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E-mail service a daily fix for obit obsessed
Published July 21, 2006
Too many days it seems that the news is about nothing but death, death and more death, mostly involving strangers.
But there's another kind of news about death, a kind that's more urgent because it's more personal, the news that some people search for first in their newspapers: the obituaries.
When that news interests you more than the front page, it's time, apparently, for ObitMessenger.
You may have seen the big ad for ObitMessenger in the Tribune, one of many papers that participate in this service.
"Newspaper death notices e-mailed to you each day," it promises.
"Each day ObitMessenger will search the obituary notices for that day from the newspapers you've selected. ObitMessenger will send you an e-mail when it finds obituary notices containing any of your key words (key words can include names, schools, hometowns, places of worship, etc.)."
Whoever invented the word "ObitMessenger" is a genius. It evokes a benevolent winged herald who flies straight to your computer--each day!--with glad tidings that someone you know has made it to the great beyond.
You've got mail: Jimmy from 5th grade is gone, and Becky from Sts. Peter & Paul Parish and Karen who lived down the street. No need to reply.
I'm not here to promote ObitMessenger, or to criticize it, just to wonder: At what point does a normal person want such a service?
At what point do you begin to actively solicit news of the passing of the characters who peopled this drama you call your life?
At what point would you want to get such news every single day, on the same screen on which you casually check the weather and the stock market?
Do you become hungry for your daily dose of obits in your 40s? Your 60s? In whichever decade you've lost a friend or two and realize that the odds have increased that on any given day from now on the count will grow?
Obit obsession is a phenomenon I first noticed in my father. He was in his 50s and terminally ill himself.
I knew something had changed in him when I noticed him flipping to the obituary page the minute he was done with his favorite section, Sports.
I asked him about it once. He wasn't the sentimental type. He just shrugged and said something like, "Life changes when your friends start to die."
Now, many years later, my mother--clearly a target market for ObitMessenger--regularly checks the obits online from Phoenix and Macon, Ga., places where she has lived.
"Ghoulish," I said when she mentioned it, though I know it's not.
Obits from near and far help her to connect the dots in her life. She's sad when she learns of an old friend's death, but takes some satisfaction in the Cliff's Notes version of the dearly departed's full life story. It's good to know how things turn out.
We live in a mobile, fractured world. People constantly change jobs, cities, spouses, e-mail addresses. And if the people of your life are scattered and your contact with them sporadic, you can't help but wonder about them.
One year the Christmas card doesn't come. Or your card gets returned unopened. You make a call, find the number disconnected. An e-mail bounces back.
At some point you start to think: How would I know if she died? Would anyone bother to tell me? Would someone search her address books or cell phone file and assume that because I was in there I should be told?
And what if I'm not in there? I'd still like to know. Didn't she leave instructions to tell me?
I've lost only one friend, to a car accident. I have yet to lose a close one to disease. I haven't reached the phase in which the ranks are noticeably thinning and the obits demand vigilance.
But the odds suggest that that day isn't far, and so though I'm not ready for ObitMessenger, I like to know someone is up there taking daily roll call and readying the report for the living who know that, yeah, life changes when your friends start to die.
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[email protected]
http://www.chicagotribune.com/entert...l=chi-news-hed
Published July 21, 2006
Too many days it seems that the news is about nothing but death, death and more death, mostly involving strangers.
But there's another kind of news about death, a kind that's more urgent because it's more personal, the news that some people search for first in their newspapers: the obituaries.
When that news interests you more than the front page, it's time, apparently, for ObitMessenger.
You may have seen the big ad for ObitMessenger in the Tribune, one of many papers that participate in this service.
"Newspaper death notices e-mailed to you each day," it promises.
"Each day ObitMessenger will search the obituary notices for that day from the newspapers you've selected. ObitMessenger will send you an e-mail when it finds obituary notices containing any of your key words (key words can include names, schools, hometowns, places of worship, etc.)."
Whoever invented the word "ObitMessenger" is a genius. It evokes a benevolent winged herald who flies straight to your computer--each day!--with glad tidings that someone you know has made it to the great beyond.
You've got mail: Jimmy from 5th grade is gone, and Becky from Sts. Peter & Paul Parish and Karen who lived down the street. No need to reply.
I'm not here to promote ObitMessenger, or to criticize it, just to wonder: At what point does a normal person want such a service?
At what point do you begin to actively solicit news of the passing of the characters who peopled this drama you call your life?
At what point would you want to get such news every single day, on the same screen on which you casually check the weather and the stock market?
Do you become hungry for your daily dose of obits in your 40s? Your 60s? In whichever decade you've lost a friend or two and realize that the odds have increased that on any given day from now on the count will grow?
Obit obsession is a phenomenon I first noticed in my father. He was in his 50s and terminally ill himself.
I knew something had changed in him when I noticed him flipping to the obituary page the minute he was done with his favorite section, Sports.
I asked him about it once. He wasn't the sentimental type. He just shrugged and said something like, "Life changes when your friends start to die."
Now, many years later, my mother--clearly a target market for ObitMessenger--regularly checks the obits online from Phoenix and Macon, Ga., places where she has lived.
"Ghoulish," I said when she mentioned it, though I know it's not.
Obits from near and far help her to connect the dots in her life. She's sad when she learns of an old friend's death, but takes some satisfaction in the Cliff's Notes version of the dearly departed's full life story. It's good to know how things turn out.
We live in a mobile, fractured world. People constantly change jobs, cities, spouses, e-mail addresses. And if the people of your life are scattered and your contact with them sporadic, you can't help but wonder about them.
One year the Christmas card doesn't come. Or your card gets returned unopened. You make a call, find the number disconnected. An e-mail bounces back.
At some point you start to think: How would I know if she died? Would anyone bother to tell me? Would someone search her address books or cell phone file and assume that because I was in there I should be told?
And what if I'm not in there? I'd still like to know. Didn't she leave instructions to tell me?
I've lost only one friend, to a car accident. I have yet to lose a close one to disease. I haven't reached the phase in which the ranks are noticeably thinning and the obits demand vigilance.
But the odds suggest that that day isn't far, and so though I'm not ready for ObitMessenger, I like to know someone is up there taking daily roll call and readying the report for the living who know that, yeah, life changes when your friends start to die.
----------
[email protected]
http://www.chicagotribune.com/entert...l=chi-news-hed
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