Simple Man
Take your time, don’t live too fast
Troubles will come and they will pass…
And don’t forget, son there is someone up above…
And be a simple kind of man…
Be something you love and understand..
Be a simple kind of man
Forget your lust for the rich man’s gold
All that you need is in your soul…
All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied
And be a simple kind of man…
Be something you love and understand…
Be a simple kind of man
Don’t worry, you’ll find yourself
Follow your heart and nothing else…
All I want for you is to be satisfied…
(Simple Man – Lynyrd SkynyrdAnd be a simple kind of man…
Be something you love and understand…
Be a simple man kind of man
I decided to be real classy and subscribe to the New York Times. I found myself this morning falling into an old habit that I’ve had for years when reading the newspaper. The obituaries – have to read them first – gotta know who died.
It started with the NW Iowa Review, then Remsen Bell and the LeMars Sentinel. Then progressed to the Sioux City journal and whatever the Orange City newspaper was called. The Kalamazoo Gazette went too far down hill, so I quit reading that.
Anyway, I don’t even know if those newspapers even exist anymore because they were from such small towns, but I always read the obituaries. I either knew the person because they frequented the grocery store I worked at, or they were a friend’s grandma, or my neighbor’s cousin. Somehow, someway, I knew the person who passed away. For some reason it felt important to me that I know this and that I pay some type of homage to them in my heart.
So back to the NYT. Today was the first day I read the obituaries. Here’s what I noticed: everyone who’s obituary was published was pretty high up on the social and financial ladder of the greater New York City area. They were CEOs, executives, medical doctors, artists famous in their field, renowned professors,
Not one simple man, save for the Holocaust survivor who was allotted 2cm of text.
The kind of obituaries I am drawn to are those of the simple man – the farmers, teachers, beauticians, truck drivers, veterans, waitresses, dads, moms, sons, daughters. I want to hear the stories of their lives, not a list full of degrees and awards, where vacation homes are located and on and on.
This leads me to some questions I guess.
If you are a simple man living in the Bronx, too simple to make the cut for an NYT obituary, where does your life story go? How do people remember you? And how is it that even in death those who, while living were high up on the social and financial ladders, still are treated as superior to the simple man?
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