Sometimes in my more cranky moments I start griping about the changes in the world. Why, I ask myself is everybody running around with plastic water bottles? All my life I managed to get along very well without one. There was enough junk in my bag without adding such a thing, and now it seems that the women’s purse designers have come out with gargantuan models, large enough to hold a gallon of Evian water and all kinds of electronic gadgets.
Can’t people spend an hour or so without swigging water from their screw-top bottles, and must they feel obsessed with chatting non-stop on their cell phones? They’re prowling the aisles of grocery stores, gab gab gabbing. Haven’t they ever heard of shopping lists? Must they call home to seek advice before buying a box of cereal or trying a new brand of coffee? If their conversations were a bit more scintillating, it might be fun to eavesdrop, but my only impulse is to snarl, “Must you talk so loud.”
When I return to the peace and quiet of my apartment and seek relaxation with a copy of the Greenwich Time, the obituary page leaves me equally baffled. There was a time when obituary notices were submitted to a special staff member who received the important information and wrote a piece in a conventional form. Now an obituary is usually composed by a devoted friend of family member. There is no restriction to the length of the obit, or limit to the gushing tributes. Computers seem to have spawned a host of would-be writers, and obituaries have become mini- biographies.
All of this is encouraged by the newspapers, a real cash cow for them, as they charge by the column inch.
They say it is good manners to speak well of the dead, but must they go overboard? Most of us have hypothetical “Aunt Tillies” in our lives, rich, old, greedy and lazy. Nasty pieces of business, to be sure. It’s quite a shock to read that she was a “delightful hostess, known for her quick wit and many kindnesses.” We are surprised to learn that her hobby was gathering sea shells and playing cribbage. Could have fooled us.
How refreshing it would be to read the truth. “Aunt Tillie was a monster. We dreaded her parties where she collected people almost as dull as herself. Her favorite hobby was picking fights and suing family members.” Then there is the Community Leader type who rates long inches of print for his good deeds and all the organizations he headed: The Shelter for Stray Cats, the Orphans of Bulgaria, the Blind Lepers of Montenegro, the Save Our Vanishing Walnut Trees, and Agnostics Unite. Pretty impressive.
Unfortunately, some of us have long memories. Where was this marvelous man when his own sister went blind and needed help, or when his neighbors’ house burned down, and they had no place to stay?
Yes, this world is a very confusing place.
