When I was a child, I’d read the paper at breakfast with my Aunts Es and on weekends mornings with my Uncle Bob. I would start with the comic page, then I’d hunt for the single pane comics buried within the paper. Eventually, I’d make my way to the political comic on the editorial page. I’d then read Dear Abby, the editorial articles, the lifestyle columnists and would finally wrap up with any articles that caught my attention. Many times, I’d have to ask Essie or Bob to explain a punchline, a story or a sentence to me. For unknown words, I’d use the Websters Abridged Dictionary we kept in the kitchen drawer. A lot of times, I’d talk to Essie and Bob about the news.
They, being adults, would read the entire paper – including the obituaries. Back then I didn’t know why they were so interested in the obits. Now I realize it’s because our paper covered our small town plus many of the neighboring small towns. We all knew who had died in our small town and was having a funeral at one of our two funeral homes. Occasionally though, they would see an obituary for an old friend, a former neighbor, or a coworker who had moved away.
Because everyone knew everyone else, deaths were a big deal in Tamaqua. Deaths were personal. We would all get dressed up and attend the wake, the viewing and the funeral to pay our respects. People would say prayers in church and light candles. People from all over would visit the home, bringing home cooked food and sitting with the family.
Being a little kid, I didn’t understand death. I thought seeing the body in an open casket at the viewing was kind of creepy. But everyone was always super sweet to me. I got to see lots of relatives and neighbors and old people and young people. I remember seeing a working man show up after his shift in dusty jeans and work boots to pay his respects when my grandmother died. I remember eating lots of delicious food – halupkis, casseroles, deserts and candy. I remember running around with kids in the yard, trying to keep our “dress clothes” from getting ripped and grass stained, while our parents sat in the kitchen drinking and smoking and talking.
I moved many times since I was a little kid and never lived in a small, close-knit community like Tamaqua again. My exposure to death and funerals dropped to nearly zero. There were a few over the years- like my best friends grandfather or my mom’s boss’s mother – but not many.
By the time I became an adult, I had decided religion was a farce, funerals a ripoff and the entire “death thing” a poor substitute for for actually caring for someone when they were alive. You could say, I’d become a cynic. In many ways, I still am.
I’ve noticed, especially since the pandemic, that deaths have moved from the obituary pages to the “Breaking News Headlines”. It seems like every day, a headline shouts out the death of a celebrity, a politician, an athlete or a singer.
You know what? I don’t need to know about these – especially on a daily basis.
I think it is normal to know when a neighbor, a close friend, a family member or a coworker dies. These are people who are in my “tribe”. As for someone thousands of miles away, who I never met, their death might be a tragedy or a peaceful natural occurrence or “too soon” or…whatever.
But, it is none of my business.
So now, in addition to skipping the obituaries, I think I’ll pass on the headlines too.