A Little Off the Top: The good life

By Ethan Smith

I have to admit, I like obituaries.

That might sound like a morbid thing to say, but I really find them interesting. On the one hand, I know there’s a family grieving, but often times, I’d like to think they are celebrating the life of the person, although I know that’s hard to keep in mind when mourning the loss of a loved one.

The only frustration I feel at reading the obituaries that appear in our pages each week is that I often feel that we, the editorial staff, really missed out on some neat stories. There are so many interesting people who have lived here in the Mission Valley, and often, their obituary is the story that didn’t get told, until now.

I’m continually surprised at the many and varied experiences that people have had over the years, whether having a hand on working on a history-changing event — even a small part — or being involved in numerous community projects, businesses or service organizations. It gets me thinking about my own family’s obituaries, as well as my own.

When I contemplate a rich and full life, inevitably, my grandfather’s obituary is one of the more memorable in my life, if for the things left unsaid as much as what was presented. My mom’s father, Gordon “Chunk” Parkinson, was an interesting guy, to say the least. While he spent much of his humble life working in devotion to God as a missionary and church elder, he had many other roles, including serving as a dean of students, a chemistry and physics professor, and star football player for Erskine College in Due West, S.C.

He’s also the only guy I know who was drafted by a professional baseball team — and turned them down, to go into service for the Lord. True to his humble nature, I didn’t even find out that the Detroit Tigers wanted to sign my grandfather until much later in his life. Imagine, my grandfather could have played with Ty Cobb!

(I can just imagine the Tigers’ management, upon receipt of his letter, telling them that he was going to pursue his calling as a missionary instead of playing for them. I’d imagine they mentioned the Lord’s name several times, although not in the context that my grandfather would have liked.)

My grandfather was one of the best college athletes in the state of South Carolina at the time, lettering in several sports, and he even led the Flying Fleet to a 13-7 win over Clemson. To put this in perspective, that’s like one of our local high school teams beating the Griz. It was a game talked about for months afterward in the “college” town of Due West, where my mom’s family is from.

By the time he died, he had Ph.Ds in physics and chemistry, could speak Arabic fluently, and knew Latin, Greek and a host of other humanities-related subjects, in addition to his strengths in math and science. Despite rarely making more than $18,000 a year as a college professor, he managed to live a wealthy, full life due to his humble and giving nature.

Although my grandfather was a great man, and accomplished much, you don’t need to have multiple advanced degrees or lived in many foreign countries to have had a full life.

Inevitably, when I think about obituaries, I often contemplate what mine will say. Although I think careers can tell a lot about people, that’s usually only a fraction of the whole story, and not even the interesting part.

I’d like to be remembered for being a baseball umpire as much as anything else, because I take a lot of pride in trying to do the best job possible. I probably won’t rise much further in the ranks than where I’m already at, which is fine with me, but I plan on being one for years to come.

“He sure was wrong a lot, but he sold the wrong call well,” is how my fellow umpires would sum it up in my obituary.

I regret not learning a musical instrument, and a foreign language, although both are still within my reach if I put in the effort. My mom was one of those who believed that learning to play a musical instrument was something that everyone should do, but I didn’t stick with it when I was younger — to my detriment.

If I learn one or both, that will be in there. That’s a great accomplishment, in my book.

I love to read, and have a problem getting rid of books that I intend to read but don’t have the time to pick up. I’m guilty of “impulse buying” at libraries and used book stores, and then not having the time or interest to really get into them. But I’d like to be remembered for the hundreds of books I’ve really enjoyed, and the library I’ve built up. By the time it’s all said and done, I’ll probably have several thousand really good books.

I’ll donate them to charity when the Great Umpire in the Sky calls me out for the last time.

I’ll probably have some weird last requests, too. I’ll set up a scholarship fund for the student who was not the most popular, athletic or smartest kid in the class. It will be called the Normal Kid Scholarship, and the money has to be used to travel around for a year before the winner is allowed to enroll in higher education. Applicants must not be a letter winner in any sport, and have a GPA no higher than a 2.7, and must provide proof that they weren’t that popular.

There are probably a few more things that I’ll hopefully be remembered for before it’s all said and done, but that’s a good start. What do you think you will be remembered for?