May 30, 2006

Online memorials

Online memorials bring strangers and friends together in community of grief.

online memorials have altered acts of bereavement and become palliative retreats for some who grieve. Web sites dedicated to the deceased now number in the millions in the United States, and for those left behind, posting stories, photos and videos is a way of keeping a permanent record of the person's life

While many non-Western cultures build rituals around death that allow a person to grieve over time, in highly individualistic societies, losing a loved one can be isolating, some psychologists say, which may be why some turn to the Web to reach outside their traditional social network.

"When death happens, we're so alone," said George Bonanno, a psychologist at Columbia University. "It would be nice if we had a sense of community, and maybe that's what the Internet provides."

Some sites such as, and have been around for about a decade and provide software tools for users to customize their Web pages. and charge one-time fees of $50 to $100 for a permanent place on their sites. There are other, smaller sites started by funeral homes; still others are set up by individuals who purchase domain names in honor of the deceased.
"It's become a lifeline for a lot of families," said Henry Chamberlain, chief executive of In its early days, when the Web site went dark for a few hours, panicked users would e-mail and call, feeling as if they were reliving the loss of their loved one, he said.

The Internet's constant availability makes it possible for people to grieve in their own time.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 8:01 PM | Permalink

Willow caskets, hourglasses

  Willow Caskets

Environmentally friendly willow wicker coffins hand woven by a skilled basket maker available from Somerset Willow.

Also in England, an artist explores the effects of human ash as glaze.

While in the U.S. one hourglass maker will send you a large empty hourglass made of Honduran mahogany and Bolivian rosewood "to fill with the dear departed by the customer."


UPDATE: It seems as if I grabbed the image of the willow casket from Somerset Willow which I linked without knowing the image itself was copyrighted by Deborah Lattimore whose other work, all copyrighted, can be seen on Flickr. My apologies to Ms Lattimore who is a fine photographer.

If you can no longer see the image, it's because Ms Lattimore was not satisfied with the above correction, addition, link and apology.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 8:00 PM | Permalink

May 29, 2006

After death byline

Powerline reports that the obituary of Lloyd Bentsen that appeared in the New York Times last week was written by David Rosenbaum who died five months before Bentsen did.

He still got the byline.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 10:02 PM | Permalink

Memorial Day

the photo has been removed at the request of the photographer

I've been thinking all weekend about Memorial Day and what it means. I don't know anyone in the military or anyone who's been in Iraq. I'm a step removed from those who've died in wars.

But I sense them. Henry Ward Beecher wrote, "They hover as a cloud of witnesses above this Nation."

I know that I would not, could not, live the life I do had brave men not given their lives to win a Revolution against Great Britain, to preserve a nation and end slavery, to defeat fascism and communism and today against those who would impose a 12th century Caliphate over the world. I am humbled and profoundly grateful.

War is a terrible thing, awesome in its awfulness. You do not have to glorify war to have profound gratitude for those who died fighting. They did it for us. We are the country and the future they were fighting for. We are living the legacies of their lives.

Christopher Hitchens has the last word

"Always think of it: never speak of it." That was the stoic French injunction during the time when the provinces of Alsace and Lorraine had been lost. This resolution might serve us well at the present time, when we are in midconflict with a hideous foe, and when it is too soon to be thinking of memorials to a war not yet won. This Memorial Day, one might think particularly of those of our fallen who also guarded polling-places, opened schools and clinics, and excavated mass graves. They represent the highest form of the citizen, and every man and woman among them was a volunteer. This plain statement requires no further rhetoric.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 8:09 PM | Permalink

Memorial in a plastic white binder

Memorial kept by a Korean war veteran, a volunteer who welcomes almost every military plane that lands in Bangor.

Tears, tributes and a simple memorial

As war memorials go, this one is modest to the point of starkness: A white plastic binder, stuffed with hundreds of pages, rests on a wobbly lectern, in a small, unpretentious regional airport terminal.

But for the hundreds of US troops who stream through Bangor International Airport every month, on military flights into and out of Iraq and Afghanistan, the notebook has become an almost sacred object.

It contains the name of every US soldier, sailor, flyer, and Marine killed in the conflicts in the Middle East.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 1:03 PM | Permalink

Ghost Ship

After fourth months at sea, ghost ship with 11 petrified corpses washes up in Barbados

The yacht was towed but, at some stage, the line was severed. El Pais reported that it had been hacked with a machete. With no fuel left and food and water running out, the migrants' fate was left in the hands of the sea, the weather, and luck. The latter soon ran out.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 12:59 PM | Permalink

May 28, 2006

Sexy Coffins

The Gallery of funeral art from the Italian company where old world masters craft "sarcophagus, cinerary urns and handycraft-items of funeral art" has photos of some beautiful art.

  Dancing With Death Cofanifunebri

  Funeral Art Cofanifunebri

But their photos of the caskets and coffins they make are laughable.
Called their "fashion line coffins", you see bikini-clad models draped over the models enticing you to buy one. I know sex is used to sell a lot of things, but coffins?

The model for "Cristo Europa" has a certain multicultural and sophisticated flair.

  Cofanifunebri -2-2

While over at the "Padre Pio" coffin, the model is drinking champagne.

 Cofanifunebri Padre Pio-1

Even the artists apparently find it more comfortable to work in bikinis. The woman below definitely has a hammer or chisel in her hand.

  Cofanifunebri Artist

I guess they're getting some traction with the sexy coffin approach.
They've been selling their "sexy coffins" calendar since 2003. Here's Miss August

  August Cofanifunebri

Words fail.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 5:31 PM | Permalink

May 25, 2006

Mile High Death

A seventy-eight year old woman died on a Delta flight from Florida to Salt Lake City and nobody noticed.

They thought she was sleeping, but when she didn't get up when the flight ended, they called the EMTs.

Woman's Death Goes Unnoticed.

Update: The woman has been identified as Virginia Thompson, 78, who was traveling with her husband. He told the flight attendants that his wife was unresponsive and paramedics met the flight when it landed.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 2:23 AM | Permalink

May 24, 2006

Coaching for the Dying

Doulas is a Greek term for women who help other women with childbirth, usually at home . It's now become a term used by those who coach and counsel people who are dying and their families.

Coming in and going out. Birth doulas and death doulas.

Living in a time when most Americans are unfamiliar with death, It's a wonderful thing that these doulas bring experience, solace and sacredness to the process of dying. When done well, death can be a euphoric experience.

For the Families of the Dying, Coaching as the Hours Wane

Even a hospice team is often not there for the final hours.

"These final moments matter, but often, when families and patients need us most — to explain the process, calm the situation, take away the negative energy and allow them to be more present — we aren't there," said Henry Fersko-Weiss, vice president for counseling services at Continuum Hospice Care in New York City, which has a new program that has been keeping vigil with the dying and their families.


It is not uncommon, hospice workers say, for those not involved in day-to-day care to bring their own fears and conflict to the deathbed and inadvertently become a burden. Into the tumult came Mr. Fersko-Weiss, a Buddhist whose religion says that "what happens to the soul is partly determined by how it leaves this life." The scene of death, he said, is a "sacred space," and the doula's job is to protect it.
Chloe Tartaglia, a pre-med student, yoga teacher and former birth doula, had never seen anyone die when she volunteered for the vigil program.

She learned the signs of imminent death in her 16-hour training program, how to match her breathing to the patient's and use visualization and aromatherapy to calm everyone in the room. On the subway, headed to her first case, Ms. Tartaglia, whose father was a hospice physician, concentrated on her goal: to be "like water and flow to the place where there's need."

What do the families say?
All three described feeling peaceful and reverent at the time of his passing. It was like being "inside a cocoon," Ms. Pasalbessy said, "just me and my sisters, and Daddy, all together, in a place where nothing bad could touch us."
This dying was such a wonderful experience, if death can be that. And it's because there was no fear of the unknown."

Posted by Jill Fallon at 7:37 PM | Permalink

May 23, 2006

Desecration and Neglect

In this week before Memorial Day, I thought to explore what's happening with cemeteries these days.

While even elephants honor their dead, too often some people find the desecration of graves, just another avenue for political expression despite the fact that normal people feel revulsion at such behavior, feeling it is Beyond the Pale.

Who doesn't feel disgusted to learn that tombstones had been removed from graves to use as paving stones and latrines.

Just this month

In Italy Gravestone desecration in Milan has shaken Milan's Jewish community. Some 40 Jewish gravestones were damaged, five completely destroyed.

In England, Gladys Hammond was the mother-in-law of a man who helped run a farm breeding guinea pigs for medical research. Last week four animal rights militants were jailed for 40 years over the "appalling" desecration of the grave of Mrs. Hammond. Her body had been dug up and stolen from a churchyard. The grandmother's remains were only recovered last week, 18 months after being stolen.

In St. Paul Minnesota, some 400 members of the Hmong community gathered to get updates on what's happened since hundreds of Hmong graves were desecrated in Thailand last fall.

While in Houston, one cemetery is so neglected, so overgrown that families are exhuming the bodies of their loves ones to move them to a proper cemetery. (hat tip to reader Lauren).

Robert Frost comes to mind, In a Disused Graveyard.

The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
"The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay."
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can't help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 6:42 PM | Permalink

May 18, 2006

Arundel Tomb

 Arundel Tomb, Chicester Cathedral

An Arundel Tomb
by Philip Larkin

Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.

Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.

Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 11:41 PM | Permalink

May 17, 2006

Vicky Armel

Vicky Armel, 40 years old, a loving wife and mother of two, took a job that put her life on the line.

  Detective Vickie Armel

A police officer and a detective, she was murdered last week in a shootout in Fairfax VA. Her killer was a mentally disturbed teen-ager who had recently been arrested for car-jacking.

Villainous Company reports on her funeral.

And as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, I couldn't help noticing that the road was lined with cars. And people. Lots of people.

Lines of police officers, EMTs, and firemen standing at attention by their vehicles. That was moving.

But what really astonished me was car after carful of ordinary families who turned out to pay homage to a slain Fairfax County police detective. These people had to have been standing by the side of the road for hours. We were late getting out of the service. Many had flags or homemade signs or stood silently with hands or caps over their hearts.

Some were saluting, at full attention, ramrod straight.

For mile after mile as we drove, literally every overpass we went under was filled with people, and every single one sported a fire truck, often with an American flag hoisted between two cranes. It is a long, long way from Vienna to Warrenton. I have never seen anything like it - as the landscape slowly changed from concrete highways and skyscrapers to rolling green pastures and horse farms, the only constant was the silent embrace of a community that turned out by the thousands to say goodbye to a fallen officer: black, white, brown, professionals, civilians, young and old. It was something I didn't think existed in this jaded world anymore: a sense of community.

Last week, a friend asked me who I thought was the greatest living American. Without a single conscious thought, the words that came out of my mouth said those whose jobs require them to risk their lives for strangers because they let me live the life I enjoy so much.

After reading about the funeral of Vicky Armel, I realize how many people think the same.

The deepest condolences to her husband and children and may their deep pain be mixed with deeper pride.

The closest bonds we will ever know are the bonds of grief. The deepest community is one of sorrow - Cormac McCarthy.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 11:56 AM | Permalink

May 15, 2006

Daniel Wultz, victim of terror

During Passover, on April 17th, a Palestinian suicide bomber succeeded in bombing a Tel Aviv restaurant and bus station. Ten people were killed.

Today the eleventh victim, an American, Daniel Wultz a teen age boy from Miami, died. He was having lunch with his Dad.

Debbie Schlussel reports

Danny's father Yekutiel (Tuly) was also injured in the bombing, where he and his son lunched together at Mayor's Falafel, a kosher for Passover restaurant. He is quoted in The Jerusalem Post:

"Unfortunately, I remember everything," he said. "Daniel was thrown into my hands, and asked me to pick him up. But when I saw the extent of his injuries, I laid him down to wait for an ambulance. I held his hand and told him I loved him, and he told me he loved me."
Danny will be flown home for burial in Florida, Monday

HT Atlas Shrugs

Hamas called the bombing justified.

R.I..P. Daniel Wultz

Update from Arnold Ahlert

* Abu Amin, Islamic Jihad leader in the northern West Bank, comparing Wultz to the suicide bomber who blew up the restaurant, killing 10 and injuring 60: "Our hero believed in Allah and died while fighting for Allah, but your pig was killed in a restaurant in an area full of prostitution."

* Abu Nasser, a leader of the Al Aqsa Martyrs Brigades, which took "credit" for the bombing: "This is a gift from Allah. We wish this young dog will go directly with no transit to hell."

Posted by Jill Fallon at 5:00 PM | Permalink

Weekend Joke

From Happy Catholic comes this weekend joke.

An elderly gentleman had serious hearing problems for a number of years.

He went to the doctor and the doctor was able to have him fitted for a set of hearing aids that allowed the gentleman to hear 100%.

The elderly gentleman went back in a month to the doctor and the doctor said, "Your hearing is perfect. Your family must be really pleased that you can hear again."

The gentleman replied, "Oh, I haven't told my family yet. I just sit around and listen to the conversations. I've changed my will three times!"

Posted by Jill Fallon at 1:05 AM | Permalink

In the time allotted us

The time allotted to us is analogous to the shutter of a camera; it opens with our birth, allowing in the small amount of light we must work with before it closes and the universe vanishes. With that light we must enter our "dark room" and develop our conception of existence--what we are, why we are here, and what is our relationship to the whole. There are pneumagraphs laying around that others have left behind--scripture, books, images and institutions. Some of them were successful in capturing the Light, others only darkness visible." --

One Cosmos: Salvolution History

Posted by Jill Fallon at 1:03 AM | Permalink

May 12, 2006

"Is this going to be our grave?"

He saved a couple a year after he died. Lost Virginia's Hiker's Point of Despair

The shaky handwriting in the margins of the hiking map was that of a desperate man, lost in the wilderness 2,600 miles from his Virginia home, out of energy and out of hope.

He was down to his last three crackers, he scribbled. He knew that nobody was looking for him. And he expected that here, alone in this treacherous gorge in California's San Jacinto Mountains, he was about to die.

His last entry was May 8, 2005. He packed his maps into his new orange and yellow backpack, along with his navy blue fleece and the Ziploc bag containing the Virginia driver's license that identified him as John Donovan, 60, of Petersburg. And then he vanished.

On Monday, exactly one year later, Brandon Day, 28, and his girlfriend, Gina Allen, 24, also lost, hungry and desperate, blundered into the same rugged gorge and, through John Donovan's apparent demise, found their survival.

We definitely knew that we were looking at somebody's grave," Day said. "The thought was, 'Is this going to be our grave?' "

R.I..P. John Donovan.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 8:30 PM | Permalink

May 11, 2006

Fish Drags Man to Death

He just wouldn't let go. It was the biggest fish he had ever hooked.

He wouldn't let go of the line he had hooked onto a fish of legend, a fish so big he would be able to boast about it for the rest of his life, a monster catfish 4 feet long and 150 lbs.

Gabor Komlosy, a Hungarian fisherman, was yanked down the bank of the river by the fish who pulled him into the water until Gabor his his head on a rock and died.

When his body was pulled from the river, still clinging to his rod, the fish was still stuck on the end.

Fish Drags Man to Death

Technorati Tags:

Posted by Jill Fallon at 12:14 PM | Permalink

May 10, 2006

Art Honoring Life

Funeria, an arts agency, is leading the emerging funerary arts movement.

Funeria offers a portfolio of some 70 designs, of hand-made, museum-quality, artist-made funerary vessels.

  Ashes To Art

It's certainly time for more thought and beauty for the urns, vessels and reliquaries for cremated remains. As one wag said, "You've urned it!"

If you are an artist, you may be interested in their call for entries 2006 in the Ashes to Art collection.

The deadline is August 19, 2006. The Ashes to Art exhibition will be in Philadelphia in October.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 9:22 PM | Permalink

Art Honoring Life

Funeria, an arts agency, is leading the emerging funerary arts movement.

Funeria offers a portfolio of some 70 designs, of hand-made, museum-quality, artist-made funerary vessels.

  Ashes To Art

It's certainly time for more thought and beauty for the urns, vessels and reliquaries for cremated remains.  As one wag said, "You've urned it!"

If you are an artist, you may be interested in their call for entries 2006 in the Ashes to Art collection. 

The deadline is August 19, 2006.  The Ashes to Art exhibition will be in Philadelphia in October.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 6:22 PM | Permalink | TrackBack

May 9, 2006

R.I.P. Earl D. Woods

I'm not a big sports fan, though I always the looks and the manner of Tiger Woods, much of which I attribute to his good upbringing. So I was sad to learn of the passing of his father, Earl Woods, at age 74.

  Earl Woods

CBS news reported
Earl Woods was more determined to raise a good son than a great golfer and became the role model, architect and driving force behind Tiger Woods' phenomenal career

Tiger himself says "My dad was my best friend and greatest role model." "I'm overwhelmed when I think of all of the great things he accomplished in his life. He was an amazing dad, coach, mentor, soldier, husband and friend. I wouldn't be where I am today without him, and I'm honored to continue his legacy of sharing and caring."

From the beginning, Earl Woods guided, nurtured, managed and inspired his child prodigy. Earl, who served as a Green Beret in Vietnam, also gave him the nickname Tiger, after a buddy, a lieutenant colonel in the South Vietnamese army who Earl said saved his life.

Eugene Robinson on Tiger Woods Dad

I found myself unexpectedly moved by the death of Earl Woods, who succumbed to prostate cancer Wednesday at 74 -- unexpectedly, since I never met the man. I knew him only through what the public has been able to see of his relationship with his son, Tiger, arguably the most famous and accomplished athlete in the world. Eventually I realized the reason I feel such a sense of loss is that I'll never get to witness that remarkable relationship again.

Earl Woods did much more than raise a supremely talented golfer. In an age when it's rare to read a sentence with the words "African American" and "father" that doesn't also include "absent" or some other pejorative, Earl and Tiger Woods were the world's most visible, and inspiring, counterexample. "He was the person I looked up to more than anyone," Tiger Woods said following his father's death, and even the world's biggest cynic had to know he meant every word.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 5:09 PM | Permalink

May 8, 2006

Louis Rukeyser, R.I.P.

I missed the death of Louis Rukeyser. Since I couldn't do better than Fausta, go to Thank You Lou to appreciate his Great Legacy.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 3:17 AM | Permalink

May 5, 2006

The Sweetness of Her Temper

The grave of Jane Austen is in Winchester Cathedral. Her epitaph extols her sweetness of temper and the extraordinary endowments of her mind as well as the warmest love of her intimate connections which now span the centuries.

Anyone who has read Jane Austen will agree she left a Great Legacy as fresh today as when she wrote. I know one woman who has loaded her iPod with every one of her novels, so that, on shuffle mode, she is transported from delicious scene of human delusion and foible to another.

The Jane Austen Society of North America and its many regional offshoots meet often to share their enthusiasm and admiration for Austen's genius.

Their welcoming quote:

"It's such happiness when good people get together---and they always do."
Jane Austen, Emma.

  Jane Austen's Grave Winchester Catheral

.......The benevolence of her heart,
the sweetness of her temper, and
the extraordinary endowments of her mind
obtained the regard of all who knew her, and
the warmest love of her intimate connections.

Their grief is in proportion to their affection.
they know their loss to be irreparable,
but in their deepest affliction they are comforted
by a firm though humble hope that her charity,
devotion, faith and purity, have rendered
her soul acceptable in the light of her

Posted by Jill Fallon at 11:48 AM | Permalink

May 4, 2006

Another Pickled Corpse

Pickled Corpse

Hungarian builders who drank their way to the bottom of a huge barrel of rum while renovating a house got a nasty surprise when a pickled corpse tumbled out of the empty barrel.
....the body of the man had been shipped back from Jamaica 20 years ago by his wife in the barrel of rum in order to avoid the cost and paperwork of an official return.
Some of the workers liked the "special taste" so they decanted a few bottles to take back home, that is before the body of a naked man fell out.

They are not the only people to have enjoyed the special taste rum acquires from a human corpse as I posted earlier in Tapping the Admiral.

  Lord Nelson-1

There's a lesson in this. Know where your rum comes from.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 10:08 PM | Permalink

The Ashes of Kirby Puckett

Leaving no written directions about how he wanted to be buried or who should have his ashes, Baseball Hall of Famer Kirby Puckett left plenty of work for the lawyers for his children and his fiancee.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 9:55 PM | Permalink

Boot Hill Graveyard, Tombstone Arizona

 Lester Moore  Marker

"Here lies Lester Moore
Shot with a .44
No Les, No more."

Posted by Jill Fallon at 3:53 PM | Permalink

The Joy of Organizing

From neo-neo con. Ah, the joy of organizing: going through old papers.

Going through much of it is a strangely emotional experience. Old cards--birthdays, anniversaries, loves gained and lost. Photos of me and my boyfriend who went to Vietnam, and his last letter, the only one I saved (for those of you who haven't read my posts on that subject: yes, he did return, but no, we didn't marry). Photos from college--me, impossibly young, sporting one of those long flippy "do's" that required setting on rollers the size of beer cans; old friends from that era, some of them now dead. Poems that make me cry when I stop to read them. My diplomas. A photocopy of the check from Central Casting Corporation I got for doing a "silent bit" as a dancer in the film "The Turning Point" (see this).

In one file entitled "School--grades and awards" are all my old report cards (height: 48 1/4 inches, weight, 51 pounds, first grade). Even now those report cards have the power to stir a hint of anxiety in me, remembering the drama of the reading of the names and the doling out of the little cardboard squares representing so much work. My SAT scores. My GRE scores. My scholarships, and some newspaper clippings announcing same. A little card of commendation with a gold star on it, given to me in third grade for a bunch of poems I wrote, illustrated, and compiled into a scrapbook for extra credit and for fun ("Snowflakes falling, down, down, down...)

Letters from a few famous people I wrote to who had the decency to write back, some at great length (Oliver Sacks, for one). A huge file of poetry I like that isn't anthologized in any books I own. My own poetry, with many different alternative drafts (ah, my biographer will be so grateful!) A folder filled with the condolence letters people wrote my mother when my grandmother died in the late 60s, which still have the power to evoke her warm presence and vitality.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 11:11 AM | Permalink

Bring the person you love inside you

From Sunday's New York Times Magazine comes an interview with the Latin American writer Carlos Fuentes.

You've had more than your share of sorrows.

Most of all not having my son around. I was very proud of him. He was a very good painter. He had hemophilia. He died six years ago. Natasha, my daughter, just died last summer.

How do you get up in the morning after that kind of loss?

You go on. You go on.
You bring the person you love inside you. That is how you cope. You make him or her live within you. The whole experience I had with my children is in me. It is nowhere else I can see. I can see a photograph, I can feel sad, I can read a poem, but the experience of having them within myself is what matters.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 11:10 AM | Permalink

May 3, 2006

Condemned man to executioners

A man convicted of a double murder was executed this week in Ohio with an injection of lethal chemicals but not before he sat up and told his executioners, "It's not working."

Apparently, a vein has collapsed and the deadly cocktail took a long time to take effect.

Killer executed the hard way.

To his credit Joseph Lewis Clark made a final statement apologizing to the victims' families and saying

"Today my life is being taken because of drugs. If you live by the sword you die by the sword."

Posted by Jill Fallon at 3:16 PM | Permalink

The Saddest Thing I Own

The new collaborative art work on the Web is a little bit like Post Secret is called The Saddest Thing I Own.

It's a glimpse into the rich, interior lives we all have and I hope an inspiration for a digital story you can create for your Legacy Archives.

Posted by Jill Fallon at 3:08 PM | Permalink

May 2, 2006

Best headline of the week

Body found in St Paul cemetery

Posted by Jill Fallon at 12:12 PM | Permalink