A DAY IN THE LIFE: DEATH, THE SUPERBOWL AND 15 MINUTES OF FAME

The American artist and pop guru Andy Warhol said, as everyone knows, that every human being enjoys 15 minutes of fame during his or her lifetime. He was wrong. Most people don't get any time in the spotlight and listening to all those multi-billionaires complain about how traumatic fame is, we should all count ourselves lucky NOT to have to deal with any amount of it.

I spent last weekend in Iowa, attending the visitation and funeral of my fiancee's aunt. I never knew Mary Ann Ferguson, but Lori wanted me to go so I did. Six months from now we'll be married, so it seemed pointless to wait for two legally-binding words to take on the responsibilities of the husband.

So my future in-laws and I made the six hour drive to Lori's apartment in Kansas City and camped out there the night before the viewing.

While there, Lori and I suffered a humiliating defeat to her folks in a cut-throat game of Trivial Pursuit. Her old man is as much a sore winner as I am a loser, standing up afterward and announcing he's smarter than his doctor daughter and smart writer boyfriend.

In our defense, they've got age, wisdom and the love for the Discovery Channel on their side.

The next day we drove six more hours to Davenport, Iowa, which is approximately three times the size of Cape Girardeau. We checked into the Days Inn and changed before going to the viewing. I wore a black suit, but forgot my black shoes, so I wore the brown ones instead. You know, the ones with the leather shoe laces? Match that with my unhemmed new pants going down over my shoes, bought in a hurry and packed before I had a chance to even try them on, and you've got one sloppy looking young man.

I couldn't help thinking that Mary Ann Ferguson deserved more.

After viewing the body and giving my worthless condolences to people who didn't know me from Adam, the Ferguson clan and I went to the funeral home's equivalent of the break room.

There were sandwiches, coffee and television for the living. The Super Bowl was just starting and I admit it felt odd watching it knowing there was a dead body in the next room. I wondered if any of the players knew how little this game really meant, in the larger scheme of things.

That night Lori and I took in a movie, "Sense and Sensibilities," based on the novel by Jane Austen, a typical Austen story of a conflict between a member of the aristocracy and one who's not. It was a story of love and loss, the message seeming to be that love triumphs over all.

Being a female, Lori loved it and I, being a male, complained of a contact lens problem through the sad parts.

It's good that in the movies people tend to get everything they want.

I was reminded that real life isn't like that the next day while attending the funeral of a 56-year-old woman who, along with her kidneys, had finally just worn out.

As I said, I didn't know her, and her funeral shed no light on her life for me. Her funeral couldn't have done her justice, but I don't think anyone's does. I sat there for a little under an hour and the preacher, who probably, like me, barely knew Mary Ann Ferguson, didn't say many real things about her.

The preacher did say she was a nice lady and he did talk about the good job she did raising her children. Then he talked for a while about how relieved we should be that Mary had lived a Christian life and now she was guaranteed a place in heaven. These are fine accomplishments, but what does this really say about her as a person, as a human being?

I know that this is how funerals are done, but maybe they shouldn't be. Maybe they should be about the person's life and what kind of person he or she was.

What was she like? What did she like to do? Did she like country music or Stravinsky? What were her hobbies? What TV shows did she like to watch? What was her favorite joke? What did she like about herself? What were her proudest and, on the flip side, most embarrassing moments? What was her laugh like?

These are the things that make us interesting and, more importantly, human.

It's too bad that Andy Warhol is wrong about people getting 15 minutes of fame. I bet Mary Ann Ferguson would really have enjoyed hers.