Dear Obituary

On my latest octogenarian birthday,
stymied at penning a new poem,
it occurred to me that I might 
write my own obituary 

My cousin Mort had just written his obit,
published (sans photo)
in the Minneapolis Star and Tribune,
although he was unable to read the final print

Written, of course in the third person,
his lede struck me as a good prompt
Mort -------- died on ---------
He was 92 and overweight.
He was given plenty of advance notice
of his imminent death, but his lifelong
habit of procrastination meant he didn’t
write his obituary until pretty much
the last minute, thereby sacrificing 
fact-checking, proofreading, and style.

So, how to follow my basic demise data, 
I mused, and how much background,
how many of my lifelong stories to share, 
in short, how long ought I write

A quick graph on a winter birth during a
Minnesota blizzard, born, of course, to
her named parents, along with the names of 
two baby sisters who appeared out of nowhere

She would likely begin her life story
in the downtown library, where her mother 
took her on the streetcar and where she fell in love
with books and eventually became a writer

Then she would probably list every childhood book   
she remembered and continue listing 
title after favorite title from that time forward
(a tad obsessively) throughout the years to follow

She would include study in the School of Journalism,
exhilarating days on the university newspaper staff,
and be compelled to include a true tale of her small coup 
‘interviewing’ Soviet Premier Khrushchev (one question!)

Of course, the obit would cover her first paid job,
reporter for the Port Chester (NY) Daily Item and writing
small town news    then finally a real-life story: 
a raging fire on Main Street on a freezing winter night

Young and invincible, she ventured by freighter 
to Europe, finding herself in Berlin just at completion
of the wall dividing Communist and free Berlin, where she
snagged a short stint reporting for the UPI news service

Back in Manhattan, she edited school-aimed paperbacks
at Bantam Books on Madison Avenue (cost 50 cents each)
Then, one night, being at the right place and the right time,
she met her prince who was to become the love of her life

Dear Obituary Reader, they eloped!  Living, then,
in Los Angeles, where small publishers and magazines
frowned at hiring women on staff, she turned to teaching
in a newly government-funded program, Head Start

She birthed two dear sons, and she adored
reading to them beginning in infancy    now
she would probably list titles, there existing so many
more wonderful books since her young days

While reading — the voice, the rhythm, the style
of children’s literature sang to her, stuck in her ears,
and she went on to author some thirty books for 
young readers, focusing on history and biography
(yes, several award winners to be noted here)

Her husband preceded her in death and, in time,
she reinvented herself as a poet . . . 

Stop!    At this point I realize:
rambling autobiography, not obituary

And I know that newspapers charge by the inch
Cousin Mort’s obit, which highlighted only 
essentials, ran only six graphs, likely keeping the cost
under five hundred dollars.

So, I’ll leave my survivors to write short about
the beloved wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend
who became a writer and how she favored 
music, theater, and volunteering with children 

If they include a photo, she has a nice one
of herself at age twenty-five
It’s in a lavender envelope 
in the top right drawer of her desk