Doris - My Hero

Doris Ruth (Fuller) Larson Ryan, age 48, of Cove, Arkansas passed away February 28, 2011 at UAMS.

Doris was my hero. I found her obit in today's paper and cried.

She appeared on my radar in the spring of 1975, the day the results of the Junior High cheerleader tryouts were announced. Eight of the girls were no surprise; the usual suspects - cute little petite popular girls. And then there was Doris. All through the day everyone was asking, "Who is this Doris girl???"

In an era of cutesy names like Mitzi, Jenni, and Kristi, there was Doris. Doris, a name associated more with grandmotherly smells and sensible orthopedic shoes than perky little cheerleaders. Doris.

You see, Doris was one of those 7th grade girls nobody noticed. She was tall, gawky, all arms and legs; towered over everyone and slouched just a little to fit in. She had a mop of wild, curly carrot-red hair she hadn't yet learned to tame. She didn't wear makeup and dressed like a tomboy. She was practically invisible to the tight social cliques of a small-town Junior High.

But she had given it her all in the cheerleader tryouts and earned a coveted spot. Against all odds, she, who once was a Nobody, suddenly became a Somebody. She was living proof that Cinderella stories can and do come true, a hero to all little geeky girls who can only dream of sitting at the Cool Kids table at lunch. I always wondered if that fateful day in '75 had a dramatic impact on the outcome of her life. Did she dance in her glass slipper or did it cause blisters?

I didn't know Doris personally because we were in different grades and ran with different crowds, she an exalted Cheerleader and I a lowly Band Geek. I doubt she would have even recognized my name. But I admired her from afar, marveling at the grace with which she carried her unexpected fame.

I've thought about Doris from time to time over the years and wondered where she was and how she was getting on. Sadly, that question was answered today.

Rest in peace Doris. You will always be my hero.

Obituary Rant

I've noticed lately in obituaries that it has become unpopular to say simply "He died..." In place of that are flowery phrases dealing with the transmogrification of people from the land of the quick to the land of the dead. Here are some examples:

-passed away

-departed this life

-went to be with the Lord

-went home to be with the Lord and Savior

-entered into his new life in Heaven

-passed peacefully on to a better place

-passed gently and triumphantly through death into life everlasting

-was transfixed into infinity

-An angel - perhaps two - came and carried Lillian to her heavenly home to join Jesus, her parents, and other loved ones that preceded her. (Perhaps Lillian was a big woman requiring two angels instead of the requisite one...)

-God called Michael home to a place of rest in His everlasting arms

-The Lord has called one of his good and faithful servants to come home. Roy answered the call on...

-Heaven is shining brighter today with the arrival of Sarah...

I suppose the writers of these obituaries were dealing with the pain of losing a loved one and saying bluntly "he died" would be too much to bear; too final. For them using the word "died" would sound so harsh and impersonal, rather like one was reporting on the fridge that has ceased to function. The refrigerator just dies. People (or their souls) are supposed to be going on to a more wonderful place.

Be that as it may, I really don't want to read rough drafts for somebody's Great American Novel in an obituary. More than three words to convey the idea of death is overkill. I don't want to have to interpret all that fluff as "died." I know the person died, it's an obituary for goodness sake. Just say they died and get on to the good stuff. It's cheaper!

Great Obits (#4) - Potluck Funeral

Danny Lee, age 46, of Mena, passed away Friday.

He was an avid sportsman, and loved to hunt and fish. It was his wish that his ashes be put back to the outdoors he enjoyed so much. He was a loving father, son, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend, and will be greatly missed by all who knew him.

Danny Lee was sent for cremation. His family will be holding a pot-luck dinner to honor his memory and character. A date and time will be announced.

----------------------------------

The folks in Mena, AR know how to throw good funeral doings. It has never occurred to me to have a potluck funeral. What a concept.

"Danny died, y'all come eat! Bring a dish."

I suppose they will scatter his ashes in the river after dinner, build a bonfire, and hoist a few cold ones in his memory. It's a bubba thing to do.

Funeral Headquarters

In the obituaries in my hometown newspaper, the last line often reads, "The family will be headquartered at the home of...." This lets folks know where to pay their respects and drop off the casserole without having to drive all over town. While this is a charming Southern tradition when someone dies, I would be appalled to know that at the hour of my death, half the town would descend upon my house only to discover it has been a while since I scrubbed the toilet.

At Funeral Headquarters, the family decides which dress to bury Momma in, picks out music for the funeral and deals with an onslaught of food. How much ham is really necessary to bury someone in Lower Arkansas? When my friend Cindy Lou's momma died, I ended up with a fully cooked ham complete with pineapple rings, Maraschino cherries, and a wonderful glaze. It was still warm from the oven when she foisted it on me at the visitation. She said there were already two whole hams at the house in addition to several sliced ham trays. We ate ham for months afterward...ham steaks, ham sandwiches, diced ham in salads. I didn't know ham would keep in the freezer, but it does, and fairly well too.

Back at Funeral Headquarters, the family also has to deal with the cut-throat actions of the widder women who come to pitch their woo to the newly minted widower. A widowed man with a home, acreage and a military pension is quite a catch around here. The Widder Women walk around Funeral Headquarters redecorating the rooms in their head. You can see it in their eyes, "Oh how tacky, that would *have* to go," and "My sofa would look so great over there by the fireplace." Cindy Lou had to run off two women who had overstayed their welcome battling over her daddy. The third day after the funeral she told 'em they needed to go back home and stay there.

It got me to thinking about the word "headquartered." To me that evokes the idea of a military command post; a place to plan a battle strategy. Is this what we do in Lower Arkansas? Plan a battle strategy against Death? Or is it against the mourners?

Grim Reaper Stats - 2006

March Madness is here and basketball statistics abound on the Internet. I don't give one whit about basketball, so I am offering up some interesting statistics of my own. These are based on deaths reported in my hometown newspaper from Jan. 01 through Dec. 31, 2006.

Total deaths reported: 526

• 7 souls, or 1.3%, did not live to see their first birthday.
• 5 souls, or .9%, lived over a century.
• The average lifetime was 71 years, 5 months, 8 days.
• 18 souls, or 3.4%, died at age 86, more than any other age; ages 79, 80, 82, and 85 came in second place with 17 souls or 3.2% each; and age 92 came in third with 16 souls, or 3.0%.
• 57 souls, or 10.8%, died in May, the most in a single month; only 30 souls, or 5.7%, died in July.
• 3 souls were victims of a drunk driver. Two of those were children under 5 mowed down while strapped in their stroller. The third was their momma.
• 50 souls, or 9.5%, were younger than me.
• 83 souls, or 15.8%, were Baby Boomers born between 1946 and 1964.
• 169 souls, or 32%, did not draw a dime of Social Security.

The moral of the story:

Don't have any unfinished business with the people you love. Tell them you love them and give them a hug at every possible opportunity. It may be the last opportunity you have.

Draw up a Will, plan your funeral, write your obit, buy a burial plot. Do not become another Anna Nicole Smith and have your family fighting over where, when and how to dispose of your withered husk.

Buckle your seatbelt during the month of May and watch out for deer on roadways.

Don't worry too much about the future of Social Security. There is a one-in-three chance you won't get to use it anyway. If I had those odds on winning the lottery I'd be down at the Stop-n-Rob this very minute buying a ticket. Look to your left, look to your right. One of the three of you is not gonna make it. But who?


Talk amongst yourselves.

Great Obits (#3) - Gone to a Better Place

Some obits are powerful statements of a person's life, not because of a lengthy recap of their lifetime accomplishments, but because of a succinctly written economy of words. This is one of my all-time favorite obits I've kept in the file:

Dick O. Hilligoss, Poyen, born June 9, 1938 in Minnesota, died Dec. 11, in Arkansas. Known by many, liked by some, disliked by others, gone to a better place. Cremation arrangements by...

Wow! Dick's life eulogized in 14 words. Outstanding!

Great Obits (#2) - Secret Fishin' Hole

ROCKPORT, Texas - Harry, 67, passed from this life on Friday at his home.

Harry was an avid fisherman and a United States Navy veteran. One of his greatest joys was taking all the grandkids fishing; he would bait all the hooks and just smile when they hooked a big one. Harry was a man of very few words and he did not leave behind a great fortune for his family, but he left behind something that most of us only wish we could when it's all said and done. He left behind the wisdom of knowing when to and not to speak, knowing exactly what to say, and the fact that if you know nothing about the subject you probably shouldn't say anything at all.

Harry died just as he lived, very modest, nothing fancy and when given the grim news just a few short months ago about his illness, he chose not to put his family through the long road of hope and suffering and trips to the hospital and countless dollars spent on him; he simply said "Let's Go Home". Harry did just that and without the aid of doctors or miracle workers he once again did it perhaps the only way he knew how, the old fashioned way... He took it like a man!!

Until now, Harry never lived in a mansion or walked on streets of gold. He now fishes in a pond where the catch will never grow old. There will not be a large church gathering or a line of visitors or friends. Just one final request from one of God's simple men. He asked to be cremated and his ashes scattered in the wind near that secret fishin' hole he thought was all his. Final resting place, Estes Flats in Aransas Bay at Rockport, Texas.

Why You Should Write Your Own Obit

Bonnie, age 68, of Hot Springs, died Saturday. Besides the standard born on, daughter of, married to, survived by info, this was the only line that told who she was and what she did with her life.

"Bonnie collected angels and enjoyed watching her afternoon stories."

It didn't even have something like "member of the St. Jimmy Goad Missionary Baptist Church." Good Grief! Was this woman a bigger introvert than me? She was survived by three sons, three daughters, seventeen grandchildren, one brother and six sisters.

Could not one person among them come up with something more imaginative to write in her obituary?

Speck
"Speck talked on the phone and enjoyed playing on the Internet."

Great Obits (#1) - If You Feel Compelled

This is the obit of a fellow I wish I had known (bold emphasis mine):

ARKADELPHIA - Vernon, formerly of Fordyce, died Saturday. Vernon was a veteran of World War II, and was severely wounded in the Battle of the Bulge in Germany. He overcame the doctors predictions who told him he would never walk again. He would laughingly comment, "They gave me a rifle and told me to shoot at someone and I wasn't mad at anybody."

He was a successful businessman, operating the Lion Oil jobbership for Dallas County. He became interested in timberland and bought and managed his timber investments until the last day of his life. He believed in conservation and in leaving the land better off than when he bought it. The family has requested no flowers, but if you feel compelled any gift would be appreciated to Alzheimer's Research.

Burial will be at a little cemetery on the farm were Vernon was born near his beloved Goathead Deer Camp, casual dress required.

Vernon seems like the kind of guy I would have felt privileged to call a friend. A salt of the earth kinda guy, kinda laid back, trying to make his little corner of the world better off than when he started. He probably didn't want a lot of fru-fru fuss made over him at his funeral. He probably held the opinion that paying good money for funeral flowers was wasteful. God grows beautiful flowers for free, why cut a bunch that will only wither and die in a few days time?

Hoping to avoid having to deal with a bunch of potted dieffenbachia, the family gave mourners an out..."if you feel compelled." Well of course folks would be compelled. Proper southerners don't show up at funeral doings empty-handed. They send flowers, a casserole, or a pie.

I would have split the difference. I would have shown up at the funeral in my bib overalls with a few spring bulbs and a spade in my back pocket and planted jonquils around Vernon's headstone. I think he would have liked that.