Tag: death

How to Celebrate the Day of the Dead

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It seems to have become a tradition to re-post this 2013 column on November 1. At my house, Day of the Dead season opened a couple of weeks ago when I started a new book project: a sequel to The Glen Rock Book of the Dead. It will be called The Baltimore Book of the Dead, again named after the place it was written, again containing very short lyric essays, each a portrait of someone who has died. The first one is my mother, The Golfer, who left us right after I finished the first book, and I’ve got a handful of others already. I can picture the two little books standing next to each other, so maybe it will actually happen and you will read it someday. If I continue to be swept up in the writing, you might be reading essays from the archive for a couple of months, but I’ve been digging around and there are some very ancient ones that I bet most BFB readers have never seen. Happy Day of the Dead, shots of tequila all around. 

Drape a small table with a cloth in the favorite color of the person you loved who has died. Adorn it with candles, flowers (marigolds are traditional) and framed photographs. Set out some favorite foods: a slice of pie, a bottle of beer, a Milky Way. Add the instruments of their hobbies and vices: a pack of Newports, a deck of cards, a banjo. A People magazine, a racquet, a Terrible Towel. A copy of Peter Pan, of The Joy of Cooking, of the Bible.

Second Body Recovered from Inner Harbor Within a Week

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Baltimore police this morning recovered a body floating in the Inner Harbor, the second one discovered there in the last week.

Woman Dies 11 Days After Being Arrested by Baltimore Police and Collapsing in Cell

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Photo via National Police Car Archives

A woman who suddenly collapsed and fell severely ill after she was arrested by Baltimore police officers last week passed away today.

Tawon Boyd’s Death After Fight with Police Ruled an Accident

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Tawon Boyd (via Facebook)

A 21-year-old Middle River man’s September death following a scuffle with Baltimore County police was an accident rather than a homicide, according to the state medical examiner’s office.

How to Celebrate the Day of the Dead

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DAy of the Dead
Rejoicing Quietus by Thaneeya McArdle

In honor of the Day of the Dead, we re-post this favorite column from our archives, originally posted October 30, 2013. 

Drape a small table with a cloth in the favorite color of the person you loved who has died. Adorn it with candles, flowers (marigolds are traditional) and framed photographs. Set out some favorite foods: a slice of pie, a bottle of beer, a Milky Way. Add the instruments of their hobbies and vices: a pack of Newports, a deck of cards, a banjo. A People magazine, a racquet, a Terrible Towel. A copy of Peter Pan, of The Joy of Cooking, of the Bible.

Maryland’s Mysterious Deaths

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CDC_inline_CE-9-01

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recently parsed some macabre–but fascinating–data. Using state death data, they determined which causes of death were most “distinctive” on a state-by-state basis. To break this down a bit: All over the country, the leading causes of death (heart attack, accident, suicide, etc.) are the same. This particular data-crunching was looking for something else– causes of death that might not represent huge populations, but were significantly higher, statistically speaking, than in other states.

Murtherfore: A Story of Alcoholic Inspiration

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1920s  Party

This New Year’s Eve, writer Lindsay Fleming remembers her father-in-law’s wit and wisdom, his whiskey sours and his elegant exit.

My father-in-law was famous for his whiskey sours.  When your drink ran dry, he’d be quick to notice and urge a refill.  If you hesitated, he’d settle it with the reminder, “No bird ever flew on one wing.”  When he died, copies of his recipe were posted by magnet on the refrigerator at the family beach house.  A backup was filed underneath the highball glasses in the art deco bar on the screened-in porch.

Myra and Mom

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image via weheartit.com
image via weheartit.com

Baltimore writer Gay Jervey remembers her mother’s most enduring–and exciting–friendship.

Not long ago, I received the news that I had been dreading for months: Myra Shannonhouse, my honorary Godmother, ally and bridge to so much that had come to shape me, had died after the long, wrenching free fall that so frequently accompanies illness, old age and the kind of greedy bad luck that just won’t back down.

The Inexplicable Nature of Seed Pods

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image via aeliope.blogspot.com
image via aeleope.blogspot.com

University of Baltimore MFA student Ian Anderson remembers his teenage summers at the beach with friends who were like brothers until they couldn’t be any longer.

I was sitting on the step in the garage of Greene’s Bike Rental with my summer friends, Dominic and Marty. Dominic was a year younger than me, wearing a long, white t-shirt and gym shorts—his uniform. Marty was a year older than me, but the shortest and with the kindest face. We were waiting for the cops to show up. Mr. Greene assured us the cops were coming, and our parents. I was 14 years old, an age when angry parents are infinitely worse than anything the judicial system can offer. Mr. Greene kept walking around the garage, cursing, coming back to us, saying, “you little shits,” and then walking around again. I was scared. I think Marty and Dominic were, too, but they didn’t show it, so I didn’t either. The garage door was open, framing a blue sky with cotton candy clouds, the kind you see on postcards. The wind was coming in off the sea, cooling the streets of Wildwood, where my family rented an apartment above my grandmother’s beach house every summer. It was a beautiful day outside, but we were in the garage.