Enjoy every day of your life while you can | William Tells
In last week's column, I likely put you to sleep by writing about my long and boring attachment to the Daily News of yesteryear. As often happens with my column, I used up my 1,000-word column allotment before I actually got around to writing about the most important section in any newspaper.
The paper's overall quality notwithstanding, the one section of the Daily News that remains relevant in my life is the obituary page. While folks who reside in much larger cities routinely ignore the obituary page, which to most is filled with an anonymous list of names, it is this page that informs you and me of the loss of folks who have played a role in our lives and/or this community we call home.
For several decades, when I turned to the obituary section, I did so with a certain amount of smugness (if that is a word), secure in the knowledge that the departed folks listed were far older than me - and that my turn to join the obit fraternity would likely occur far down the road. Well, sadly, life has a way of passing by on its own terms, and all of a sudden, when I open the obituary page, I now find that the folks listed are often young enough to call me "Pops".
I know a little bit about obituaries because I am the loudmouth of the family and in addition to composing obituaries for family members, I have on several occasions been invited to eulogize friends and family members upon their passing.
I can tell you based on experience that in regard to published obituaries, the less said the better. Inasmuch as the Daily News charges a fee for each word contained in one's obituary, I have suggested to my wife that when my warranty expires, she submit the following obituary. "He's dead. No services." Sadly, I think she agrees.
A few decades back, over a glass or two of Larry Jantzen's rotgut whisky, Larry and I made a pact that at the time did not seem important, as we were at that time both youngish, intelligent, handsome, healthy, masculine men.
While Larry is proficient in mathematics, mastering the English language, along with the rudimentary ability to write a complete sentence, is not in his wheelhouse. It was for those reasons that I agreed to write not only his eulogy but also mine.
While writing both eulogies will guarantee that at least mine will be accurate and full of positive achievements and interesting information, there is a small possibility that I might pass before he does, regardless of how much better I look when standing next to him.
As a member of the Red Bluff High Class of 1963, I am fortunate to keep up with the lives of my former classmates because we actually have a class statistician by the name of Gary Allwardt who keeps track of such things as marriages, divorces, grandchildren, careers, and address changes along with a list of classmates who have passed away.
For the first four or five decades after graduating from high school, it was enjoyable to hear about anything and everything about old classmates. Now, while it seems to have happened overnight, poor old Gary Allwardt now spends most of his time breaking the news that one of our classmates has passed through the pearly gates. Take this last month, for instance.
Lanny Owens was a classmate of mine. While I did not know him well, I know that, unlike me, he was a good golfer, so much so that for years he headed up the motley group of SIRS golfers while employed at the Oak Creek Golf Club.
Karen Fritzell was in my class all through school. She was attractive, intelligent, and totally out of my league. She resided in Portland, Oregon. She earned a PHD in college and traveled throughout the world. The last time I saw her was at our 60th high school reunion in 2023.
Janet Sinclair passed away recently after a lengthy illness. Janet was a foot taller than me in elementary school, and one of her grandchildren was my grandson's best friend in pre-school. Janet was as nice as they come, and she will be deeply missed.
When you reach a certain age, you are almost afraid to open the newspaper to see who may have passed. Corky Hendricks was a charter member of the longest-running Bunco Club in the history of womenkind. I knew her when we both worked for the county, and a nicer lady you will never find.
Like me, Toby Morgan was a left-handed golfer. Unlike me, Toby could actually play the game. A long- time member of the Wilcox Golf Club, Toby now joins the group of characters who hang out at Bubba's Grove.
Though he was a few years younger than I, Bob Morehouse, like me, was an exceptional athlete. We used to sneak into the old boys' gym to play basketball at two o'clock in the morning. After a long illness, Bob recently passed away, and like each of my old friends listed above, he will be dearly missed. May you all rest in peace.
While I did not say it very well, this column was actually meant mostly for you middle-aged folks out there. Do not take life for granted, as none of us will get out of this world alive. One day, you will wake up to the realization that you are old. Now is the time for you to follow your dreams. Hug your family. Travel. Paint. Run a marathon. Volunteer. Stay busy.
Do something positive, as every day will soon pass by faster than the last, and like my classmates and me, you will wake up one day and wonder when you might see your own name on the obituary page.
Have a great Wednesday, everyone.
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