As it got to my favorite shortcuts many years ago, the intent was to learn what I could about classmates or their parents who I heard had passed away. As a physician, I have been an obit reader since my residency years. Those people assigned to me as they were preparing to move on to the afterlife often had abundant achievements in years before I knew them. Terminally ill people dependent on others were not always that way, though their doctors would have to wait until their life's summary appeared in the newspaper to realize this.
That site has not been a prized destination in a while, though when I tap into it, my destination is usually for the main funeral home or newspaper of my childhood town.
This year two people of personal prominence appeared, accessed unexpectedly, just a few months apart via funeral notices. They were husband and wife, about ten years younger than my parents, each with a life span of about 85 years. Neither had an obit in the local paper, only a notice from the funeral home. The wife passed away earlier this year, the husband very recently. I am a little surprised the gentleman did not get more notice. Al and Bea lived catty-corner from us, in the corner house. They had two daughters and a dog. The daughters were about the age of my younger siblings where the school bus stopped. Al was a gracious and captivating fellow. When we met, he owned a gas station across from the local high school, the place of our tennis lessons. He sold the gas station to open a restaurant, which grew in popularity, then another that became a landmark where Lions Clubs or Kiwanis and the like would gather. They moved to a fancier neighborhood and I never saw them again, but my father and Al would keep in touch through a bowling league. As Al's prosperity and tolerance for risk grew, he took up flying his own plane. Our town had a non-commercial airport. A Cessna could be had for the price of 2 Cadillacs or so plus maintenance. Al's picture would appear in the news periodically, and withing the last couple of years somebody referenced him on Facebook which got me briefly in touch with his older daughter. He was referenced as a restaurant guru, easily recognizable from the FB picture, even past 80.
While my calling up the funeral home comes randomly, Al and Bea were each on the list. They had moved about 15 miles away for their senior years. Since neither had a formal newspaper obituary, I don't really know how his life progressed. But unlike my terminal patients who I only knew in decline, I had the pleasure and a measure of inspiration, to know and admire Bea and Al as young adults whose potential lay ahead of them. Al pursued his successfully.
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