"Watching someone die brings us powerfully in touch with how brief—yet intense—each life here is. The tweets, which felt almost aphoristic (a mere hundred and forty characters each), underscored one of the strangest things about being with someone at the end of her life: the surreality of time, the way that time bends and distorts, becomes material. Suddenly, we are aware that the sunny summer days won’t go on forever. Our time is limited. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, and yet the most elusive."
There was a lot of coverage of this new, unusual method of announcing a death, or a pending one. I know I would love to have done the same when my mother died but it took us by surprise and we only had three hours to round everyone up. And maybe some would have found it distasteful. What do you think about Scott Simon's tweets?
Pam said she feels no anger or resentment at the cruel irony of the situation. Her husband lived his life to the fullest and died living life to the fullest, she said.
“It was something he wanted his whole life,” Pam said. “It’s like my son said, ‘Dad went out with the biggest smile on his face.’”
Another wonderful obituary by The New York Times' Margalit Fox, the tale of a man who found a void and filled it. Here's a sample: "Mr. Buck knew dogs — as a young man, he bred Great Danes. He also knew New Yorkers. Before long, a void was filled.
By 1964, The Times reported, he was making $500 a week, more than his electronics job paid.
His cobbler enjoyed a regular cut: Mr. Buck wore through the soles of his shoes every two weeks."
Toronto, Canada (CNN) -- Their loved one isn't dead yet but sure seems to be nearly departed. So you could almost hear the organ and smell the lilies as the obit writers gathered and paid their respects to a dying art.
They drew comfort from one another as only people who write about the dead for a living can -- sharing cocktails and gallows humor on a Friday night in June, down in the rathskeller of an historic mansion. A band called Canuckistan played hippie-era classics by Neil Young, Bob Dylan and The Band (RIP, Levon Helm, 1940-2012.)
A lifelong Cleveland Browns fan and season ticket holder, he also wrote a song each year and sent it to the Cleveland Browns as well as offering other advice on how to run the team. He respectfully requests six Cleveland Browns pall bearers so the Browns can let him down one last time.
(H/T Jim Romenesko)
The tall tales from the Navy are so infamous it's easy to see why Mike was neither an officer, nor a gentleman. However, the U.S. military did survive Mike's four years of service, and rumor has it they even retired his uniform.