AS A WRITER, a storyteller, I read obituaries. Doesn’t matter if the deceased is known to me or not. I find obits interesting for the stories therein.
Stories weren’t always part of obituary writing. Obit style has evolved since I graduated in 1978 with a journalism degree from Minnesota State University, Mankato. And that is a good thing. Today’s death notices are not just summaries of facts, but rather personalized in a way that helps the reader understand the person as a person. That holds value to those who are grieving and to those of us who hold no connection to the individual.
I need to backtrack for a moment and share that writing an obituary was my first writing assignment in Reporting 101. Although I’ve forgotten details about that long ago college course, I remember the professor stressing the importance of spelling names correctly. That carried through to all types of newspaper reporting. First reporting job out of college, I learned a source was Dayle, not Dale.
That MSU instructor also imprinted upon me the importance of obituaries. As I age, I find myself drawn more and more to reading obits. Too often now, I know the deceased. Recently, I found a gem in the obituary of Emmett Haala, 87, of Springfield (that would be Springfield, Minnesota), who died on February 28. His funeral is today.
It wasn’t the basic facts about Emmett that captivated me, but rather his interest in John Deere tractors. He, according to his obit, “lived and breathed John Deere.” Now to anyone with a rural connection, the idea of fierce tractor brand loyalty is familiar. This retired mechanic began his career at age 14 at Runck Hardware and Implement in Springfield, eventually opening Emmett’s Shop in 1970. He was a trusted mechanic who serviced all machinery brands, but favored John Deere.
That tidbit got me reminiscing and also contemplating the importance of open houses in rural Minnesota. Events that continue today. Emmett, his death notice read, shared many memories of John Deere Days at Runck Hardware and Implement. He “…enjoyed making hot dogs and coffee for the throngs of people attending and showing the newest John Deere movie.”
That was it. I was hooked. I attended John Deere Day at a farm implement dealership while growing up in southwestern Minnesota. While the event was a way for machinery dealers to get farmers inside their shops, the open houses were also a social gathering for rural folks. My siblings and I piled into the Chevy aside Dad and Mom for the 20-mile drive to Redwood Falls and John Deere Day.
Free food—usually BBQs, baked beans, chips and vanilla ice cream packaged in little plastic cups and eaten with a wooden spoon—comprised dinner (not lunch to us farm types). Maybe there were hot dogs, too, like at Emmett’s place of employment. Memories fade over the decades.
But I do recall the John Deere movies shown post meal at the theater in Redwood Falls. Sure, they were nothing but advertisements for “the long green line” of farm machinery. But to a kid who seldom set foot in a theater, the promotional films held all the appeal of a box office hit. Plus, there were door prizes like bags of seed corn and silver dollars. I never won anything. A cousin did.
And so all those John Deere memories and more—including the distinct pop of my dad’s 1950s John Deere tractor—rushed back. Putt, putt, putt. Emmett belonged to the Prairieland Two Cylinder Club. Nostalgia is powerful. So is the art of crafting an obituary. Many of today’s obituaries feature detailed personal stories, not simply superlatives. Stories that reveal something about the individual who lived and breathed and loved. Stories well beyond life-line basics. Stories of life. Stories that resonate, that connect us to each other. Stories like those of Emmett, who “lived and breathed John Deere.”
FYI: I recommend reading this guidebook to obituary writing by retired The Wall Street Journal obit writer James R. Hagerty: Yours Truly: An Obituary Writer’s Guide to Telling Your Story. Hagerty is the son of Marilyn Hagerty, columnist for The Grand Forks Herald. In a March 2012 “Eatbeat” column, Marilyn reviewed her local Olive Garden and gained instant internet fame.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
I like your view that our obituaries should be more than a list of facts. Everyone has a story. 🙂
Indeed, everyone has a story, Penny.
I may start reading obituaries….
Will you please write mine?
Ha. I haven’t even written mine. I have absolute confidence in your ability to craft a mighty fine obit. You can write. And you can tell stories.
Thanks Audrey. 🙂
I seem to be increasingly spending time skimming obituaries. It’s a delight to find one with a sense of humor. This was a viral favorite a few years ago; unfortunately, the funeral home no longer has it available. Perhaps viewers crashed their site. He spent his entire life pranking others. Now his family is sending him off with a comedic obituary | CNN
I sometimes think my funeral plans should specify that my remains be loaded onto a rickety wood hay rack, and hauled to the cemetery by the family John Deere Model G. My cousin restored the G, called my father and held the phone up to the engine. We all took a turn with the receiver and cracked a grin! There is no happier sound than that of the peppy, powerful Model G!
Although our family wasn’t John Deere-exclusive, we were big fans. I get why the John Deere Two-Cylinder Club of Facebook states, “Reminder to new members: We understand there are other tractors out there that aren’t fortunate enough to be green and yellow. I’m sure those of you who own them appreciate them as much as your Deeres. However this is a John Deere page, not a Farmall, Oliver, Case, or AC page etc. Posts of other tractors will be removed, we mean no offense to the person who posted this is a John Deere page and it will be kept that way.”
Thanks for taking the time to share all of this, including your personal affection for John Deere. A rickety hay rack sounds like a fine way to be transported to the cemetery.
I do love that they have become more about the story of a person and their life, rather than just the stats. there is really something special or fascinating about each person who has lived. how lucky you were to begin your journalism/writing career with this practice, where you learn not only about the style and methods of writing, but also about compassion for other people. thank you for sharing this amazing obit with us
You are welcome, Beth. I had some really fine journalism professors, specifically Mr. Shipman and Gladys Olson. They were old school, compassionate, the best of the best in journalism. They cared. Mr. Shipman even stopped to visit me at my first place of employment at a small weekly newspaper in rural Minnesota. Who does that? A man who cares deeply for the craft and those learning it.
that is so wonderful and rare
Yes, they were remarkable professors, who drove my passion for journalism via their personal care, support and excellent teaching.
Great post about love of all things John Deere. I’ve always been an International Harvester fan—- red rules. 😊
It’s interesting, isn’t it, how we lean to a particular brand. My dad had many tractor brands, including IH, but started with John Deere. It is the tractor I remember along with the B Farmall.
I think Midwest obits are different than other places. Or at least the Seattle area. My sister did NOT appreciate the interest I tried to add to Mom’s obit- she wanted facts and facts only. Boring. She thought the little facts and “color” I added were weird and inappropriate. Made for some tense moments but we figured it out. She got the boring obit and I wrote a ten minute eulogy that had the color!
It’s only in recent years that Midwest obits became more personalized, about the time newspapers started charging to print them. I bet you gave a wonderful eulogy filled with stories and lots of love.