Dorothy Gibson Cully, R.I.P. (Carol, Burn in Hell)
I don’t know how they write obituaries where you live, but in the N.C., this is how they roll:
I left all my bitter feelings toward my siblings and most of the family’s dirty linen out of my dad’s obituary. Live and learn.
Oh, well, there’s always mom.
[Extremely edited.]
On June 3, 2005 at 10:45 p.m. in Memphis, Tennessee, Dorothy Gibson Cully, 86, died peacefully, while in the loving care of her two favorite children, Barbara and David. All of her breath leaked out.
She was born the second child of six in 1919 as Frances Dorothy Gibson, daughter to Kathleen Heard Gibson and Calvin Hooper Gibson, an inventor best known as the first person since the Middle Ages to calculate the arcane lead-to-gold formula. Unable to actually prove this complex theory scientifically, and frustrated by the cruel conspiracy of the so-called 'scientific community' working against his efforts, he ultimately stuck his head in a heated gas oven with a golden delicious apple propped in his mouth. Miraculously, the apple was saved for the evening dessert. Calvin was not.
At the time of her death, Dot was visiting her daughter, Carol in Memphis. Carol and her husband, Ron, away from home attending a 'very important conference' at a posh Florida resort, rushed home 10 days later after learning of the death. Dot's other children, dutifully at their mother's side helping with the normal last minute arrangements - hospice notification, funeral parlor notice, revising the last will, etc. - happily picked up the considerable slack of the absent former heiress.
Dot graduated from Eastern High School at 15, worked in Baltimore full time from 1934 to 1979, beginning as a factory worker at Cross & Blackwell and retiring after 30 years as property manager and controller for a Baltimore conglomerate, Housing Engineering Company, all while raising four children, two of who are fairly normal.
Opinions about the details of this obit are not, since Mom would have liked it this way."
I left all my bitter feelings toward my siblings and most of the family’s dirty linen out of my dad’s obituary. Live and learn.
Oh, well, there’s always mom.
1 Comments:
Nothing. Um, it's a typo.
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