Paperwork: There’s much more than sadness to be found in obituaries

I spend a few moments each day with Earl and Opal.

They make me smile – and think. Like they did a couple of weeks ago.

Earl and Opal Pickles – retired in their 70s – were sitting together on a porch swing, both reading parts of the newspaper.

“There’s one. And there’s another,” Earl said.

“What are you talking about?” asked Opal.

“Oh, it’s just a little game I like to play when I read the paper,” he said.

Opal guessed, “Counting people on the obituary page who you’ve outlived?”

“Yup,” said Earl.

I smiled. Another Pickles comic strip hit home, as comic strips can do so well. (Kudos to artist Brian Crane.) I was forced to reflect on how I process obits.

Unlike Earl, however, I don’t want to see ages. They stand out as warning signs that the end of the road is coming. Although when I see an age, I do exactly what Earl did. There’s this little ugly flash of victory when I see I have outlived another.

I tend to focus only on the names. I don’t read one unless it’s someone I know. But part of me thinks that is sad ... and wrong. I blame these feelings in part on Mari Andrew, a New York artist, author and speaker.

She writes “Out of the Blue,” a weekly essay shared via substack.com.

“I make art and write essays from my own experiences, in an effort to help you feel a bit less alone,” she said.

I came across her essay on obits, which she embraces entirely.

“The best and longest habit I’ve ever had is reading the obituaries most mornings,” Andrew wrote and shared this quote from spiritual teacher Ram Dass: “We’re all just walking each other home.”

“If we are all on this journey together, then learning about my fellow pilgrims is my way of appreciating their time walking on earth with me, even if we never crossed paths,” she said.

“Reading obituaries also stirs my own aspirations and reinforces my values. ... What a profound thing that these ordinary strangers can inspire us through what others remember about them. Communing with their legacies can make us more alive.”

The lives of others can inspire and remind that we all row a somewhat different boat but we’re all floating in the same ocean.

“Obituaries remind me that living is an art and it is up to us to craft our own masterpieces,” she noted. And the simple pleasures and accomplishments of others can provide lessons for us all.

Andrew said it’s not the resume that she looks for in obits.

“‘Work harder on your obituary than your resume’ is something I call to mind often, a reminder that a list of accomplishments has little to do with how you make people feel and how they remember you. ... Tell the newspaper this is what I did with my life: enjoy it.”

Mari Andrew has given me a lot to think about. Now I’m thinking the most important thing I ever write might be my own obituary.

Plus it’s not too late to try harder to enjoy more of the life I will be writing about.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.