DEATH CERTIFICATES and BURIAL RECORDS : WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?

In modern times the burial record is usually spawned from the mortuary that prepared the body for burial or cremated it.  The burial record will usually give information such as what cemetery, the name of a minister or priest or rabbi who conducted a ritual, and some other basic information. It is not a governmental civil records but the burial record and the death certificate seem to lean on each other. 

A death certificate is a governmental - civil report on what the person died of, the name of a doctor who had been treating that person or if an autopsy was performed.  It will often include the name of a spouse or next of kin, and don't be shocked but some people did not know the maiden name of their own mother!

Step one is to find a death certificate, as possible. Depending on location you might have to swear you are the spouse or child of the person who died.  But privacy laws vary and these records are being loaded into databases based on those privacy laws.

Yes, go ahead and check a TOMBSTONE PROJECT.

Step two is to contact the cemetery named and ask them for the burial record.  You might start by asking them for the plot location in advance of a visit.

Remember : Find A Grave TM and other such projects are TOMBSTONE PROJECTS.  There are more burials in that cemetery than the tombstones. Consider that:

There was never a tombstone or the cemetery is one that does not allow them.

That family members may have been buried in with an earlier burial that the tombstone does not include.

That family plots may not include the names of all the people buried in the plot.

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A MODERN OBITUARY FOR AN UNMARRIED CHILDLESS MAN : CELEBRATING THE LIFE OF A NMNK

The unmarried and childless are often enough forgotten on genealogy charts and in family histories, despite the fact that it is also often those persons who were available to other family members when needed for child care, parental care, and financial help too. The Never Married No Kids person, without the obligation towards a spouse or offspring, is sometimes the person who is gets an education or moves away and has time to develop a career when others in the family have joined the status quo of married with children and the work-a-day world. 

I make every effort to include NMNK people in my charts and stories. Perhaps the brother of grandma is not one's genetic line but perhaps he was the one who cared for her when their parents died.  Great Aunt may have been called a spinster in her time and maybe she was lesbian or had been raped as a girl and had no interest in men. Or maybe cousin Honor was mentally slow but she was very much part of the family. Whatever the case, it was Great Aunt who hosted the Thanksgiving Family Reunions and always had some advice for a niece or nephew. We really do need to celebrate their lives too.

I recently came across an obituary in a sea of Covid-related obituaries of a young man and rejoiced in the wording of this tome.  It is so far distanced from the usual obituary that is either matter of fact or dripping in religious sentimentality and wording.

I'm changing the names and some of the details here but goes:

*****

SMITH, David John

David John Smith, 54, actor, traveler, educator, of Los Angeles, passed away Monday, January 3rd, 2022.  He was graduate of Valley College and UCLA.  He went on to earn an MFA in Theatre at the University if Michigan and later in life earned a Masters in Education.  Acting was his love from a very early age.  He performed on stage from the time he was in kindergarten and moved into film in adulthood. David began teaching in Los Angeles and took great joy in teaching children and taking part in shaping their lives for the future.  David loved his fur babies and will be reunited with his puggies,  Pretty, Spot, and Rover and many other furry friends he had through the years.  David leaves behind his parents,  John and Mary Smith, his sister, Nancy Jones, and his nephew Jack all of Detroit, Michigan, his dear friends Matty Johnson, Annie Mayer, Larry Larson, and Derik Shapiro, his kitty, Samson, and many close friends all over the world. A memorial service will be held at a later date.

*****

The original obit included a nice photo of the man who had recently passed away.

C 2022  Ancestry Worship Genealogy BlogSpot

PROCESSING GRIEF?

PRACTICE LOVE!

You loved someone - maybe for years -
You know how to love -
Use that love now to love a pet - foster or adopt -
Love the planet - ecology -
Contact people in your extended family who you didn't have enough time for earlier in your life -

HONOR YOUR LOVED ONES
Write down a favorite family stories
or Create a Scrapbook -
Continuing their special project or work (their garden, their charity.)

IT'S OK to FORGET YOURSELF and your GRIEF and
have a good day, laugh, notice how beautiful it is outside.

DEATH and TAXES : A 95 YEAR OLD FRIEND DIES AFTER A LONG and FULL LIFE

About a decade ago, I made friends with a neighbor, I'll call George.
Well, first I made friends with the widow of his best friend, a poet who liked to take after dinner walks around my neighborhood.  I met her, liked her, she wanted to copyright her poetry and we started talking about that.  I began to visit her at the Assisted Living where she was living.  I'll call her Marge.

Marge had only one grandson to visit her, having lost her son, and having a daughter with a serious mental illness that prevented any real relationship.  Her grandson did his best but was working full time and not feeling so hot himself. 

Marge introduced me to George.  George and his wife, who had been childhood sweethearts, and Marge and her husband had been friends for years and when George's wife, who had been his childhood sweetheart died, he went into a deep depression. 

When they'd given up their houses for Assisted Living, they picked one of the swankier ones, and for some time they barely needed any of the Assistance.  It was more than no one felt like cooking or making the beds anymore.

When Marge finally explained her situation to me, I offered to pick up things from the store that she might need when her grandson couldn't.  She held back from taking me up on it.  She just needed company. I started making mini visits with her, usually on my way to or back from work.


I learned she liked mint hard-tac candy but when I offered to bring her some she said I should not and if I did, she would never speak to me again.  I worked till 7 and would call her every night when I got off to see how she was.  I knew she had been to the hospital a few times but it wasn't until another resident whispered to me that she actually had colon cancer and it had been decided that she not know, that I realized she wouldn't be on this earth for long.

One night I called her a little after 7, and she was whispering into the phone.  She said that she was in trouble and that no one at the front desk had been summoned when she rang.  "I'll be right there,"  I said.  And I must have flown on a broomstick because before you could say Boo, I was in the kitchen finding the desk attendant having a long personal conversation on the phone.  "Get off that phone this minute,"  I said,  "Do you not know that Marge is sick and has been waiting for someone to go up to her room?" 

The desk attendant did hang up at once (and I've since wondered about my sudden authority)  Then I said, "Has her doctor been called?"  The desk attendant said yes, but it was a lie, which I found out when I demanded that the doctor be called again, she called back, and I spoke with her.  An appointment was made for her in 2 days.

Then I went up to Marge's room for the first time.  Like most Assisted Living rooms this one had the basics, and her possessions had been pared down to a few family photos.  She was in bed.  The first thing she said to me is "Where is my mint hard-tac!"

"You said you would never speak to me again if I brought you some!

"Well I changed my mind."

In the bathroom, Marge had left her Depends. She told me that it had taken her about a half hour to crawl back across the floor and hoist herself into the bed.
I told her to get settled in.  Then I put on the television and searched for a good station.  There was a Pavaroti concert on.

"Oh I love Pavaroti!"  she said.  And she rested back to just listen, with a slight grin on her face.

I left the room, and downstairs another resident told me that Marge had let the staff know that I was like a daughter to her and that's why I was now allowed in her room.
The next day after work I made my usual call, and found out that Marge had died in the middle of the night.

I may have been the last person to talk to her.

Her grandson came and took her few possessions away.  If there were ever a memorial service, I never heard about it.

But three days later, as I was walking down the street, I saw her face with a huge smile in my mind's eye, and I knew that she had been ready, willing, and able to pass into the next life and that she had made it to heaven.

This left George more alone than ever.
When I would walk past the Assisted Living on my way somewhere, I would see him sitting outside, and I went and said hello to him.  I told him that Marge had really admired him.

One day he decided the heck with the swanky Assisted Living and moved not far away, to one smaller and more humble.  It cost less, the food wasn't so good, but he thought they took good care of him.  The real problem was that he was one of the few people in this place who not only had his wits but who also liked to be opinionated and debate a little, and that there was no one else to talk to.
Oh, he tried their little Bible study - that was enlightening - but he could skip bingo and soap operas on the TV. 

George fought his depression by participating in writing classes and theatre outings with other seniors, and his one child who lived not too far away got him a personal computer, an e-reader, and a few other gadgets, so that he was up on his technology and could read his favorite genre - detective novels - with less strain on his eyes.  He managed to read over 60 of them when he got bad news about his eyesight.  This tweaked the depression, and he started saying his next move was Oregon where suicide was legal!

My friendship with George was much different than the friendship I'd had with Marge.  We talked about writing, but he preferred politics.  An ardent Democrat, George died before he could vote for Hilary Clinton in the California Primaries, and no doubt has been lucky to miss the antics of Presidential Candidate Donald Trump.  George had made it through the Great Depression as a ditch digger, married his childhood sweetheart after his service in World War II, had worked in aerospace but had lived past his retirement savings, and was the esteemed patriarch of a small but loving family.

Sometimes months would go by and I wouldn't have contact with George, but then I'd call or go visit.  He continued to claim that he couldn't get around but could be hard to get because he was so often out!

One day I heard on the radio that there had been a violent crime at the store right next to this Assisted Living, and I knew that the more mobile residents went in there to get themselves snacks and drinks.  The whole town was shocked.  I decided to visit George on my way home and got there right before his dinner time.  Though George claimed to be bored with most of the other residents and opted out of so called activities, he had a few woman friends who loved to have their meals with him at the table - a man!  George looked white, the only time I had ever seen him looking sick, and told me that he had just returned from two months in the hospital.

"So that's why I wasn't able to get ahold of you.  Tell you what, I think I will call you or come by here again when you're up to it to talk to you.  How did they treat you at the hospital?"

"Terrible!" he growled.

I didn't believe that, but I knew he was in a terrible mood.

Two days later I called and was told that his daughter had come and moved him out. He had been put in a hospice.

I called her.

"When did you see him and talk to him?"

"Just two days ago!"

"We had just taken him out to dinner.  It was like you said.  He had clarity.  But now he doesn't know where he is and he can't recognize me."

Sam died two days after that."

I wasn't the last person who talked to him.  Just the last person who had talked with him where he had his wits.

He was 95 years old.

The other day I saw his face in my minds eye. 

Mom used to say, "Two things never change.  Death and Taxes."


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THE IMPORTANCE OF GOOD - BEST - GIRLFRIEND - ESPECIALLY IN SENIORHOOD - KEEPING THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT

This morning I ran into "Bette" the best friend of "Ethel."  She was on her way to meet Ethel and accompany her to a doctor's appointment. 

Ethel is never married and childless, living in the family stead for the last 75 years,  with one brother on the east coast who comes out to visit once a year.  At this late stage in her life Ethel simply does not think she can adjust to life in a small new England town moved in or near her brother, especially because of the harsh weather there, and also feels, rightly so, that she would miss the many social advantages she has living on a fixed income here.

With our increasing population of unmarried, never married, and childless people, it is becoming more and more important for  people - especially seniors - to have best friend.  It's my suggestion that while friends are not part of your genealogy project, certainly a best friend is part of a family history, or personal history/memoir project. I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO SEE THE MENTION OF BEST FRIENDS IN OBITUARIES.

It's often said that we do not choose our family and can't be blamed for our relatives, though some reincarnationists would disagree, and that's usually the case when it comes to bosses and coworkers too. 

But you choose your friends.

Bette and Ethel originally met a church that neither of them goes to any more, though they go to another. Bette has a disabled son who she has been the lone caregiver of for years and is still working part time while Ethel has been on disability income since midlife.  The two go here, there, and everywhere together - lunches at a senior center, local museums on free days, shopping, and doctor's appointments.  This morning Bette, bless her, told me that she calls Ethel every morning and every night.

In case you're wondering, neither woman is of lesbian nature.  But it could be said that they act as husband and wife, living separately, together.

So here is another, real story of women's friendship that is a little closer to my home.

Walking my dog I got to know several neighbors, including "Este."  She lives in a large old single apartment with one pit bull, one scruffy little dog, one enormous white cat, and until recently two roommates, a married couple.  She has lived in the same place for over 20 years and with rent control this is what she can afford in her retirement.  Of course the couple both work and are gone most of the day, and they are gone a lot socially too, but recently the wife went to live elsewhere.  That left Este and, we'll call him "Mickey" the motorcycling riding fifty-something man who works full time.

A few months back Este got pneumonia and had to go into the hospital and then a nursing facility.  Mickey showed up to visit and she wrote out rent and utility checks.  He was on his motorcycle on his way to the landlords to pay the rent with the check when he was in a bad accident.

Enter, "Sharon," Este's best friend.  Sharon visited Este at the hospital every other day and when Este wanted and needed some of her things from the apartment, like her own nightgowns, of course Sharon went with her key to pick things up.  That's when she saw eviction notices on the door.  The pets, sadly, had not eaten in days.  Now Este, as stated, had paid her rent on time for 20 years but this landlord was going to evict her anyway.  (You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.)  It was then that Sharon - and Este - realized something was wrong.  What had happened to the rent check and Mickey?

Sharon contacted the landlord, who wanted his money, money she could not come up with.  She explained that Este was in a nursing home temporarily and that she had written out the rent check and handed it to Mickey; she begged for time.  Sharon went on FACEBOOK and that way learned that Mickey was hospitalized and in need of prayers.  She went to the hospital to see him, where he lay in a coma.  She went to the place where his motorcycle was impounded, found the rent check and then delivered it to the landlord, who backed off the eviction- with only a day to spare!  In short, because of Sharon's devotion to her best friend she saved her from being a homeless senior citizen.  She now went to the apartment every day to walk and feed the animals.

I know that if you've read this far you want more of the story.  Este did return home well but with Mickey, who was now conscious, in the hospital and not working, she was still not sure that she could keep the place.  Mickey even told her that he wasn't sure if he would make it home or back to work in time.  Mickey's coworkers DONATED THEIR VACATION TIME to his recovery so that he would not loose his job.  He WAS able to make it back to work, not on his motorcycle, but in a van for the disabled, and keep his job.  Weeks into this physical therapy, he is still not able to ride it, but he wants to.  His best friend comes over on Sundays and they give it a try.

Bless Sharon!

Keeping the Holiday Spirit

Christine


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ARE HOMES THAT PEOPLE DIED IN DEVALUED?

DIED IN HOUSE . COM SITE

At "Died in House" you pay to get the details on who, if anyone, died in your house.   You might find out someone died in their own bed in your bedroom.  You might find out there was a murder or a fire.  DOES THIS REALLY DEVALUE A HOME when it's up for sale?

JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE DIED IN A HOUSE (something that used to be very common before the hospital or hospice became the place to go and die) DOESN'T MEAN THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED, but these days people from many cultures, including our own New Age culture, are concerned about BAD VIBES.

And if a house has bad vibes, what can you do about it?

You can have the home blessed by a priest.  You can do Feng Shui or maybe burn sage and candles and make up your own ritual.  Of course this means you are telling any ghosts or entities (orbs anyone?) that they must go so you think or believe they are there.  If you read around this subject you'll learn that psychics think The Other Side is not so far away from us at all.  One psychic says you can tell if they are earth bound or on The Other Side by how high up they are.  See a ghost walking on the same floors you do?  Then they are earthbound.  A few feet up?  Not!

Is it all total superstition?  After all there are millions of people on this earth who are going to die - somewhere.  For a person who is terminally ill to pass on in their own home is often their last wish.  I think it would be mine!

C 2013-2025 Ancestry Worship Genealogy BlogSpot

FINDING FAMILY HISTORY TREASURE IN NEWSPAPER DATABASES

Using a search feature to mine information from old newspapers can be a lot of fun and reward you with information you never thought you could get your hands on.

Consider that obituaries, engagement and wedding notices (and photos!) and that this information can help you link to other records which may be more recent and get you past the 70 year wait due to privacy laws, which we all agree need to be in place for the protection of the living.

A draw-back.  Misspelled surnames and this time it's not about bad handwriting.  One family I research had about 12 different spellings to the surnames as they were reported - birth, death, engagement, wedding, and even one family member who had been arrested in a newspaper, small but the only paper in the Capital of that county.  I finally figured it out.  The paper didn't have enough letters to TYPE-SET the pages.  So in this case there must have been extra O's!

THE DEAT BEAT by MARILYN JOHNSON - THE WORLD OF OBITUARY WRITERS EXPOSED! BOOK EXCERPTS

THE DEAT BEAT by Marilyn Johnson
Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs, and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries

You're going to love this one because it is sad, funny, and true.
Marilyn Johnson explores the world of Obituary Writers, and here is an excerpt from page 117.

"What does it take to be a good obituary writer? Reporting skills, life experience, and something I can't quite pin down - an ability to weigh someone's life and accomplishments historically, in the context of the times. A good obit writer has to communicate the significance of a person, a place, an era. Sense of humor? It's a good survival skill, and it adds a lot to the pleasure we take in some writers' work, but I don't think it's essential. Neither is empathy. As for "style," that's also optional. What it takes to be a good obituary writer is an ability to write well, to capture a person with economy and grace, and work in the hurricane of emotion that swirls around the newly dead."

Examples of great obits that capture the imagination of the reader and bring the recently deceased to life one more time abound in this book. Examples come from Great Britain and the United States. More you get to meet some of the best obit writers - journalists dedicated to the research - interviewing - as well as turn of phrase. Jim Nicholson, who did plenty of newspaper work as an investigative reporter before he started writing obits says, "There aren't any boring people; there are just boring questions." He was once a broken-down journalist who learned how to get his scoops by scoping out the beat - mortuaries - neighbors.

Here's a funny one for you from page 49

"Selma Koch, a Manhattan store owner who earned a national reputation by helping women find the right bra size, mostly through a discerning glance and never with a tape measure, died Thursday at Mount Sinai Medical Center. She was 95 and a 34B."

And from page 159 from a writer named McKie, who ran an obit prematurely....

"I apologize unreservedly to our readers for having mislead them. More importantly, I apologize to Mrs. Ritter. I am genuinely delighted she is still with us - I came to like her a lot while preparing her obituary for the page.

She may even have the good luck to follow Cockie Hoogterp, whose premature obituary The Daily Telegraph published in 1938. After 50 years, during which she sent back all her bills with the word "Deceased" scrawled across them, it was referred to again in the newspaper. She then wrote in to say, "Mrs. Hoogsterp wishes it to be known that she has not yet been screwed into her coffin."

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THANKS TO VOLUNTEERS LOTS OF GENEALOGY INFORMATION IS FREE ON THE INTERNET

This week I looked into the LUZERNE COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA genealogy offerings. I was really impressedwith the obituaries that volunteers have uploaded of those who DIED IN MINING ACCIDENTS. These on -line obits have details as to how each miner died.