Now begin unwelcome eulogies for John Edwards

I am reminded from long-ago college days of three kinds of drunks: first, the quiet, sullen sort who stew in their liquor, and second, the blathery, sloppy sort who give unattractive, cathartic declamations -- "I always loved you, man."

As a teetotaler, I tried to tolerate both the stares of the stewing sullen and the slurry orations of the swimmy-eyed seeking therapy. When the alcohol wore off, they might both be fine, but for tonight, they were drunk.

News of John Edwards's decision comes like a stillborn child, now less than an hour old. And the eulogies have begun.

Political reporters who haven't deigned to mention Edwards's name on live air for the past six months, for fear his message would take air from the meringue of their agreed-upon narrative, are now sitting vigil with the body, waiting for the 1 p.m. funeral in New Orleans. One can hear the Greek chorus in their voices: O, the tragedy of it all. Tragic, indeed, that a free press binds our opportunities.

I have seen images of John Edwards on television more in the past hour than I have seen in past months, not counting the debates. And the short clips being played now in endless loops are testament that so little footage of Edwards was actually recorded.

Pundits, whose living is made by the length of their analysis, are unspooling more opinions of Edwards now -- by telephone, as they've been caught by the news at home, without make-up and wardrobe -- than they've had to offer in a long while. And those I've heard yet are just as maudlin as those sloppy declamations from college nights: It's so sad but not unexpected. Such potential. But never had the money to compete. Great message. Influenced the race. Made the other candidates better. Fought valiantly for his principles. Champion of the working class. Raised the stakes.

Pour me another shot, hm?

But there's a third sort, which I've come to know as the treacherous drunk. These are the ones that, having lost the attention, communion and relationship they once enjoyed with others, go into 12-step programs and relish getting to steps eight and nine, wherein the drunk makes a list of those he's offended, and then happily calls on them to afflict more offense.

If you've attended funerals here in the South, you may have witnessed the phenomenon of the "unwelcome eulogy," that offered by ones -- long-estranged family members perhaps, or friends who parted company after offense, or offending -- who seek a little final attention, or to earn a fraction of grace from the body public (certainly not from the family). It is called the "unwelcome eulogy" because the family did not ask for it, does not want it, has no appreciation for it. Such displays are tasteless and unwarranted, as they serve only the speaker and truly do greater offense to the dead.

For if these eulogists meant their words, there was plenty of time to express the meaning through their behaviors in life. To club a man about the head and neck for weeks, then to offer soft words to his family -- under the guise of "paying respects" -- is offensive to the living as well as the dead. Treacherous drunks are worse than the sullen drunks or the sloppy drunks, because their afflictions upon others are pre-meditated.

John Edwards was the best candidate running for the presidency in 2008 on either side of the aisle. Those who knew it voted for him, or will. Those who didn't believe it, didn't and won't. From the perspective of a Southerner, the best way for those of the latter part to honor the end of his bid for the presidency is to let the family grieve in peace, not to line up to the podium to offer treacherous, public, unwelcome eulogies, aloud or in writing. They do no good. They do greater harm.

If, in time, the family seeks reconciliation, it will ask for it. It may not want it, certainly not now and maybe not ever -- and that is the family's right.

For now, let the body cool. For the love of God.