This whole thing started
years ago when Iworked at the San Diego Maritime Museum. I was development
and communications director there for 12 years.
The subject of death and dying is not a pleasant one.
And of course, everyone likes to put it off until they absolutely
have to deal with it.
But one day an older gentleman and friend, Bob Wright,
came into my office with a fresh approach to life's final act. He
handed me an envelope and said, "I'd like you to read this,
but promise me you won't laugh."
I opened it to find his obituary. I started to laugh.
But by the time he finished explaining his rationale, I was closer
to tears than laughter.
Bob explained to me that he had been with the organization
for 50 years. Over that time these historic old ships had become
his life, his passion. He had no children, and gave everything he
had to the museum and the ships.
Joseph
Ditler, creative director. Photo by Jack Aubrey
"I'd like people to know about my passion, and about
what I did with my life," he said. "Today, there are very few
people around here who remember my role in the museum's early days. In fact,
most consider me just a kindly old ticket taker, and these days they tend
to humor me instead of talk to me; tolerate me instead of engage me."
Bob's point sank home. I had been a journalist since 1977.
In the course of my work I had written hundreds of obituaries. At the
museum I had seen many an older gentleman fade from existence, slowly
and quietly, with no documentation of their exciting and productive lives
recorded anywhere.