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No. 220 July 24 30, 2002 Fire and Ice By TAD BARTIMUS A parent's death can bring out the worst in us. Festering rivalries and grudges erupt across a hospital bed. Heirs jockey for most-favored status and monetary gain. Legal papers materialize from thin air. Quarrels break out over medical treatments. Family members squabble over whether a loved one should die at home or in a hospice. When baseball legend Ted Williams died, two of his children, half-siblings John Henry Williams and Bobby-Jo Williams Ferrell, told each other: "I'll see you in court!" A corpse doesn't care whether it's frozen or burned. Ted Williams won't mind where his body winds up; he's no longer in it. Cremation or cryonics, it's irrelevant to him now. Ritual and closure are important to the living, not the dead. But Williams didn't much like the press. Compared to former Yankee Joe DiMaggio, the "Splendid Splinter" lived a quiet, unpretentious retirement in the Florida Keys. He gave few interviews and told friends he wanted to be remembered with respect. His only son and one of his two daughters threw Williams a curve ball with their public fight over his remains. Late-night talk show hosts use the fate of Williams' body as joke fodder. His fans cringe. His memory has been eclipsed, at least temporarily, by his turn as a national punch line. Ferrell claimed her half-brother spirited Williams' corpse to an Arizona cryonics laboratory so he could profit off the frozen remains, perhaps by selling his father's DNA. John Henry Williams didn't respond to his sister's charge. Ted Williams' other child, Claudia Williams, pleaded for peace in the family, although all three siblings have fought for years over accusations by each of them that the others were exploiting their dad's reputation for money. Ferrell even appealed to President George W. Bush and her dad's Korean War Navy wingman, former Sen. John Glenn, to support her "final mission to save Ted Williams" so she can scatter his cremated remains over the Florida Keys. She says that was his wish. The one true fact about the Williams brouhaha is that, except for its bizarre fire-or-ice twist, it isn't unusual. Nobody has a perfect relationship with a parent or a sibling. Stress stretches it. Extreme stress can snap it. Siblings who declare war on each other while a parent's body is still warm are as common as "Amazing Grace" at a funeral. Deep down, the Williams family feud is between "Dad loved me best" and "No, Dad loved ME best!" When a parent dies siblings frequently fight over money. But they're also jockeying for power and control. Their arguments are fueled by insecurity, grief, loss, jealousy and rage. It's about one-upsmanship, getting the last word. In "King Lear," William Shakespeare warned that ingratitude in offspring is "more hideous... / Than the sea-monster. / ... How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is / To have a thankless child!" When the object of sibling rivalry is gone, it's too late to claim victory in the "He loves me best" contest. Better to walk away with dignity than slug it out in the mud, obscuring good memories with bad. Baseball's greatest hitter knew that; his offspring don't. If Ted Williams' DNA is offered for sale, buyer beware
© 2002 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express written permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com |