Ruth Carpenter taught English at the Brearley School in New York for some 40 years after having graduated summa cum laude from Bryn Mawr and then from Cambridge, which she attended as a Marshall Scholar. The other day there were two that caught my eye. Often there are obits one cannot easily ignore. In my files I have saved the obituary that paper published when Winston Churchill died. There the obituaries are long, carefully written and often insightful summaries of the lives of well-known people. When I lived in England in the mid-1990s, I read with joy the superb obits published in the Times of London. I think again of an old Irish saw - 'Never dance on the grave.' Moreover, the concept of equal time is moot. I agree with the attitude an obituary should be forgiving and tolerant. They pull their punches and many old scores remain unresolved. As the paper of record, the Times attempts to be inclusive and accurate, but the good editors seem to have a sense of mercy. Many solidly written and interesting summations of a life gloss over the mistakes, failings and misconduct of the departed. It is my experience, obituaries usually are overly generous, which, I believe, is appropriate. I would settle for proper spelling of my name. Sometimes I wonder what he wrote, but my expectations are modest. I told him I wished I could see the result but was pleased he was doing it. Several years ago, my good friend Murray Chass, then a major baseball writer for The New York Times, called with a question, 'Do you feel OK?' When I replied I was fine, he told me he had just been asked to write my obituary for the paper. Most days I learn something, and that may explain it all.

Sometimes I read of the lives of people I did not know but whose public exploits I admired and sometimes I read of criminals and scoundrels who gained notoriety. He never explained his choice but once wryly commented those were the 'Irish funny pages.' Now in my old age, I also open the paper to the obits and find the experience rarely disappointing. I remember him telling me he always looked first at the obituaries in the morning papers. He was a brilliant mentor and eminent lawyer. When I was a young lawyer in New York, the senior partner at our law firm was an 'old' - about 55 - Irishman from Connecticut who hired me right out of law school. At this stage, they're read with 'mix of loss and recognition of the achievements of life'