Dear Smiley: I’ve read a few letters in your column recently about obituaries, and have been waiting for another reader to pick up the thread and run with it.
This subject had been on my mind for a while before those letters appeared, so I decided to write my thoughts about obits.
I have attended entirely too many funerals lately, sometimes three in one week, and the commonality in most of the obits seems to be, other than a deceased person’s name, the description of the one who has passed on.
Have you noticed that the deceased are all “wonderful, loving, kind, beautiful” people, and they “lived life to the fullest?”
The obits in The Advocate and my local paper, The Daily Review, make me wonder what happens to those other people.
You know: the couch potatoes who are the mean, the bad, and the ugly.
DIANE T. MARTIN
Time and money
Dear Smiley: Standing in line at the post office, a senior citizen behind me let a state trooper go ahead of him, remarking, “I’ve got more time than money.”
His phone rang, and he related to the caller his impending trip to New York and on to Switzerland.
I could not help myself:
“Looks like he has more money than time,” I remarked to the trooper.
Dear Smiley: About two recent column topics:
In the “ancient memory” department, remember when a “party line” pertained to a telephone and “two bits” meant 25 cents?
When my schoolteacher daughter told her grammar school class, as they complained about something, they sounded like a “broken record,” the class didn’t get it.
In the “kitchen catastrophe” department, our favorite kitchen catastrophe was the result of us purchasing 151 proof rum 51 years ago on our honeymoon in Monterrey, Mexico.
When we got home we tried it, and realized it was way too potent for us to drink.
My wife decided to experiment with baking a rum cake, and poured the potent rum into the mixture that was then placed in a preheated oven.
After a little while the rum cake exploded in the oven.
Dear Smiley: Your recent “kitchen confessions” reminded me of a “Share a little tea with Goldie” segment from the classic Smothers Brothers television show.
“I have a cooking tip,” Goldie said. “If your soufflé boils, call it something else.”
Vive la différence!
Dear Smiley: As the years pass I have come to regard two columns in The Advocate as containing the most important information.
Your column and the obituary page are the ones I always check first.
Monday I was delighted to see longtime friends Mona Cancienne and T. Med Hogg both in your column, and not the other.
Dear Smiley: After reading about a hard of hearing person, I thought of my husband and two incidents which took place recently:
The other day I said, “The sky is the prettiest I have ever seen.”
He asked, “What about a jar of Vaseline?”
Another day I commented on something somebody “said in fun.”
He asked, “What about the setting sun?”
It keeps us laughing — well, it keeps ME laughing, but he can’t hear me anyway.
Dear Smiley: In the ’80s several of my friends, my younger sister Gwen and I, all students of French, were amused by “faux” product advertisements.
I suspect that the “Madison Avenue” of faux ads was a stretch of Chef Menteur ( Chief Liar ) Highway in New Orleans East.
Dear Smiley: The article about the LSU Memorial Tower in the Feb. 24 Advocate, opposite your column, reminded me of the time, almost 55 years ago, when the editor of the LSU Centennial Reveille told his 18-year-old photographer to go get some photos of the tower for the Reveille.
I think my climb up the tower was considerably more exciting and scenic than the one described by LSU electronic technician Dusty Magby though, because the tower had no walls!
“The masonry walls had been removed for a centennial renovation project.
Only the steel girders and staircase remained.
Dear Cary: And as I recall, you did a fine job. I also understand that the editor of that 100-page Centennial Reveille is not only still a distinguished journalist, but an all-around nice (and modest) guy. Handsome, too...
Write Smiley at Smiley@theadvocate.com . He can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.