Obituaries, you gotta love them.
My mother used to call them the Irish Sports Pages. Others have called them the Irish Comics or the Irish Racing Form.
What is it with the Irish and death notices? Mom explained that before TV they were a way to plan your social activities for the week. You could research where to meet your friends and neighbors based on who was laid out at which funeral home on what evenings. She remembered attending wakes on the southside of Chicago as a child in the 1920’s and 1930’s. Her parents would scrub their four daughters and dress them up. Mom said that at a wake she would be greeted as follows: “‘Tis Emmet’s girl, Peg, is it? It can’t be. Wasn’t it last spring she was at Maggie Doherty’s wake? How awful she’s grown.”
I attended my first wake in 1963 at the age of eight. The main attraction was my great grandmother, Maggie Murnane, nee Martin. Maggie was 96 when she decided enough was enough. She was born on a farm in Galbally, Ireland in 1867, two years after John Wilkes Booth shot Lincoln. She only had eleven siblings. In 1889, Maggie came to America with her brother, Billy, to work in a Chicago factory that made quilts. She was twenty- two and single.
She had a classic Southside Irish wake. I did not know much about death or wakes in 1963. I did notice that the mood in the room formed a continuum, from grief to not so much grief. At the front, near the coffin, things were quiet and somber; people exchanged condolences and said the rosary. As the distance from the coffin grew the mood changed. Rows 3 through 6 housed cordial conversations about the deceased and a smattering of people subtly catching up on the latest news about the family or neighborhood. Rows 7 through 9 had a more positive vibe. Back there Maggie was not really mentioned. Here sat mostly respectful men and women talking about politics and sports.
Everyone beyond row 9 had a glow about them, and the rules changed. I did not know that drinking had anything to do with that glow. My parents planted me in this crowd and told me to stay there, probably thinking this is where I could do the least damage. These guys smelled of White Owl Cigars, Old Spice aftershave, and booze. Their noses were bulbous veiny things planted between a pair of ruby red cheeks. Most had wispy red/grey hair, although a few had thick forests of dark hair; I later learned they were called “Black Irish”. They were not generally close to Maggie. They knew someone who knew someone who kind of knew one of her children. One old guy asked me if I was John and Peg’s son. He told me about a Ford Model A my father sold him after the war. It was apparently a good car, at least memorable. I saw deeper into the gene pool when I met my mother’s cousin Micky Murnane (what a great name). He was as bald as could be with a forehead so large you could lease it to display cigarette ads. Men, young and old, traded jokes, jibes, and stories. It was a good time, but nobody commented about how awful I had grown.
Unfortunately, that was my last wake for the next twenty years. I must have screwed up and never got invited back.
Back to obituaries. These are the last summaries of your life. They include everything good about you. My brother Pete passed away in December of 2016 and since he’s dead I can swipe some lines from his obituary which he wrote. If you can’t steal from your dead older brother, who can you rip off?
Regarding his career, he said:
“Please don’t tell my mother I am in advertising because she thinks I am in prison.”
He mentioned a couple of his regrets:
“I would have done yoga and eaten more Nutter Butters.”
Pete and I found that obituaries lack key details. Who was this person really? Died on Blah date, Born on Blah date, Parents blah and blah, education blah, spouse blah, kids blah, interests blah and blah. Wake at Blah and Sons. Obituaries need footnotes that give the details behind the blah. Here’s an example [note: footnotes are in brackets]:
Anna-May Haversham
On Friday December 14th Anna-May Haversham, 81, fell asleep in the loving arms of her family and awoke in the arms of the Lord [Hopefully].
She was born December 19, 1936 in Wedlock, Wisconsin, the daughter of Edward F. and Mabel A. (Stone) Haskil [Despite what everyone said, Ed and Mabel were second cousins and not first cousins]. Anna-May initially attended Pleasant Grove Grade School [The Pleasant Grove School burned to the ground under mysterious circumstances that only Anna-May completely understood.] She graduated from Homersville High School in 1955 [She graduated with a robust 0.9 GPA. Thank God they graded on a curve. Hopefully, Saint Peter also grades on a curve].
On June 17, 1955 Anna-May was united in marriage to Howie W. Haversham [Because her parents said she had to, given the circumstances.] They wed at Saint Joseph the Carpenter Church where she remained a lifelong member [Almost – more on this later].
She worked as a housekeeper at various Wewak County resorts – Willow Bog Lodge, The Maxwell House, Fragrant Shores Cabins, and Swampside Resort [Apparently, she could not keep a job], all while helping on the farm and taking care of her family.
Her love will live on in the hearts of her husband, Howie, with whom she was blessed with over 63 years of marriage [She allegedly had affairs in 1957, 1963, and 2015. She was literally a sucker for a man in uniform, including the milkman, the mailman and the policeman. You go, girl.]. She and Howie [they say] had three daughters, April (Larry) Johnson, May (Larry) Peterson, and June (Larry) Olson [That’s right, they all married guys named Larry]. She was blessed with three grandchildren, Larry Johnson Jr., Larry Peterson Jr., Larrietta Olson.
Anna-May was an avid card player [and a habitual cheater, fleecing family, friends and strangers alike]. Every summer Anna-May maintained a large and productive garden [The local high school stoners loved her potent cross breeds.]. She was devoted to baking and made the most popular brownies [which featured a special additive compliments of her garden]. She enjoyed needlepoint [Anna-May was famous for her cross-stitch rendition of the entire Kama Sutra in a set of holiday napkins]. Above all, she loved her family and spending time with her grandchildren [Although she had a hard time remembering their names].
Anna-May’s parents, sister Barbie (Niles) Mattel and brother Joseph (Betty-Joe) proceeded her in death. [Along with the 101 billion humans that lived and died since the first people climbed down from the trees.].
A funeral service will be held at 11:00 a.m. on Monday at Mary Queen of Scots Church [She was formerly affiliated with Saint Joseph the Carpenter parish but had to move on after attempting to sell her holiday napkins at St. Joe’s 2015 Christmas Craft Bazaar.] Burial will follow in the Holy Ghost Cemetery [She will be laid to rest with the ashes of her pet iguana, Larry].
That’s Anna-May’s annotated obituary. Hopefully you know a little more about the dearly departed.
I sometimes wonder what Maggie Murnane’s annotated obituary would reveal about that long life.
At times, I worry about what my annotated obituary would say about my life, probably something about how awful I’d grown and that I stole from my brother, Pete.