My last blog, revisionist
obituaries, was inspired by something I read about a former colleague. It described
his wife as the love of his life and him as a devoted father and grandfather. Definitely
not the man I remember, and I wrote: “Talk about a revisionist obituary.” I
then proceeded to write my own, well in advance, I hope. The post received many
comments, quite a few of which seemed to think my essay was an accurate
description of me. In the spirit of full disclosure, here is the redacted
version of my revisionist obituary.
Throughout her life,
as she clawed her way up the corporate ladder in a male-dominated profession,
Elaine was anything but easy-going and non-confrontational. She was often
described as having brass ones. She was known for her quick wit and sense of
humor, which frequently sank into the gutter. Her lengthy work hours and long
commute gave her an excuse for not keeping a tidy home, though she did clean
twice a year or whenever she was expecting company.
She didn’t even try
to follow in her mother’s footsteps as an outstanding baker. As for her cooking—she
had a handful of meals that were generally edible. But she did a great job with
her mother’s recipe for Italian meatballs and pasta sauce.
Elaine had an on and
off relationship with exercise and had a similar relationship with being trim
and fit. She would probably have needed to wear Omar-the-tentmaker muumuus were it not
for her good genes, growing up with lots of outdoor activities, and a short but
intense few years as a fencer during high school. The ship of her seven-minute
mile sailed when she was in her forties, and she huffed and puffed her way
through a twenty-minute mile from her sixties onward.
Her skill level in
the distaff arts was indeed unsurpassed. Sewing, knitting, crocheting. You name
it, she did it well. It is true that she won first prize in Colgate Palmolive’s
Holiday Doll Pageant thirteen years in a row for outfits she designed and made
for dolls going to disadvantaged children. In her later years, however, she failed
miserably in learning to use a glue gun. Her crafts were full of those telltale
spider-web strings, a sure giveaway that she didn’t let go of the trigger
quickly enough.
Her community service
was hit or miss, since she never had much patience for politics, but she was a dedicated
supporter of animal rescue groups. A refrigerator magnet reading “Patron Saint
of Senior Cats” would be a nice token of remembrance, if anyone wants to get
one made.
Elaine had several
long-term relationships in her life. In her later years, she learned that a few
(not the ‘many’ of her revisionist obituary) men secretly thought of her as the
love of their life. Women called her a true and faithful friend. All would tell
you (with a straight face) that they never exchanged a mean word or had a
single heated argument in all their years together. Then they’d laugh until
tears rolled down their cheeks.
Though she never had
any children of her own, Elaine was beloved by her nieces and nephew and
grandnieces and grandnephew. “Aunt E” could always be counted on to make
everyone laugh. Their memories of good times with her, along with the hundreds
of books and essays she published, will guarantee that she will not be
forgotten any time soon.
Actually, I think
this last paragraph was fine as written. At least I hope so.
Copyright 2019
Business Theatre Unlimited
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