A favourite publisher once offered me his key to a successful life in newspapers: “The news takes care of itself.
Just don’t mess with comics or obituaries.”
He knew the loyalty engendered by these longtime staples. He understood messing with either was a fool’s game, one where even the most logical changes would stir emotions.
Readers look to comics for routine. Not artwork. Not comedy. Not storyline. Comics are about day-to-day consistency. No matter what life throws at a reader on the front page, Charlie Brown and Co. await them inside.
Similarly, readers form emotional attachments to obituaries. Yes, they like concrete reminders of loved ones lost. But obituaries also reassure many readers of one final word to the world about what they accomplished. Obituaries have always been more for the living than the dead.
Both attachments are unreasonable, illogical, overly sentimental. And completely understandable.
I saw this over and over in my career. But sometimes, in the name of what needs to be done, I broke my former boss’ Golden Rule and braced for backlash.
So when we announced last week that Western’s obituaries would be posted on the Faculty and Staff News web page instead of the soon-to-be evolving homepage, I expected consternation. To most, it means changing their bookmark, then checking a different page every day or so. But to some, this unofficial tradition was a reminder that, as one writer put it, “UWO as an institution truly cares about its people” Changing it, in their eyes, meant the university somehow cares less.
“The deceased deserve better recognition after long years of service than to be shuffled off … to this out-of-sight site,” one faculty member wrote.
“It is unreasonable to expect me to search that out …,” another explained. “I’m really disappointed at this decision that smacks of the crassness of business put before the dignity of the community.”
“I have been looking forward to seeing my own name displayed there,” another semi-morbidly wrote, “and now it seems it will never happen.”
How do you argue with someone so emotionally invested in a homepage? You don’t. You hear them out and look for solutions to make their transition easier.
Taking a step back, I am guessing this university cared for its community long before obituaries appeared on its homepage, in fact, long before there was a homepage (or an Internet). Please don’t mistake placement for respect.
This university takes great pride in honouring its own. Turn to Section 3.6 of The University of Western Ontario, Policies and Procedures. Western’s respect isn’t arbitrary, but woven into the bureaucratic fabric. Updated over the summer, revised from 1985 wording, the policy outlines what happens when a member of the community dies.
Many proudly point to the fact when any member of the university community dies the flag atop University College is lowered to half-mast. The policy also sets provisions for a floral tribute (or donations to charity in lieu of flowers) and a letter of condolence from the president. Also, upon the death of a faculty or staff member, one month’s salary is paid to the spouse or estate.
That’s the official policy. But beyond that, this university community has a long memory, one filled with the names and contributions of the countless colleagues who have left us. Those memories, unlike a fleeting appearance on a homepage, never fade.
And that’s how an institution shows it truly cares about its people.