Always read the obituaries first

If you read a daily newspaper and want to feel better about life, the planet, and the human race, skip the front page and go straight to the obituaries. You will not be sorry.

My wife—a breathtakingly level-headed woman—often reminds me that I'm not getting any younger. Who is? I often wonder what (if anything) will be said about me when I shuffle off to that eternal faculty meeting in the sky. Perhaps this is why I am interested in obituaries; they have become personally relevant. But, morbid curiosity is not my only reason for reading obituaries. I read them because kindness, goodness, and decency are not news.

Let me explain.

Over the years, I have lived in Sydney, London, and New York. To keep up-to-date, I read the newspapers of these three cities. Here are some representative stories.

Some "Puerto Rican community" members say Steven Spielberg's new version of West Side Story does not "count as a serious exploration of Puerto Rican or so-called Latinx life." They lay responsibility for this disrespect at the feet of the "four white men" who created the original musical. (No prizes for guessing that this story appeared in the New York Times.) 

The following three stories are from Sydney newspapers: (1). Drug users are shooting up in taxis. It's the fault of the police who cracked down on the use of drugs in nightclubs driving addicts to indulge their habit in taxis instead. (2). Owners have found contamination at a Sydney development site, and it's the planning minister's fault. (3). A high profile politician sent a rude email about the Prime Minister to another highly visible politician who sent an equally rude one back. In this case, the fault belongs not to the politicians but to the journalist who violated the politicians’ privacy by exposing the emails.

The United Kingdom's most widely covered story is whether the Prime Minister's wife is "responsible" for his attending "prosecco-fueled" parties at the same time his government locked down the rest of the country to slow the spread of Covid-19.

I could go on, but I am sure you already see the pattern. Events unfold, sometimes big, more often trivial, but nothing is due to chance or accident. Every problem is a sign of venality on someone’s part. It is easy to see why the public has become cynical. Fortunately, there is an antidote to the relentless pessimism and scapegoating of the news pages, and you can find it in the obituaries.

Sidney Poitier, Betty White, Meat Loaf, and Colin Powell died last month. Each was famous, and each made lasting marks on the world. Their obituaries are worth reading. But, I particularly like reading about people whose names are not widely known.

Consider Ian Flett Robertson, an ophthalmologist and transplant surgeon who devoted much of his career to establishing an eye bank to facilitate corneal transplants. He was an inspirational teacher, a loyal colleague and a humane doctor who helped give the gift of sight to countless people. Sadly, Dr Robertson died blind from glaucoma. His blindness was no one’s fault, merely a reminder of how regrettably unpredictable life can be.

Michael Lang, former owner of a "head shop" selling drug paraphernalia, also died last month. He was the co-organiser of the Woodstock Festival in the summer of 1969. Nearly half a million people descended on a farm in upstate New York for performances by Jimi Hendrix, the Grateful Dead, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and many others. Lang and his partners lost a fortune on the event. It took years to repay his backers and creditors. Nevertheless, Woodstock became a symbol of the sixties counterculture that still reverberates today.

Ronnie Campbell was a Scottish crofter (tenant farmer) who died last month. Although he had little formal education, Campbell led the crofters' union. In the years before trucks transported sheep around the country; the animals walked long distances on foot. In 1949, Campbell took part in the last big Highland sheep drive. He was a fluent speaker of traditional Gaelic, a keen player of a Highland form of hockey called shinty, a folk dancer, and a singer. Campbell danced and sang at ceilidhs internationally. He was a relative of Mary MacKillop and attended her canonisation ceremony in Australia, where he gave the Pope the gift of a shepherd's crook. Campbell stood for election to parliament several times but failed. No one was to blame. Perhaps Campbell would have been successful if he had traded his woolly cap and manure-covered boots for something a bit more fashionable.

Everyone's life story is unique, but a pattern emerges as you read the obituaries. It is exactly opposite to the one found in the news pages. It seems that most people are neither corrupt nor malicious—they are kind-hearted, tolerant, and honest. Instead of thieves and scoundrels, most politicians are hardworking and trustworthy. That is why Australia is no longer a penal colony. A few business people are rapacious and grasping, but the majority are truthful and keep their promises. If they did not, business would be impossible to conduct, and we would not be living our wealthy, comfortable lives.

Doctors, farmers, lawyers, cooks, drivers, engineers, and teachers do their jobs every day. They are unpretentious heroes who make it possible for the rest of us to enjoy our health, feed and educate our children and feel safe in our towns and cities. And let’s not forget the many brave soldiers who have died in distant lands—often before they have had the chance of a life of their own—so that the rest of us can enjoy reading our morning newspapers in a free and safe country. Their stories will never appear in the news pages because goodness, kindness, decency, patriotism, and benevolence are not news. You can only learn about them from the obituaries.

So, if you are among the dwindling number of people who still read newspapers, and you want to feel better about life, the planet and the whole human race, then skip the front page and go straight to the obituaries. You will not be sorry.

A PDF of this article can be found here.