As my friends will tell you, I am an avid obituary reader. With no disrespect to the dearly departed, I intrude on strangers' lives and read what their loved ones have to say about them. They're like history lessons-listing alma maters, clubs and associations. Accomplishments, volunteer work and church affiliation. They include the names of family members who preceeded them in passing and those who are left behind to grieve. Even a favorite pet.
     Some death notices are lengthy, leaving nothing to the imagination. Or so short, I am left to speculate. Some are pure delight, like the one a friend sent from an out-of-state newspaper. It told of a memorial gathering at a local bar and restaurant. Anyone who brought the obit with them to the potluck fundraiser would receive a dollar off the price of admission. I pictured casseroles and cocktails followed by cookies and coffee. Dart games and rounds of pool. A perfect send-off for a "loveable scoundrel."
     Years ago, necrologies were placed in the paper for days at a time or even a week. Today, with the per line price so high, most are run for only a day. The majority appear in Sunday's edition. So many, you can't rush through them or you might miss one. Of course, as I said, that is not my style. I linger over every word and study the accompanying snapshots that have become commonplace. Two, sometimes three, cups of coffee are downed as I peruse and ponder, trying to get a clear picture of each life.
     I often wonder if any of the deceased wrote their own notice. A premonition or doctor's diagnosis would give a person time to remember the highlights of their existence and allow them to spend their last hours with pen and paper, writing what they want strangers like me to know about them. That may have to be the route for me. Whenever I turn to my husband, to read a notice aloud to him, his attention is on the sports' section. "Listen to this," I say, before proceeding with the narration. "Write something like that about me, will you?" I ask. I remind him of the organizations I belong to and that I attended three different high schools. "Write it down so I don't get it wrong," he says. With his head still buried in statistics and players, though, it's hard to tell if he means it.
     I used to wonder how the press was able to publish a full-length obituary so quickly after a person of importance passed away. It made sense when I learned news organizations often prepare them in advance when notables reach a certain age or become ill. It made me sad to learn the Associated Press has already written the death notice of pop star Britney Spears who many fear is headed towards disaster. I hope Britney makes some changes so the AP has to throw away their presumptive notice.
     Otherwise, she may be remembered like that man whose friends honored him with a potluck at the local lounge. "Misunderstood by most," they wrote about him. Come to think of it, that pretty much describes us all.