stand up, so all could see this woman I am blessed to
call “Mother.”
My
presentation was later published, [i] and though written from the perspective of a somewhat
homesick daughter, having just come home from life in New
York, I did mention some of Mom’s interests and achievements
that impressed me back then, in 1994 – aspects that I might
have forgotten by now, some dozen years later.
I
also suggested in that talk that my mother no doubt had
trials, but that as I grew up, I chose to overlook them,
seeing each year of their lives as more prosperous and more
reflective of the kind of life I hoped to live.
Now,
however, as I look back on Mom’s life, the way she overcame
trials shines even more brightly than the good times she
helped create. It taught and inspired me to watch her grapple
with everyday problems, along with what she, with much frustration,
viewed as her worst fault. I of course will only hint at
some of this in her obit, but I do hope those reading it
will see a real person, behind my highlight of her virtues.
At
this point, in this column, I listed some of the trials
I saw Mom so admirably tackle. However, Mom seldom dwelled
on her pains or rehashed the past, so neither shall I. I
have lifted that long list to my private PAF notes for her.
I will say that compiling some of her disappointments burnished
her accomplishments as even more dear to my memory. I feel
certain that, in looking back, all of us will someday thank
God for those trials that strengthened and shaped us.
When
I was a young mother, living in Illinois, and too broke to send Mom flowers, I wrote her a poem,
instead. You will quickly see that I should stick with column
writing. Reviewing my thoughts then, however, did remind
me now about some of Mom’s qualities that have endured,
as gifts to us, her children, through the years:
MY
MOTHER
(I
always have such a hard time choosing flowers for her):
Pansies
wilt too simply,
Pinks with time turn pale,
Daffodils expire so soon,
Petunias look quite frail.
Lilies
of the Valley do
Seem delicate and pure,
But hide amid the shadows
Weeping dewdrops – too demure!
Cacti
are so prickly,
Violets verily shrink.
Snap dragons are snippity,
And marigolds do stink!
Orchids
are exquisite –
More exotic,
if you please.
Mom grows them by the hundreds, though.
Besides, I hear they freeze!
Roses
are appropriate:
Elegant, yet sweet,
Symbolic of true womanhood
–
Firm, yet soft – elite.
Others,
though, give roses
To their mothers any week.
Roses are too common.
Meine Mutter ist unique!
Carnations
are enduring,
Fragrant and discreet –
So prevalent
at funerals, though.
Can no flower compete
To
match her strength and vigor,
Warmth, wit, tenacity,
Thrift, industry, raw courage,
Love, and practicality . . .
Common
sense stability,
Creative love of living,
Truth exempling, serving sainthood,
Unheralded neighboring?
Is
no flower, then, quite worthy
Of a place in Mother’s sun?
The Sego Lily might come close:
Only God can grow one.
I
would like to pass a law
Protecting Mother’s diadem.
No foot would tread her bright, white bloom,
Nor bruise her striving stem.
And
should, with time, her Gardener
Look down and find it moot
To gather her to His bouquet,
She yet would leave us root.
Ida-Rose
Langford Hall, b. 20 Feb 1921, in 1980
Show some spirit!
Having
compiled the qualities you wish to highlight, do put some
thought into their presentation. It saddens me to read an
obit that sounds like a filled-out form sprinkled with weak
punctuation. Every person is a child of God, so a spark
of that divinity can warm each published life account. I
like to find a biographical sketch that tells about our
subject’s personality – that shows the writer has worn numbers
off keys, selecting better words to describe a loved one’s
nature and reflect the family’s caring.
It
also helps if the writer taps other family members to get
their insights and suggestions. After starting this column,
I finally got courage to start on Mom’s obit and sent an
early draft to my children, as I can trust them to provide
candid responses. I also forwarded it to my brother-in-law,
Barry Wood, and my brother’s “wife emeritus,” as we like
to call her, Betsy Huntington Hall, both of whose opinions,
writing, and editing I greatly respect.
I
also enlisted a review from BYU’s retired professor Don
Norton, whose classes on writing family history my parents
and I enjoyed taking more than once. He also graciously
gave a look-see and caught some kinks, though I confess
we kept cutting and revising, so he is not accountable for
my sins, added since. We do hold Brother Norton
responsible for the priceless collection of short life episodes
my parents wrote regularly for his classes, inspired as
we were by his motivating instruction and blessed by his
invaluable editing and suggestions.
All
this input, through many drafts, greatly blessed my effort,
though I learned that even with all the revising, I can’t
hope to please all. Especially when mourning a loved one,
feelings run deep. What one person loves best, another wants
deleted. At times, through this process, I felt like Goldilocks:
one thought my tone too warm – another, too cold. I doubt
I got it “just right” for anyone in our strong-minded family.
There’s
nothing like a funeral to bring out sibling rivalries and
coalitions. There’s also nothing like a well-planned funeral
to bond siblings more closely together and bring healing,
after we’ve inflicted and suffered our bruises. Though reactions
to what you write will be as varied as its readers, each
will help balance your perspective and contribute to the
end result. So take a deep breath and involve the rest
of the family, after you’ve shaped what you thought was
your final draft. While staying open to all opinions, remember
that you are the one asked to write this obituary. Don’t
be afraid to finally assert yourself and stop the bucks
at your desk.
H.
Tracy and Ida-Rose L. Hall family gathers for Mom and Dad’s
60th wedding Anniversary, September, 2001. Front L-R: Dan
& Sherlene Bartholomew, Ida-Rose L. and H. Tracy Hall\,
Helen & H. Tracy Hall, Jr.; Back L-R: Nancy & Doug
Mecham, Marty & Elizabeth Neil; Karen & David Hall;
Barry & Virginia Wood, Bryan & Charlotte Weight.
I
must admit that along the way, writing to honor Mom, I developed
more and more empathy for the one mentioned earlier, who
wrote about that overwhelmingly Super Mother I decided,
ultimately, that living life, trials and all, is
a supernal achievement that can be celebrated without apology.
Relative Matter
Now
comes that end part of the obit all large LDS families dread
assembling. Despite my obsession for wanting to include
every genealogical detail, I decided that it was not practical
to name all thirty-five grandchildren and twenty-eight great-grandchildren.
Though it breaks my heart when I find an ancestor’s obit,
and it does not name all those numbered descendants, I admit
that in this digital age, those names are not as likely
to be lost. We can post all that information on the ‘net
from our home computer database and submit it to the Pedigree
Resource File (while of course protecting privacy rights
of the still-living).
Barry,
himself an avid genealogist, also convinced me that for
these same reasons, I need not list full names of all surviving
relatives – just those they are called by on a daily basis.
(It is best to use the formal name, however, i.e., Elizabeth,
instead of “Betsy.”) Likewise, and also for reasons of
privacy, maiden names of living female spouses can be omitted.
One
fact newspaper editors like to include is the town in which
surviving relatives live, so readers in those places can
identify them as neighbors and offer their condolences.
In a huge family like ours, it took the better part of a
couple of days to make needed calls all over the country,
trying to update contact information – not only for Mom’s
obit, but also for our use as a family, keeping our relatives
advised about her progress towards what their bishop called
her “graduation.”
I
enjoyed this excuse to call aunts, uncles, and cousins,
getting updates on their lives to share with all the family.
I invited all I called to ask their branch of the family
for short bios, updating us on their lives, so we as a family
can know each other better, as we come together from distant
places to comfort each other and honor Mom. I am so glad
I got a head start on this process, because when my mother
died on Monday, March 7, I had no idea how involved funeral
preparations can be, nor how grieving slows us down. How
grateful I am for my mother’s foresight, assigning each
of us early to various stewardships in the saying of our
last goodbyes.
Cut, clip!
I
like the trend to use two photos of the deceased, especially
if she lived a long life. However, if you order two views,
sometimes they are reduced so much, one larger print might
have been better. If you want both photos to be the same
size one would have been, be sure to specify that and get
a cost estimate to forestall unwelcome surprises.
Length
alone was quite an issue, as several in our family, for
good reason, prefer short, factual obits. I have too much
of the genealogist and writer in me. Believe it or not,
I did cut what I thought was my final copy in half, especially
after I saw how much of the obit length involved listing
Mom’s survivors. I thought it was important to list survivors
in Dad’s family, as well, though this also added to the
length. My final obit is longer than most, as I wanted
to reveal about Mom’s identity what I so wanted to see in
obits of my ancestors. I did learn, however, that we pay
well for this privilege. When I learned the cost to run
Mom’s obit for only one day (prices usually decline for
subsequent runs), I got more conservative in a hurry. It
hurt to cut some of my favorite parts, after all that work.
I suggest calling the news desk ahead of time, so you know
what each word is worth before it gets on your page in the
first place. There’s no such thing, these days, as adding
only your two cents.
Still,
if the choice is between gold-plated coffin handles and
having a slightly longer obit and an extra photo, my vote
goes with what stays above ground.
Move over, Murph!
I
was proud of myself for getting the obit to the mortuary
right on time, by twelve noon, the day before I wanted it
published. I had gone over and over it, though I had worked
on so many versions, it was starting to swim in layers before
me. I even had it formatted in columns to match what I saw
in the newspapers (not helpful, I later learned). I thought
my copy had to be an obit desk editor’s dream. With a little
luck that piece would fly off their desk and practically
print itself!
Little
did I guess that I would spend the next 3.5 hours on the
phone, talking with editors who were not familiar with the
fabulous editing program Barry introduced me to when he
returned my copy showing his suggested changes. This MS
Word “Track Changes” program draws colored lines from each
change to a box at the right that details the edits. That’s
great when viewing someone else’s edits, but I could not
figure out how to remove the edit marks when I felt ready
to send clean copy. In frustration, I turned it over to
my man Dan, who was also new to this program. While my
back was turned, he must have pushed some lever deep inside
the computer to make it look “clean.” Then he took off
for work.
‘Trouble
is, it only looked clean at my end. Something happened,
in transfer to the mortuary that got even worse when they
tried to submit it to the newspapers. Suddenly I got calls
saying that the mortuary’s sends were corrupted, so they
had to have pure copy, straight from my machine. Even with
my direct sends, the copy still arrived showing all those
editing lines and boxes.
Dan
coached me over the phone, while we tried transferring copy
in language news desks could decipher. Murphy, however,
prevailed, time and time again. Finally, only a half hour
before four, when copy had to fly to reach the morning papers,
one editor thought to have me cut and paste the obit from
my word processing program to the text-space of an e-mail
message to them. I told the other editor about the idea
and copied the result to both, in the same exchange. Voila!
Finally, it worked—barely in time!
[Barry
has since told us that the way to get rid of all the prior
edit markings is to hit the “accept change” icon to the
right of the “final with markup” etc. box on the top of
a MS Word 2003 or 2004 screen. Then, after “accepting”
the changes, you save it again.]
Of
course I had other important plans for that afternoon. Having
read this, you will know better than to plan anything the
rest of the day, after your obit copy is due. Send Murphy
out to lunch, while you man the phones. Maybe then you’ll
get some lunch, too!
Finally, store it right!
When
you clip an obit, try to remember to attach the paper’s
headline, date, and page information before storing it in
an album. Remember that news paper is acidic and will quickly
discolor and decay. It is best to make a photocopy of that
clipping on acid-free paper, before storing it in archival
sheet protectors.
Welcome surprise
Writing
an obituary may seem daunting at first, but as with all
hard tasks, this opportunity can be a meaningful learning
and growth experience. Writing is a useful exercise that
helps sort thoughts and feelings, for better focus. Sometimes
when I struggle for the right words, trying to write about
an ancestor or loved one, I experience a flash of insight
and sense that the Spirit is teaching me. Perhaps some
of that will reflect in my writing and influence subsequent
generations, as well.
When
I finally opened our morning papers to see my obit printed,
I was unprepared for the outpouring of the Spirit that I
felt as I reviewed what I, with gracious aid of so many,
wrote about my mother. This reassurance helped me know
that love for a mother communicates through the Word,
not by my word. Understanding is a gift from God that opens
between what is on the printed page and sensitive readers.
It is our honor and blessing to be a humble part of that
sweet experience.
Here
is the link to Mom’s
obit, as posted by the Deseret Morning News.
Now you can see if I followed my own advice or should have
listened to yours. I do hope that along the way, reading
this, you found ideas that will someday help you chronicle
a loved one’s life, well lived.
