Death, DIY

"In setting my earthly house in order I find it of moment that I should attend in person to one or two matters which men in my position have long had the habit of leaving to others, with consequences often regrettable. I wish to speak of only one of these matters at this time: Obituaries."                                            -- Mark Twain.

Helping people write their own obituaries was a brainstorm that came to me a few years ago, when my former best friend died and no one had much to say at his funeral. My pal had been brilliant, creative and eloquent, as well as never shy about self-promotion, and a self-crafted obit would have been right down his alley. As it was, his family/friends could barely muster the resources to run even a small notice of his death in the paper.

Look what Grandma did!

It is just such cruel happenstances of fate that we can take arms against, with an “auto-obituary.” Why leave it to someone else to sum up your life, even a loved one? Or particularly a loved one, who may be prostrate with grief, preoccupied with other details of your final disposition, or otherwise without the wherewithal to give you a proper written send-off?

To paraphrase Big Daddy in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” most people don’t get in the newspaper until they die. When they do, it’s often, well, disappointing. One or two lines about the deceased, who more than likely "never met a stranger," and the rest of the space given over to a listing of the survivors. Composing your own obituary just might reassure you that you’ll escape a fate worse than death: Irrelevance.

Since death can come at any time, it’s never too early to start working on your obit. (You can always update it, like your resume.) Here's where I come in. 

Over the past fifteen years or so, I've written hundreds of personal profiles for newspapers. I've learned to be economical with my words, and to make them all count. My approach has been based on the old saw, "Brevity is the soul of wit," and my own corollary: Wit is the spice of brevity.  Here are some samples:  Profiles.  

I charge $50 an hour to help you compose your last words, so an obituary or memorial tribute will generally cost you $200 to $350, even less if you're the shy and retiring type. But maybe your life has been so fascinating that you'll want to write a book about it, with my help. The price would be negotiable, depending on the details. (And keep in mind that I'm experienced in writing fiction, also.) Here's a book I've done:
Biography.     

It's your life--why not have the last word?

Contact me at 615.516.5678 or paulerland@gmail.com. 

Leave 'em laughing

Recently I received in the mail two separate letters about pre-planning for my demise. Is the Grim Reaper lurking outside my house, or is it simply my demographic profile?

What are you waiting for, chump?

You’re sixty-four. High time to face facts: Unless you take the bull by the horns, you can’t afford to die.  

The tone of both letters was solicitous but implicitly scolding: Of course you don’t want to think about death, you schmuck, but do you really want to compromise your family?

“Dear Friend,” began the first letter. (“Friend” is appropriate, I assume, given that we’re all in the same boat, the one bound for oblivion.) “We need your help…In order to assist with sensitive, caring and professional help when people are in need, we need to know the real thoughts and feelings of individuals just like you.” Individuals just like me, meaning those who will die some day?

To better to plumb my real thoughts and feelings, they put together a survey, simple (all Yes or No or multiple-choice answers) and to-the-point:

“If you have given thought to this subject, which of the following would you choose for yourself?  Burial, or Cremation.” (And if you haven’t given thought to it, start now, ya big ox!)

“How important to you personally is the location (proximity) of a cemetery?” About as important, I’d say, as the location of a lunatic asylum: Not in my neighborhood. In truth, the location won’t concern me if I’m the one buried there, which is probably not what they’re getting at.

I’m completing the survey and sending it back, as they promised me an “absolutely free” Final Wishes Organizer to be delivered in return. Maybe now I can get organized, at last. 

My other letter went the first one better, offering two “absolutely free” books, a “10 Things Everyone Should Know” guide, plus one called “Imagine.” The sender is in California but has three convenient local affiliates here. This one didn’t bother with a survey, but just assumes that I’m not so inconsiderate as to leave my family in the lurch. Their FREE information will put me “in control,” and also show me how to “add personality to (my) service and make it a real celebration of life,” one I won’t be able to attend. Leave ‘em laughing, in other words.   

To get started on your hilarious and profound last words, refer to the first post at this site, and contact me at 615.516.5678 or paulerland@gmail.com.