The obit desk.
When I was a young reporter for the Richmond News Leader, I often worked the obituary desk. That was different than reporting on the death of, say, a celebrity or a government official. Reporters needed to be unbiased and skeptical. Obit writers for a local, community, family newspaper were expected to be sympathetic and understanding. Unless you worked for The New York Times, you believed that every single person who passed on was beloved and accomplished and destined for sainthood.
I find myself in the obit business again. I wrote my own obit some months ago, to go in this space when I’m being skyrocketed into my own personal sainthood. I wrote about my mom a couple of weeks ago. And about Ella Kelley today. Enough. Wordsworth wrote that “the world is too much with us.” I disagree. Give me big bites of the world: it’s death that’s too much with us. In one of my first posts in this space, I wrote that cancer bores me, but that “dying is endlessly interesting.” I still believe that, but I could use a break here.