Obituaries, "But wait what lurks there?"

Deserted bluebird box  along
backside of garden  

I have a habit of reading the obituaries, in the paper each day, not as necessary here where we do not know near the  people as when we lived in CA  for more than 40 years, but the  habit stuck.  The only reason we still subscribe to the daily newspaper is because Jerry reads it cover to cover with his pot of morning coffee.  I often do not read it until later in the day  or maybe even the next day or not at all.  But yesterday, as usual on a Sunday, I set with the local rag and the St Paul Pioneer Press which I pick up each week for more state level news and the reviews of plays, books, theater.. 

My friends father joked that he checked the obituaries first  thing each morning and if he did not see his name, he knew it was a good day to get on with the daily drill.  So yesterday afternoon after laundry, church, brunch and a nice walk in the cold outdoors, I was astounded when on the obituary page I  saw  my name, Patricia L Morrison!    I said to Jerry,  "Good Lord, I died!" and while he was tuned to football on the TV he said, "what?"  Well the woman  was older than me and lived  across the river in Wisconsin and in FL,  but sure enough there it was.  A very odd feeling, especially because it was a tiny paragraph, promising more later.  And then I said, "hey no body called to see if I'm here!"  Well  they'd seen me at church and after all the people who know me here know where I live and  my age, so the vitals did not match.  Still, don't you think someone might have commented?  A few week ago another Pat Morrison submitted a recipe for a Twinkies cake and several people commented on that, no it wasn't me.  But the obituary?  Not a word, today I laugh.
 

I understand that in in 1888, Alfred B. Nobel, inventor of dynamite, awoke to read his own obituary in the newspaper, a careless error made by  a reporter.  His brother had died, the death of the wrong brother was documented.  Nobel was shocked by reading his obituary that described him as “the dynamite king, the industrialist who became rich from explosives.” This  was his call to action, and he 

 resolved to change the course of his life, and to do something positive for society. He left his entire fortune to be awarded to individuals who have done the most for the benefit of humanity. The result was the Nobel Prize – five prizes awarded each year, the most notable of which is the Peace Prize.

I doubt I can top that, but it is an off putting feeling, ala Scrooge looking at the ghost of Christmas yet to be..  I had a doctor's appointment today and all is well, a simple  check up.  I forgot to mention to my  doc that I was reported dead but all evidence indicates every sign of life here.  We are packing up to head south in the motor  home and this will be a dandy story to share with friends along the way.