How to write a killer obituary for yourself

 You probably know about funeral planning.

It’s a good idea for you to determine your final arrangements, rather than leaving it to your grief-stricken family member. Or to that nephew who they had to track down to identify your body among all those boxes and old magazines in an apartment where neighbors only knew you as “that old guy who listened to the TV really loud."

Whatever.

Funeral planning is a good idea. So is obituary planning, its oft-ignored cousin.

I spent a good chunk of my journalism career reading obituaries. I recognize great ones from those that aren’t. You want a great obituary.

Don’t you want a great obituary? If someone does a Google search of your name 20 years from now, don’t you want it to be interesting? Don't you want it to make you look accomplished, likeable and worth mourning?

I do.

Obituaries are important – even if we don't combine them with apartment-for-rent notices, as suggested by Billy Crystal's character in "When Harry Met Sally" – so as a free service with your Sunday paper or website, I will provide some instruction on writing a really good obituary:

1. Tie your birth date or death date to a famous event. I’m a fan of obits that say “Larry was born Feb. 5, 1964 – four days before the Beatles' first appearance on the 'Ed Sullivan Show' " Everyone will marvel at it and you will become linked to it. I was born during the Cuban Missile Crisis, by the way.

See? You just linked JFK and me.

2. Include more than just jobs. Many obituaries have something like this: “Joan graduated from Armijo High School, worked at the Fairfield-Suisun School District for 25 years, then for Solano County for 15 years as a mosquito abatement investigator.” I’d much rather read, “Joan worked for the Fairfield-Suisun School District and Solano County, but was best known for her ability to juggle three lemons. She knew all the words to 'Love Will Keep Us Together' and cried every time she watched 'Beaches.' ” See? That’s a much fuller description. I can juggle lemons, know the words to every Captain and Tennille song and cry during "Beaches," too.

See? I've intrigued you.

3. Think about your surviving relatives. I’ve seen lists where someone is survived by “their favorite grandchild, Henry, and five others” or that sort of thing – and presumed that Henry’s mother or father wrote the obituary. I don’t need my family fighting after I’m dead (I want them to talk about how great I was, with Mrs. Brad wearing a mourning veil for the rest of her life), so I will list everyone equally.

See? I'll be fair, even in death.

4. Go ahead and be creative, adding flavor to the "facts." (Editor's note: This suggestion is not approved by the Daily Republic.) If your pre-written obituary claims you were an original member of Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes or that you had a walk-on role in "General Hospital" in 1973, who will check it? If you say that you were the Wyoming state champion in "rock-paper-scissors" or were on a team that field tested the first cassette tapes, who cares? It just makes you more interesting. I, by the way, helped invent the Slinky. Don't check, just believe me.

See? I'm more interesting.

So get busy – write an obituary and tell someone where to find it. That's what I did, back when I worked on the Slinky while singing along to "Love Will Keep Us Together."

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com. See?