Nothing is more constant in the newspaper industry than the need to change what we cover, how we cover life and how we deliver all that to readers. Life writes our marching orders, and they’re never the same from year to year.
Yet in some respects, life doesn’t change at all. Neither do newspapers. Readers see that throughout the pages of the Star-Telegram, particularly in regard to the daily package of obituaries – some of the most hallowed and sought-after content on any given day.
Watchdog coverage and horrific developments may get the big headlines on Page One, but editors know that in their never-ending quest for a stronger connection with readers’ needs and interests, nothing connects with people more deeply than obituaries.
That’s why news of such passages is often noted on Page One and the covers of sections and is anchored every day in the local news section.
Beginning journalists learn early that readers revere obituaries. They are taught to treat obituaries with great care, aiming for tasteful tone and flawless accuracy in the many details, no matter whether the story is about a celebrity such as Peter Jennings or Barbara Bel Geddes or someone whom few people knew.
That’s what I was taught. Over the years, I’ve encountered the wisdom behind that coaching as I’ve lost parents, relatives and friends and have sought comfort in their obituaries the next day – published, ink-on-paper affirmation of their part in keeping the circle of life unbroken.
Recently, the lesson hit home like never before when Dale, my cherished wife of 31 years, passed away of metastatic breast cancer. I wrote Dale’s obituary with love – but mechanically, in less than a half-hour (on deadline, wouldn’t you know?), with family members as editors.
The words came quickly. I’d been thinking about them for a long time. Even though I’d joined Dale in focusing on positive expectations, I’d written her obit hundreds of times in my mind while cheering her on during her valiant duel with a monster she’d defeated once before.
Filing the story was second nature. Seeing it in print the next morning was cathartic, affirming and consoling, as were the kind and much-appreciated expressions from readers. So it is for many of us who lose a beloved partner and best friend.
An obituary gives us a moment in which we can hold up our loved one to the world with great joy and pride. Nowadays, we have means of sharing such a moment that extend far beyond the printed page. Technological advancements give us new ways to celebrate a person’s life more fully and with far greater scope and depth.
Obituaries that are published in the Star-Telegram become part of the paper’s Web site content. Paid obits receive a one-year online guestbook, allowing acquaintances around the world to share thoughts immediately or belatedly about the deceased that help to create a more detailed picture of the person’s legacy.
The guestbook also makes “e-hugs” possible. They may not feel as warm and soft as hugs and pats delivered in person, but they’re pretty darn comforting.
Basically, the obituary we read in the printed Star-Telegram, as important as that one item is to so many people, can be just part of a person’s final story. That’s only one of the Star-Telegram’s ways of acknowledging the importance of obituaries.
Every day, the newspaper supplements its obituary report with staff-written features that give readers a closer look at the lives of randomly selected people. Such people may not have been newsmakers, but as with everyone, they left stories to be told.
Additionally, one of the dearest parts of the daily newspaper now rides the wave of innovation in a special, elevated way, and there’s so much potential for even richer forms of expression. We can be sure that such potential will be explored and tapped, because reader passion for obituaries is a powerful and growing force.
Last year, the Star-Telegram published approximately 15,000 obituaries in its news and Classifieds columns, according to Marsha Ammons, a copy editor/writer on the obituary desk. So far this year, she said, the paper has published nearly 10,000 obituaries.
Those numbers don’t begin to measure obituaries’ impact when one considers how many family members, friends and colleagues are touched on a personal level that no other content can reach.
Much is written about the challenges that newspapers face in retaining and growing readership in this age of fragmenting media, but not much is said about one of our oldest and surest lifelines: obituaries.
Newspapers will meet the challenge, but whatever we do, we must always honor the dead.
