Dale Adams has an unusual hobby—one that has brought meaning and perspective to his life while also honoring those who have gone before. Dale reads and preserves obituaries.
As something of a history buff, he discovered an online archive of old newspapers a few years ago. Now he finds obituaries in these newspapers—most from the 19th century—and uploads them to the family history website FamilySearch.org. It’s a quiet act of service for people he doesn’t even know, and it creates a more permanent and public record of their lives. Many times, he has found that the obituary noting a person’s death was the only documented trace that he or she ever lived.
Sound bite: “It’s humbling that so many of us when we die, we don’t leave any footprints at all. It makes me feel sad that a person might live 80 or 90 years and might be a coal miner or a sheep herder…[with] no letters, no personal remembrances at all.”
So, Dale is trying to change that. So far, he has uploaded around 30,000 obituaries—and counting. In fact, the pandemic gave him time to increase his pace. And, to his surprise, Dale has learned that he’s performing a service not just for the deceased but also for their descendants.
Sound bite: “About once a week, sometimes more, I’ll get a telephone call. Someone has seen that I’ve added a death notice to a relative’s file, and they call to see how much else I know. They think I’m an immediate relative. I tell them that’s all I know, and the next thing you know we’ve been on the phone for an hour. One thing the pandemic has impressed on me is how many people, I think mostly elderly people, are just desperately lonely.”
Dale’s simple act of service has shown that we all long to connect, to remember and be remembered. And in that sense, none of us is truly alone.[1]
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Have you ever noticed how we tend to think about a person’s life differently after he or she is gone? Suddenly, things that seemed so urgent, so important, seem to fade in time.
For example, our obituaries will probably not list how much money we made, the size of our house, or what kind of car we drove. Instead, what remains, what lasts in the memory of our loved ones, is the way we’ve lived our lives, the people we’ve helped, the service we’ve given, and the love we’ve shown.
Young man in 20s: “My family will often sit around for hours and talk about all our funny family memories growing up. We laugh and laugh and just enjoy remembering.”
Man, 60s: “The older I get, the more I appreciate learning about those who have gone before me. I feel so grateful for my parents and grandparents and my extended family. I think of them often and I remember them.”
Woman, 40ish: “I love going to the cemetery and putting flowers on the graves of my loved ones. When I was young, I didn’t think it was important, but now it really helps me to remember them and tell my children about them. So many of the blessings we have today would not be possible without the people in our family history.”
[1] See Lee Benson, “Obituaries Have Added Zip to His Life—and Helped with Navigating the Pandemic,” Deseret News, Mar. 27, 2022, deseret.com.
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May 29, 2022
Broadcast Number 4,837
The Tabernacle Choir
Orchestra at Temple Square
Conductor
Mack Wilberg
Organist
Richard Elliott
Host
Lloyd Newell
God of Our Fathers, Whose Almighty Hand
George W. Warren; arr. Mack Wilberg
Blades of Grass and Pure White Stones
Orrin Hatch, Lowell Alexander, & Phil Naish; arr. Keith Christopher
Irish Tune from County Derry
Percy Grainger; arr. Richard Elliott
Brother James’ Air
James Leith Macbeth; arr. Mack Wilberg
A Flower Remembered
John Rutter
Amazing Grace
Traditional; arr. Mack Wilberg