So now I skim the national and international obits from time to time. Just to see who died and what they did and what it meant and how we will be the less for their loss.
And Sunday, in the local paper, I read these lines in memoriam: "Andrew Breitbart was a Hollywood-hating, mainstream media-loathing commentator and website publisher who once helped edit the Drudge Report and launch the Huffington Post."
I didn't know him; I didn't follow his work, and it's not my place to comment on his politics or his ideology. He died at 43, which is too young. What struck me so strongly was that the things he hated were apparently such a large part of his persona that his life could be summed up by listing his hatreds.
I do not want be remembered when I'm dead for the things I hated, legion though they may be. I don't want the sum of my life to be a list of my hatreds. I don't want anyone reading my obit to pity my life.
|I don't hate peas.|
|Or spotted Cows.|
|I don't hate big ugly fish heads.|
|Or kids and dogs and beaches.|
|I don't hate old monasteries.|