Deadly Mistakes: Real Obituaries Gone Amusingly Wrong

© 2011 The Cox Brothers. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 3/11/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0039-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0040-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0041-1 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

FORWARD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

CHAPTER 1:

THE STRANGE/WEIRD/BIZARRE

CHAPTER 2:

ANIMAL LOVERS

CHAPTER 3:

SPECIAL TALENTS/HOBBIES

CHAPTER 4:

AWARDS AND ATHLETIC ACHIEVEMENTS

CHAPTER 5:

UNIFORMS, JOINERS AND EXALTED TITLES

CHAPTER 6 :

GOBSMACKED BY BLATHERSKITES

CHAPTER 7:

LIFE’S SIMPLE PLEASURES

CHAPTER 8:

LIFE’S A BITCH

CHAPTER 9: MISCELLANEOUS

CHAPTER 10: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING

CHAPTER 11: FITTING CONCLUSION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

FORWARD

Obituary: a published notice of a death,

usually with a brief* biography of the deceased

(*Authors’ emphasis)

This whole process started by accident. Sometime in late 2005 or early 2006, Scott happened to read an obituary in the Phoenix paper that struck him as funny. Temporarily unemployed, he would read anything and take a weird sort of comfort in knowing that someone was having a worse day than he was.

But, really, funny obituaries? How could they be funny? Because the writers went so over the top in describing the recently departed.

Soon, Terry was reading obits in his local paper, and discovering some very weird, strange, and downright funny pieces. In time we decided that perhaps we could make a book out of them. What the hell? Americans can laugh at just about anything. If Albert Brooks can look for humor in the Muslim World, and the Darwin Awards can celebrate the idiotic ways in which people can remove themselves from the gene pool, then we figured we could mine for nuggets of laughter in the obit pages.

Now might be a good time to clear up what could be a misconception about us. We’re not ghouls who take delight in the misery of others. Perhaps we’re just weird. We do admit that we pour through the papers every morning looking for the story about an angry mob beating a rude cell phone user into submission; or one about an air marshal pistol-whipping a cell phone user for using the phone before the plane has landed; or one about angry passengers descending on the cell phone addict for delaying departure because he can’t end his conversation with the person he left at the terminal five minutes before.

(Authors’ note: hang up your damned cell phone and READ.)

But, like most people over the age of 50, we’ve had loved ones taken from us. We’re well aware of the pain, suffering, and sense of loss that accompanies such tragedies. Kaye, Scott’s wife of 29 years, died in July of 2002 after a long battle with cancer. Terry’s brother-in-law’s oldest daughter, Connie Schwitezer, died in 2001 while awaiting a double-lung/heart transplant. Connie was suffering from PPH, an incurable disease, and was only given two years to live when she was diagnosed at 16. Terry’s mother-in-law died while we were just getting started on this project in March of 2006. He spoke for the family at the funeral, and it was the hardest thing he ever had to do.

A few months after his wife died, Scott received a phone call at home for Sheridan Cox. Since she always used her middle name (Kaye) Scott knew that any call for Sheridan was from someone who didn’t know her, probably a telemarketer. Scott told the (obviously young) caller that Sheridan was deceased, to which the telemarketer responded: So do you know what time she’ll be home?

This was a defining moment—one of those times when you can give in to anger or cry about the unfairness of it all; or go with the hand you’ve been dealt. Kaye had a great sense of humor, and probably would have laughed herself; so Scott said: Well, that depends on whether or not you believe in eternal life.

From there, it was a pretty short step to finding humor in obituaries. There has always been a lot of interesting stuff to be found in these daily readings: from the exploits of WWII vets, to a scientist working on the U-2 spy plane. Terry even found one of a man named Su, who was survived by his daughter, Sue. Johnny Cash and Shel Silverstein would have been especially proud of that one.

Obits generally are rather simple. In the words of Sergeant Joe Friday, they "just state the facts. But some people just can’t state the relevant/important facts and leave it at that. They often treat the trivial as important, minutia as meaningful.

Life may not be fair, but it can be pretty absurd. At least, it can be amusing. As Will Rogers said, Everything is funny as long as it is happening to somebody else. Sam Peckinpah was a bit more jaded when he said, Life is awful. Ain’t it fun to watch.

However you take this compilation, just remember: we didn’t make this stuff up. We couldn’t. The spelling mistakes, syntax errors, run-on sentences and all the rest are repeated just as they were written. We haven’t given the last names in order to protect the deceased, but we haven’t changed what their families have written. Why should we? This is how they wanted it.

We did edit some obits for length, and removed some clichés (such as fought a courageous battle against…, was a loving father/wife and will be missed by all that knew them) that overwhelmed us after hundreds of mentions.

Anyway, as Woody Allen said in his movie Scoop: You’re deceased, but you shouldn’t be discouraged.

(Our comments, in the obits, are CAPITALIZED.)

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Terry is a retired high school teacher, part-time political activist, and full-time cynic. He and his wife, Pam, reside in Henderson, NV. He writes many angry letters to the editor of the Las Vegas Sun, most of which have to be rejected or seriously expurgated due to their profane nature. Acknowledging that avid is the most-used/over-used word in obituaries, Terry is an avid reader with limited handyman skills. He’s too busy reading about things he has no control over to learn how to fix things.

Scott Cox is a process-improvement consultant whose employer understandably prefers to remain anonymous. Go figure. He and his wife, Pat live in Phoenix, AZ. He is a Phoenix Suns fan with little hope that they will ever win a championship. He makes good scrambled eggs, but has fewer handyman skills than his older brother. He works crossword puzzles and takes pills for acid reflux. He did well on his last prostate exam. Terry and Scott share the same birthday (and same parents), weird sense of humor, and loathing of the Chicago Cubs. They are both short, but Terry is even more hair-impaired.

CHAPTER 1:

THE STRANGE/WEIRD/BIZARRE

From I Go Bye-Bye Brooklyn to Scotty Beams Up Terren

The only thing that saddens me over my demise is that

I shall not be here to read the nonsense that will be written about me. There will be lists of apocryphal jokes I never made and gleeful misquotations of words I never said. What a pity I shan’t be there to enjoy it.

Noel Coward

Our dad has told us many stories over the years about an oddball family who lived across the street from us in Missouri when we were kids. One dark and stormy night (always sets the stage for a story) dad was roused out of a sound sleep by a ringing phone. It was Mrs. Reese calling to say that her elderly father had died. She wanted to know if dad could come over and give her a hand" because her husband was out of town (he was a career military man). When dad got over there, Mrs. Reese wanted to know if he could put some new pajamas on the old man. When dad asked why, she explained that she thought the new ones would look better for the undertaker because they were striped.

That’s one of the first death stories we remember laughing at. Because, like dad, we found it just a little strange that someone would be worried about pajama styles rather than the fact that her father and quit breathing—permanently. (Or that her husband had another family somewhere else; that’s another story for another dark and stormy night.)

But strange as the Reese story is, it has nothing on the people remembered in this opening chapter. And just for the record, the dead have nothing on the living when it comes to oddity. In case you think otherwise, stand on The Strip in Vegas for five minutes.

It is probably best to read this first obit aloud. As Shakespeare said in Hamlet’s soliloquy to the players, it rolls trippingly off the tongue.

FRANK LITTLE AXE—99

Frank Grandpa Little Axe, 99, of Little, Axe, died Sunday, April 16, in Norman…Burial will follow at the Little Axe Family Cemetery…WHERE ELSE WOULD HAVE BEEN SUITABLE? Mr. Little Axe was born Feb. 17, 1907, in Little Axe (HOW SURPRISING) to Billy and Agnes Little Axe. He was raised in Little Axe and resided there his entire life of 99 years. WHERE ELSE WOULD HE HAVE GONE—LITTLE ROCK? He married Edna Little Charley in Little Axe…He was a member of the Cornerstone Baptist Church, where he mowed the lawn and did maintenance until he was 97 years old…He also enjoyed watching bull riding and Western movies. LITTLE BIG MAN WAS A PERSONAL FAVORITE…Surviving relatives include his daughter and son-in-law Lorene and Charles Little Jim of Little Axe; grandchildren Clint Jason and Lisa Little Jim of Little Axe, Dina Adele and Mike Bread of Little Axe, Chuck Little Jim of Little Axe, Phillip Steven and Pam Ellis of Albuquerque, N.M. THE LITTLE BLACK SHEEP OF THE LITTLE AXE FAMILY

PAUL—74

He enjoyed being known as the Painless Dentist. AS OPPOSED TO DR. PAIN. …Paul strongly believed in community service, and through the years served on boards, committees and task forces for organizations including the Chamber of Commerce, Arizona Country Club, Tau Kappa Epsilon Fraternity Delta Sigma Delta International Dental Fraternity Arizona State Dental Association, the Central Arizona Dental Society (WHAT? NO ASSOCIATION OF NORTHWEST PHOENIX DENTISTS?) Rotary International, Family Motor Coach Association, Southwest Golf Association, Elks USA, Mags Ham Bun Bunch (past president)… HERE’S A GROUP OF GUYS SO ANAL THEY COULDN’T MEET AT A LOCAL SANDWICH SHOP UNLESS THEY FORMALIZED THE PROCEEDINGS AND ELECTED OFFICERS. PLEASE! GUYS, JUST ORDER, TALK AND ENJOY. WE ARE CURIOUS AS TO WHO WAS THE WORTHY KEEPER OF THE GREY POUPON.

LESTER—91

Lester was very independent during the last 15 years (OBVIOUSLY HE WAS A LATE BLOOMER; HE DIDN’T BECOME INDEPENDENT UNTIL AGE 76.), doing his own housework, laundry, cooking, meds, and best of all, drove to the same McDonald’s every morning, 7 days a week for breakfast until January 17th, 2006. ONE HAS TO WONDER IF LESTER WAS EVER A MEMBER OF MAGS HAM BUM BUNCH, OR PERHAPS HE WAS WORKING ON ESTABLISHING AN EGG McMUFFIN CHAPTER.

SHIRLEY—78

She was…engaged four times but she never pulled the matrimonial trigger (or at least shot blanks)…In 1952 she married Howard. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MALFUNCTIONING MATRIOMONIAL TRIGGER? They lived happily ever after, at least until their divorce, and ever after…Shirley’s addendum to the old adage You have to stop and smell the roses: was You can never have too many roses… She lovingly and devotedly raised her son (along with any and every orphan" she could find), (SOUNDS LIKE SHE ACTIVELY SOUGHT THEM OUT), married and was a loving wife to Dow for 25 years. IF THE TRIGGER IS MALFUNCTIONING, HOW DO WE NOW HAVE HUSBAND #2?…Shirley was interested in everything but football…She hated inefficiency, prejudice, ignorance, and injustice, and fought for the underdog all her life. SOUNDS A BIT LIKE WONDER WOMAN Shirley had the ability to elevate the mundane to transcendent. WHEN SHE WASN’T PULLING THE MALFUNCTIONING MATRIMONIAL TRIGGER! She greeted each day with unbridled enthusiasm. She found unlimited delight in both the ordinary and the extraordinary; a great meal, a good bridge hand, talking (and talking AND talking) on the phone, a walk on the beach, a trip to New York, a gourmet meal at Tavern On The Green, (MONEY OBVIOUSLY WASN’T AN ISSUE) or a chili dog at Cosco…Shirley was quintessentially unconventional throughout her life, (UNCONVENTIONAL SIMPLY COULDN’T DESCRIBE HER) and her view of funerals was no exception. She never went to one, ever. She told all of her friends, I love you, but I’m not coming to your funeral, and you’re not coming to mine! SOUNDS LIKE IT WAS ALWAYS ABOUT SHIRLEY. She hated funerals, (REALLY?) but loved a good party…In lieu of flowers plan to attend her last birthday party with a bottle of champagne to toast a woman that truly broke the mold, broke all the records, (ANY SPECIFICS WE SHOULD BE AWARE OF?) broke half of the rules, broke stereotypes, hearts, the Bank of Monte Carlo (once) (WE DON’T RECALL HEARING ABOUT THAT EPISODE) and wind more than once. PLEASE NO CANDLES AT THE PARTY—JUST IN CASE SHIRLEY WAS HOLDING SOMETHING BACK FOR THE FINAL BLOW OUT. Shirley had a deep sense of spirituality, and a profound belief in an afterlife. Heaven has a new guardian angel, and God better shape up. ARE SHIRLEY’S FRIENDS THREATENING THE BIG GUY?

THOMAS—58

Tom was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota…He then lived and traveled extensively in Pembina County, ND with his family. TRAVELED EXTENSIVELY IN PEMBINA COUNTY, ND! NO PASSPORTS WERE REQUIRED. He distinguished himself as a superior trial attorney. Winning his fair share of unwinnable cases, Tom, known to his coworkers as The Senator, once won a murder case where the defendant had left his wife’s corpse in the marital bed and failed to remove it for 6 years. NORMAN BATES WOULD HAVE BEEN SO VERY PROUD. Tom gained an acquittal for his client, arguing, in addition to his client’s innocence of the murder, that Sometimes when you put things off (reporting the corpse) they get harder to do as time passes. WONDER IF HE MENTIONED THE STENCH. DOES THAT MEAN THAT TOM’S CLIENT TRULY HAD A JURY OF HIS PEERS? He was a member of a dying breed of attorney—compassionate, well educated and humble. He’d shrug off compliments about his service to his country and his clients and instead talk about his beloved dog Viva. IT’S PROBABLY GOOD THAT TOM WENT FIRST. Tom was a well-read raconteur (IS THERE ANY OTHER KIND?) who loved to quote Dickens. I don’t need new stories, he would often say, just a new audience. BET HE SAID THAT A LOT THROUGHOUT PEMBINA COUNTY, ND.

JACK - 82

Jack was honorably discharged (from the Air Force) in 1946. JACK WAS ONE OF THE FEW WHO COULD MAKE THAT CLIAM IN ’46. Jack went to work in the factory for Simmons Mattress Company repairing the heating mechanism in the blankets for the mattress. He was then promoted to the administrative desk and was later offered a position as a sales representative…Jack loved to eat and was always a dapper dresser. THAT OBVIOUSLY SERVED HIM WELL AS A SALES REP—UNLESS HE DRIBBLED SOME GRAVY ON HIS TIE. He also had an unyielding love of sports and diligently followed all of the teams, especially basketball and baseball, both of which he played during his younger years in high school. FUNNY HOW MOST OF US—ADULTS THAT IS—SPEND OUR YOUNGER YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL. MANY EVEN SPEND YOUNGER, YOUNGER YEARS IN ELEMENTARY SHOOL AND PRE-YOUNG YEARS IN THE WOMB…Jack was always eager to plan the meals and always suggested what to have for dessert; he had an incredible sweet tooth. SOUNDS LIKE THAT MIGHT BE ON HIS TOMBSTONE.

MARGARET—89

She also pursued the other great passions of her life: singing; gardening; her love of cats and dogs; collecting antiques; and exploring every nook and cranny of Cape Cod, where she had a second home. LOTS OF NOOKS AND CRANNIES ON THE CAPE. Her quick wit was legendary, as was her unique repertoire of colorful expressions. She may have been the last person to exclaim her dismay with the words, Gosh all fish hooks. OH, NO! THAT’S WHAT OUR PARENTS HAVE ALWAYS SAID WHEN