Having served over two decades in public service, she retired to Florida, embracing the life of an enthusiastic agoraphobe, busying herself with power napping, sampling the entire Hagaan-Das collection, watching MMA and conveniently allowing her hearing aid batteries to run out before venturing into any necessary public events. Her last few years were spent in Redmond, Wash., where she moved to devote herself to training her grandchildren how to fight and swear like sailors.
Chris Connors died, at age 67, after trying to box his bikini-clad hospice nurse just moments earlier. Ladies man, game slayer, and outlaw Connors told his last inappropriate joke on Friday, December 9, 2016, that which cannot be printed here. Anyone else fighting ALS and stage 4 pancreatic cancer would have gone quietly into the night, but Connors was stark naked drinking Veuve in a house full of friends and family as Al Green played from the speakers. The way he died is just like he lived: he wrote his own rules, he fought authority and he paved his own way. And if you said he couldn't do it, he would make sure he could.
(H/T Lisa Sayers)
Wayne Neal has exited his rickety old body, having lived twice as long as he expected and way longer than he deserved. He passed on September 11, 2016, at 74 years old. He often wished in his later years that he had not treated his body like a Tavern.
(H/T Peter Elikann)
Bruce Weber — not that Bruce Weber — has spent more than eight years writing obituaries for The New York Times. Last week, he wrote his own farewell, penning a story on his resignation from the paper. The journalist, who joined The Times as a staff editor for the Sunday magazine section in 1986, caught up with WWD to talk about his most memorable stories, how he approaches writing about the dead, and whether his departure is indicative of a larger obit for print media.
(H/T Stuart Elliot)
No sense in burying the lede. This week, after more than eight years of lively habitation in one of journalism’s more obscure corners, I’m making a final egress, passing on. Starting after Friday’s deadline (ha!) I am an ex-obit writer.
William Ziegler escaped this mortal realm on Friday, July 29, 2016 at the age of 69. We think he did it on purpose to avoid having to make a decision in the pending presidential election.
(H/T to Lisa Sayers)
My father regularly enjoyed reading the obituaries in The Economist, sharing the best ones with my Mother and friends. Actor Bill Paxton captures the sentiment well: “My father always read obituaries to me out loud, not because he was maudlin or morbid but because they were mini biographies.”