It’s peculiar when someone dies, to see their obituary photocopied and passed throughout an office, handing the 8 1/2″ by 11″  sheet of paper to co-workers. The black and white sheet of paper, copies of scratches and dirt from an uncleaned copy machine littering the words, the personal summary of a man’s life, the list of his accomplishments, a brief synopsis of his parent’s relationship to him and to eachother, an analysis of the effects of his experience carving the savannah of his wisdom – it’s all there in a three-inch column, amongst the stroies of other people’s lives like a literary graveyard, behind every story a grieving family with friends to match.

It’s difficult to see an entire man’s existence typed onto paper with ink that easily rubs off onto your hands like a ghost that haunts your home. Life and death…menial, common, and inevitable works of nature. What dfference is it, I guess. We’re meant to die either way but somehow I am not satisfied with that answer.

I emailed several friends, mostly writers, who I have asked to send me their obituary to help me create a positive place for people to read about eachother’s lives the way the authors hope to be remembered. I will add their responses as I recieve them.

I hope you enjoy this brief and new series entitled “Obituaries of the Living”. Please feel free to submit your own obituaries here:  thewhiskeydregs@gmail.com

Take care,

Carlos