She of We asked He of We if he saw the story about the feuding children who were posting competing obituaries.  Oddly enough, He of We who seems invariably to come across only the most bizarre news while trying to find the local weather, sports scores, or lottery numbers, hadn’t.  Since he can’t let much get by him he went in search and found not only that which She of We had referenced, but several other articles decrying bad behavior in the world of remembrances.  Let’s catch you up on what we found.

That which started it all started in of all places, Florida.  The Sunshine State wasn’t sporting very bright people when a seemingly doting son decided he was going to vent his resentments with his siblings in mom’s printed 15 Minutes.  His paid tribute billed himself as the loving son and the other two children as the daughter who betrayed her and the son who broke her heart.  Such a close family.  Word is that the daughter wrote a second obituary but that one seems to be unavailable for viewing to the Internet world.  There was one article that said it contained basically the same information as that of the first without the colorful descriptions of the siblings.  And mom’s age was different.  Maybe they weren’t so close.

It got us to thinking about the etiquette behind obituaries.  We’ve written about workplace etiquette (Fire Them All), shopping etiquette (Clean Up on Aisle Ten), restaurant etiquette (Terms of Appreciation, You want fries with that?), even parking lot etiquette (Parking Wars).  We didn’t think we’d have to ever discuss death etiquette.  Apparently we do.  Not only have we now seen how people can’t keep their pettinesses out of the paper, we’re also aware of viewings, wakes, and services which have been interrupted by arguments, fights, and visits by the police who weren’t there visiting the deceased.

Clearly the best way to approach this issue is proactively.  We plan to write our own obituaries.  And while we’re at it, plan the rest of the party as well.  Who knows us better?   We’ve all read obituaries that just aren’t quite right.  Is the surviving son in Sonoma Sam or Sid?  Didn’t daughter Debbie divorce Dick the dolt?  Since when did he belong to the Loyal Order of the Goose?  It’s understandable.  Obituaries get written in times of extreme stress and grief.  And apparently nobody is checking them too closely for content.  We’ll get the details right.

Some other details about our last hurrah need to be worked out also.  It’s not that we want to celebrate death but we both are of a faith that looks forward to an afterlife with our God and those who have already gone.  You guys left behind have to learn to suck it up and wait your turn.  So no mournful music, no dreary dress, no dull visitations.  We prefer lots of light, pictures, upbeat music, and something spiffy to wear.  We don’t want to look like we’re going to a funeral at our funerals.   We think perhaps a bright blouse, tropical print shirt, and maybe a straw hat at a jaunty angle is a good tone to set for the rest of the crowd.   

Speaking of tone, no organ music at the funeral home.  There are stacks of jazz CDs in both of our cars.  Pick out a couple of handfuls and hustle them over to the mortuary.  If they can’t figure out how to work a CD, find someone under the age of 30.  He or she will be able to download them all onto an MP3 player to make it go on through 2 or 3 visitation sessions without having to change it.  At the church we’d like to hear some upbeat scripture readings.  David chatted about topics plenty more upbeat than “the valley of the shadow of death.”  Fast forward a couple of psalms to “remember your love and kindness…not my sins from when I was younger” for something more chipper and probably a little more accurate where we’re concerned.

Now, getting us around on that last day.  Do we really have to use a hearse?  Dull, dull, dull.  There’s a perfectly good red convertible in He of We’s garage.  Prop up Whichever of We in the passenger seat and let’s go out for a spin.  That just leaves the closing music.  Everybody has passed on by, said “see you later,” and now we need some final travelling music.  She of We thought perhaps, “And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain” sung by nobody other than Frank.  It is a terrific send-off for her with the living a full life, tasting it all, and doing it her way.  He of We is leaning more toward keeping the party going and is calling on Irving Berlin to pave the way with Alexander’s Ragtime Band.  We have to wait until halfway through the chorus but there the lyrics say it all, “Come on along, come on along, let me take you by the hand. Up to the man, up to the man, who’s the leader of the band.”  

We know it’s not a terribly original idea.  People have been making their own final arrangements for some time.  You take away a lot of stress at an already stressful time for stressed out people who aren’t always thinking their best.  We figure we’ll pick the mid-price packages all the way around preserving as much of the inheritance as we can and nobody has to feel guilty about taking the cheap way out.  Between the cool clothes, upbeat music, optimistic readings, and cheery bon voyage, nobody will notice we’re going in little more than a high class pine box.  And if they do, nobody can blame anybody but us.  And frankly, we really won’t care.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?