An Offbeat Collection

“Normal” people collect stamps or coins or certain kinds of art. Not an “offbeat” person like me. When I was a child, instead of letting candy wrappers flutter into the trash and disappear like their contents, I gave them a new lease on life via a scrapbook. The idea was to collect such wrappers from as many locations as possible, preferably ones from other lands. As an adult I’ve made a collection of another unexpected sort: eulogies. The first one I gave dates from 1990, and I still keep every eulogy I have written. A eulogy is a genre of literature in its own right, and certainly has historical interest. Eulogies strive to portray the essence of a person, and may contain advice on how to grieve, as well as comforting allusions from a family’s faith tradition.

For those reasons I occasionally include a eulogy in my posts. (As well as the fact that new visitors to my blog regularly stop in to read the eulogies, itself a curious matter. I would love for them to tell me why.) Excerpts from the one I am including this week is also of general interest because of a reference to a famous person as well as a humorous incident. (Only the famous person’s name, not the deceased and her family, is  real.)

I gave this eulogy in October 2008:

“Like Marcy herself, this is a family who knows how to speak up, and as Donald so delicately put it to me in private, they speak up with ‘no bull.’…The family then delightedly told me the story of when she wanted to visit her friend Placido Domingo—and I am not kidding; they were dear friends—to visit him at the Metropolitan Opera House armed with her signature blintzes to fortify him before the performance. Security guards scoffed at her as a nut who had to assume her proper place in line. She made it clear that she belonged at the head of the line and would most certainly not be deterred from seeing her friend. Upshot of story: the blintzes were dutifully delivered, and I suspect promptly consumed post performance….”

“As for modern things, she was at the head of the line for being among the first to own a personal computer and read emails in 1983. ‘You can’t imagine,’ as Marcy would have put it…”

“She was so well-versed in fashion; she knew what fabrics and styles were in or out in a given decade. Before her imminent death she said, ‘Too bad I’m dying soon; I’ll miss all the new fall fashions.’….

“There is so much to celebrate about Marcy, so much to mourn, so much to admire, so much to emulate and wonder about and marvel over… you will never, ever, completely imagine.”