Obituaries

Lately I've been reading (consuming) the obituaries in the papers each day over breakfast. Is it a function of age or dealing with my own mortality? Was it a desire to remember every last fact about Walter Cronkite? I do know my health is good, so I wasn't looking just to make sure I didn't see my own name.

As I sat with my nervous, sick, shaking 13 year-old lab Guernesy at the vet this morning I realized I'm not having a new fascination with death. Instead I'm remembering to celebrate life. Those obits attempt to paint the richness of individual lives. They don't sweat the small stuff and the time wasters. They often move me. And they remind me to live.

To avoid being too morbid I also enjoy reading the back of the cereal box.