Six-words might save the day

A couple of weeks ago, some friends and I attended a memorial service. It was a lovely service, and we could see that it had required a lot of the family and church. Just one week after a sudden and unanticipated death, they had put together a complicated program, planted a tree, scattered ashes, written letters, and, and, and...I don't know. How does one know what to do? How to do it?

An agnostic, a secular humanist and a Methodist are travelling across Texas in a Ford Explorer...

Not the start of a joke. We had a 5-hour drive home. Each of us was thinking about our late friend, those he left behind, our own and each other's inevitable deaths, the kind of services we would put together for each other. We talked about it. We questioned each other. Since the service is in honor of the dead but experienced by the living, what does one do? Say the agnostic dies first. Does someone stand up and talk about Jesus? And when the Methodist predeceases the agnostic?

We also asked one another to make song selections. Unfortunately, as soon as someone (I) mentioned I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (equally inappropriate for a wedding reception), nobody could give a straight answer.

Anyway, being the take-charge person I am, I'm making plans. I've taken inspiration from Smith Magazine. When one of my people dies, I will send to everyone who knows him or her a request for a six word biography. Once I get them, I'll compile and publish a collection to distribute to family and friends.

Not having thought to do this in time for the recent loss, in memory of our friend we purchased a brick that will be used in the construction of our new public library. We came up with six words to describe our friend, but unfortunately, the brick inscription is limited to 60 characters and spaces, and since we wanted to include his name, dates and a quote from one of his favorite songs, there just wasn't enough room.

The others, gold

Just got news from an old friend. Chad Clark, a former colleague and fellow survivor of place I'll just call Bruceville, just had a brush with mortality. He was a Kelly Girl, and I was a nurse, and much to my shame, I got him addicted to computer solitaire. We haven't spoken in years and have emailed one another infrequently, but I think of him often and mean to touch base. Isn't that always the way.
I had a Chad flashback just last week when I heard an NPR interview with the genius Mike Doughty. Lo these many years ago, Chad introduced me to the music of Soul Coughing. They were so very far away from what almost anyone else in the world would expect this outwardly ridiculously white-bread girl to listen to, but Chad knew something about me that even I didn't. First (to me) came the CD Ruby Vroom, then a live show at the Black Cat in D.C. Transformative. Thereafter, I trusted him about all things musical, and he never failed to expand my world in all the tight places.
I don't know how it is with him these days, but back then Chad had a trunk full of CDs. None was in its original case. He had this habit of putting the most recently ejected CD into the case of the next one he wanted to hear. You could have backtracked and reconstructed his listening experience if you'd had hours and hours and an administrative assistant to take dictation.
Most endearingly, Chad laughed in all the right places when I told unabashedly exaggerated anecdotes about chance encounters in the elevator of our building.
Chad Clark, I miss seeing you every day, and I'm glad you're still on the planet.