MrsSpringsteen
Blue Crack Addict
What do you think of sending sympathy/mourning in that way? I like what the author has to say about it. Are there any things that are just too sacred, that we need to be more personal about? Or can the web be just as personal?
By Mark Pothier, Boston Globe | April 9, 2006
The mourning began by e-mail. In the hours after my father's death in January, friends and relatives sent me messages of support and sympathy. Many arrived before the calls and hugs, and their number almost rivaled the daily influx of spam.A few days later, as I scrolled down the computer screen past subject lines like "We just heard" and "Can we do anything?" I felt comforted.
It occurred to me that a means of communication often derided for being impersonal and casual to the point of carelessness somehow suited this sorrowful occasion. For me, e-mailed sympathy had become acceptable. These electronic notes conveyed genuine emotions. Consoling by computer was fast and effective - perfectly normal. The thoughts people tapped out on keyboards did not strike me as a way for them to avoid the process of composing a handwritten note, addressing an envelope, and affixing a stamp to it. They responded electronically because they cared. E-mail offered an immediacy not possible through the US mail and a level of intimacy that can be difficult to achieve by phone, especially when one or both parties is in a workplace.
Other people did send cards the traditional way, and I was happy to have them fill some of the void that followed the funeral-planning blur. The cards' boilerplate bromides - "At this difficult time," "You're in our thoughts" - were effectively rendered invisible by the heart-felt notes inside. I kept them on the kitchen counter for a couple of weeks and returned to the stack regularly for a tactile form of grieving. But I did not hold the hard-copy expressions in any higher regard than those delivered by a "send" click.
For most people, e-mail is now the preferred way to communicate the written word. We are so dependent on keyboards that our handwriting has been reduced to indecipherable scrawls. Some of us even pay our monthly bills by computer, eliminating one of the last reasons to clutch a pen: the personal check.
As bereavement also moves on-line, the "death care" industry, as trade insiders call it, has come to realize the potential electronic grieving offers. The buzzword is "personalization." Technology has spawned innovation for a business that historically traded in formality. One-kind-suits-all funeral services were the norm. The color was always black. The undertaker knew best. Today, funeral-home websites, once little more than static advertisements, routinely include message boards, photo galleries, and other ways to share anecdotes, thoughts, and tributes. They post downloadable videos compiled from family movies and snapshots, and memorial services are sometimes webcast live. They promote "celebrations" of life instead of drab death notices.
When both of my in-laws died last year, the funeral home's online "memorial guest book" quickly filled with entries from places like Florida, England, and Texas. People who could not travel to the services were able to attend a sort of virtual wake. They appreciated the chance to participate from afar. Computers made it simple.
Naturally, this new way of dealing with death creates opportunities for high-tech entrepreneurs, too. Those seeking to gain from others' losses find the Internet to be a versatile tool. Hundreds of websites with links to products and services offer an array of sympathy e-cards, their false sentiments rivaling the disingenuous wail of a disgraced television evangelist. For instance, one company's "Not ever gone, just moved on" card is accented with a grape-dark purple border and includes a not-so-subtle offer for retail store discounts. Other e-cards allow mourners to select from an assortment of images, headings, and accompanying music (like "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "You Are Not Alone"). "Virtual cemeteries" encourage online visitors to "engrave" epitaphs on photographs of headstones superimposed on equally fake lush backgrounds. Usually for a fee, of course.
Some will shudder at such blatant commercialism, blaming it on a world where convenience bests formal notions of respect for the dead. But insincerity is the same at any speed, whether it comes through a website or post office. I've decided not to measure condolences by the amount of ink, money, or time spent but the thought invested.
And I suspect my father would have appreciated those e-mails as much as the flowers that enveloped his casket.
By Mark Pothier, Boston Globe | April 9, 2006
The mourning began by e-mail. In the hours after my father's death in January, friends and relatives sent me messages of support and sympathy. Many arrived before the calls and hugs, and their number almost rivaled the daily influx of spam.A few days later, as I scrolled down the computer screen past subject lines like "We just heard" and "Can we do anything?" I felt comforted.
It occurred to me that a means of communication often derided for being impersonal and casual to the point of carelessness somehow suited this sorrowful occasion. For me, e-mailed sympathy had become acceptable. These electronic notes conveyed genuine emotions. Consoling by computer was fast and effective - perfectly normal. The thoughts people tapped out on keyboards did not strike me as a way for them to avoid the process of composing a handwritten note, addressing an envelope, and affixing a stamp to it. They responded electronically because they cared. E-mail offered an immediacy not possible through the US mail and a level of intimacy that can be difficult to achieve by phone, especially when one or both parties is in a workplace.
Other people did send cards the traditional way, and I was happy to have them fill some of the void that followed the funeral-planning blur. The cards' boilerplate bromides - "At this difficult time," "You're in our thoughts" - were effectively rendered invisible by the heart-felt notes inside. I kept them on the kitchen counter for a couple of weeks and returned to the stack regularly for a tactile form of grieving. But I did not hold the hard-copy expressions in any higher regard than those delivered by a "send" click.
For most people, e-mail is now the preferred way to communicate the written word. We are so dependent on keyboards that our handwriting has been reduced to indecipherable scrawls. Some of us even pay our monthly bills by computer, eliminating one of the last reasons to clutch a pen: the personal check.
As bereavement also moves on-line, the "death care" industry, as trade insiders call it, has come to realize the potential electronic grieving offers. The buzzword is "personalization." Technology has spawned innovation for a business that historically traded in formality. One-kind-suits-all funeral services were the norm. The color was always black. The undertaker knew best. Today, funeral-home websites, once little more than static advertisements, routinely include message boards, photo galleries, and other ways to share anecdotes, thoughts, and tributes. They post downloadable videos compiled from family movies and snapshots, and memorial services are sometimes webcast live. They promote "celebrations" of life instead of drab death notices.
When both of my in-laws died last year, the funeral home's online "memorial guest book" quickly filled with entries from places like Florida, England, and Texas. People who could not travel to the services were able to attend a sort of virtual wake. They appreciated the chance to participate from afar. Computers made it simple.
Naturally, this new way of dealing with death creates opportunities for high-tech entrepreneurs, too. Those seeking to gain from others' losses find the Internet to be a versatile tool. Hundreds of websites with links to products and services offer an array of sympathy e-cards, their false sentiments rivaling the disingenuous wail of a disgraced television evangelist. For instance, one company's "Not ever gone, just moved on" card is accented with a grape-dark purple border and includes a not-so-subtle offer for retail store discounts. Other e-cards allow mourners to select from an assortment of images, headings, and accompanying music (like "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "You Are Not Alone"). "Virtual cemeteries" encourage online visitors to "engrave" epitaphs on photographs of headstones superimposed on equally fake lush backgrounds. Usually for a fee, of course.
Some will shudder at such blatant commercialism, blaming it on a world where convenience bests formal notions of respect for the dead. But insincerity is the same at any speed, whether it comes through a website or post office. I've decided not to measure condolences by the amount of ink, money, or time spent but the thought invested.
And I suspect my father would have appreciated those e-mails as much as the flowers that enveloped his casket.
