In 2020, I started a fellowship experimenting with obituaries.

Through the Reynolds Journalism Institute at the University of Missouri, and working with the Tampa Bay Times (which Poynter owns), I worked to revive the long tradition of local obits about regular people. I had a few hypotheses about why it mattered. One that I couldn’t measure, but still believe in, is this: Obituaries remind us of what we have in common. 

When so much divides and rankles, that matters.

I found that space again this week while reading a few of the obituaries about Corey Comperatore, the husband, father and volunteer firefighter who died while shielding his family during the assassination attempt on former President Donald Trump at a Saturday rally in Butler, Pennsylvania. 

Comperatore, 50, “loved to fish, so much that he refused to buy fish at the grocery store,” The New York Times reported. 

He married his high school sweetheart, The Washington Post reported. 

And when their two daughters got involved in cheer, Comperatore was, the Post reported, “‘the perfect cheer dad,’ (fellow cheer parent Dorthy) Reitler said. The facility once held a mock cheer contest for parents to compete, she recalled, and Comperatore participated enthusiastically. ‘Let’s say he wasn’t good at cartwheels,’ Reitler said. ‘But he tried.’”

In the last several years, my instinct during rough news cycles has been to consume all I can before, inevitably, I completely disconnect and go numb. But it’s hard to do that when learning about the very ordinary and lovely details of someone’s life through an obituary. 

Here are a few more obits, unrelated to the weekend’s horrifying news cycle, with those ordinary and lovely details.

John Carballo, 69, was a county judge who “enjoyed family gatherings, travel, cruising, Las Vegas, fast cars, music, and riding his motorcycle to the beach with Catherine.”

Uthara Srinivasan, 50, was a scientist, poet and yoga instructor. “Upon attending her 20th college reunion in 2015, Thara was appalled to learn that 350,000 plastic cups had been used for the event without any regard for the environmental impact, and decided to do something about it. She became the driving force behind an effort to ‘green’ Princeton’s reunions, by identifying and quantifying the worst environmental impacts in order to mitigate them. With dogged determination, influencing the university and the individual classes, she raised enough funding to offset the carbon emissions of 25% of overall worldwide reunions travel, and spearheaded the adoption of a reusable cup service that has saved more than 100,000 single-use plastic cups from landfill.”

Bob Hartzell, 62, returned to school at 40 to study art. “He especially enjoyed making art with Gretchen and they frequently collaborated in later years, making jewelry and functional art together.”

Aleta Staton, 66, was a champion for the arts. “A lifelong New Havener, cultural trailblazer and steadfast advocate for artists and their work, she left an indelible mark on the city’s stages, choirs, churches, and schools, lifting up generations of creatives in the process.” 

And Wally Tackett was 82. “Every place they lived, if Wally could find a spot, flowers were soon sprouting and flourishing. She was proud of her flower beds, no matter where or how simple. She gained a reputation for the dishes she brought to pot-luck dinners at church and for the meals she hosted in her home after morning services at the Church of Christ in Hyde Park. Many people didn’t realize how good a seamstress she was. She cut and sewed several of the clothes she wore, although her fingers were twisted by arthritis in her later years. She made many outfits for babies and a good number of people sleep under the blankets she made.” 

That’s it for me. Hug your people,

Kristen