My two-cents worth and then some. An online journal by LP Brown.
I occasionally hear people wondering aloud about why other people write messages to the dead. Those who question the act say it is irrational because, they reason, the departed cannot read the notices directed to them. But open any daily newspaper to the Obituaries page and you will likely find “In Memoriam” tucked among the Death Notices. Those sentimental ads containing poems, acknowledgement of anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions give credence to the Latin phrase which means “in the memory of.”
Grief is a strange animal and we all react to it in our own unique way. Consider funerals for instance. They are certainly no laughing matter – but with all due respect – some of us can recall at least one funeral that had comic relief.
Imagine a pastor has enthusiastically rendered the eulogy and is seated in the pulpit, dabbing his sweaty forehead with a folded white handkerchief. The senior choir, looking solemn in their funeral robes, is swaying side-to-side with the precision of a pendulum clock, as they croon the fourth stanza of a long, tear-jerking hymn. Amazingly, cousin Grace who is sitting in the pews, jumps to her feet and lets out an earsplitting scream. Her shoulder-shaking sobs resonate throughout the church as people seated nearby gently pull her back onto the bench and try to calm her. Meanwhile, across the aisle, another woman leaps up. Spreading her arms toward Heaven she snaps her head back, inadvertently knocking off her wide-brimmed, peacock feather hat, sending it onto the lap of the person behind her. Her own blood-curding wails fill the air, as white-uniformed ushers carrying Jesus paper fans rush to aid both women.
Switch your mental channel to another, less dramatic service. It is equally as reverent, but more upbeat. A local band follows the brief eulogy with a performance of Kirk Franklin’s Brighter Day, and some family members and guests take turns making a joyful noise as they share laugher and humorous anecdotes about the deceased, celebrating a buoyant home going for their loved one.
All things considered, it is understandable that heavyhearted souls express the loss of a loved one in their own way. Some place flowers annually on a gravesite or toast with a shot of wine, others write In Memoriam.
I occasionally hear people wondering aloud about why other people write messages to the dead. Those who question the act say it is irrational because, they reason, the departed cannot read the notices directed to them. But open any daily newspaper to the Obituaries page and you will likely find “In Memoriam” tucked among the Death Notices. Those sentimental ads containing poems, acknowledgement of anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions give credence to the Latin phrase which means “in the memory of.”
Grief is a strange animal and we all react to it in our own unique way. Consider funerals for instance. They are certainly no laughing matter – but with all due respect – some of us can recall at least one funeral that had comic relief.
Imagine a pastor has enthusiastically rendered the eulogy and is seated in the pulpit, dabbing his sweaty forehead with a folded white handkerchief. The senior choir, looking solemn in their funeral robes, is swaying side-to-side with the precision of a pendulum clock, as they croon the fourth stanza of a long, tear-jerking hymn. Amazingly, cousin Grace who is sitting in the pews, jumps to her feet and lets out an earsplitting scream. Her shoulder-shaking sobs resonate throughout the church as people seated nearby gently pull her back onto the bench and try to calm her. Meanwhile, across the aisle, another woman leaps up. Spreading her arms toward Heaven she snaps her head back, inadvertently knocking off her wide-brimmed, peacock feather hat, sending it onto the lap of the person behind her. Her own blood-curding wails fill the air, as white-uniformed ushers carrying Jesus paper fans rush to aid both women.
Switch your mental channel to another, less dramatic service. It is equally as reverent, but more upbeat. A local band follows the brief eulogy with a performance of Kirk Franklin’s Brighter Day, and some family members and guests take turns making a joyful noise as they share laugher and humorous anecdotes about the deceased, celebrating a buoyant home going for their loved one.
All things considered, it is understandable that heavyhearted souls express the loss of a loved one in their own way. Some place flowers annually on a gravesite or toast with a shot of wine, others write In Memoriam.
Sometime during the 1970’s, I saw Ntozake Shange’s feminist era play for Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf (sic). The production had an impressive run on Broadway and won a Tony award. Because of my familiarity with the play, I decided that I had to see Tyler Perry’s movie, because I could not for the life of me figure out how he could dramatize a play comprised primarily of women reciting poetry and create a quality dramatic production. Well, OMG! I saw the movie and cannot stop saying OMG! My high-spirited reaction could be the result of having seen the play and being familiar with the script. Anyone who did not see the play might have a less enthusiastic reaction and they might not understand that some of the lengthy monologue spoken by several of the women in the movie is stanza straight out of the play. But I think that any mature woman who goes to see the movie whether or not she saw the play can definitely relate to some of the characters or knows someone who is like one of the women. Many props to Tyler Perry. The New York Times review referred to Tyler’s film as “a thunderous storm of a movie.” It is Tyler’s best movie yet. Two thumbs up for him. He pulled it off in a big way.