December 21, 2005--To Die For

First thing every morning, my father would open to the obituaries in the NY Times. Not to see who of the rich and famous had passed away the day before, but to look for his own name. If he didn’t find it there, he would put on his hat, tuck the paper under his arm, and troop off to the subway to go to work. Well of course one day he found his name among the obits—actually we did.

But to keep up family tradition, and ward off evil spirits, I do the same thing. In truth, not just to look to see if I’m there, but also to see how anyone I might know is written up, immodestly composing in my own head how I want to be memorialized. In other words, to see how the competition is doing.

While at this the other day, I came upon an obituary that made me feel a little envious. Not to have been included (I’m not quite ready for that) but about how I would like to be remembered. It was for Mary A. Littauer, who died at 93 (not a bad number) who was a “self-taught expert on horses of ancient times” (see full obit linked below).

I was attracted to the notion that it was possible to be so successfully self-taught that one could, in this now unconventional way, become such a leading expert, acknowledged world wide as the ultimate authority on ancient chariots and such. In an era of heightened specialization, where such global preeminence is reserved for the ultra-formally taught, it was encouraging to see that there might still be another way to become an esteemed scholar.

It was also a woman’s story—she had a beloved pony as a child; married an officer in the cavalry; raised children; did volunteer work; and when in her 50s her husband, whose health did not allow him to ride with her, because she did not enjoy riding alone, he encouraged her to write a book about horses. Rather than considering writing for children, which would have been expected, Mrs. Littauer decided to write in a scholarly way about horses in ancient society—when and how horses and men got together.

Eventually, after teaching herself ancient Greek, German, and Russian so she could have access to the texts she needed for her research, with someone she met who was a professor of Aegean archaeology at the University of Amsterdam, she wrote two books and more than 60 articles that are still considered to be definitive.

She was the first to argue that the earliest wheels were not, as had been the prevailing view, used on two-wheeled carts; instead proving that they must have had four since the soft sands of the Middle East would not have supported them if they had just two. And one day, while visiting an exhibit at the British Museum, she noticed that an ancient horse’s bit was displayed upside down and had the curator correct it.

Quiet a gal and quite an obit! I should be so lucky.

Again, no rush.