Writing an obituary for one of my dearest neighbors. I feel so grateful every time a friend asks me if I would do the obituary -- for a historian like me, doing an obituary feels like an incredible privilege of listening and composing. And it gives me a path of grief.
But man, it's hard to write while you're crying and crying.
Here is the obituary: eastlansinginfo.news/elaine-natoli-…
At the post-pandemic memorial, Joe expects to speak for two or three hours about Elaine, “until somebody shoots me, or until Elaine’s spirit plunges down and wrings my neck and tells me to let somebody else get in a word. There will be a lot of music, I can tell you that."
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