The Plot Thickens

As children growing up, my sisters and I spent more time in cemeteries than your “normal” children would have spent. My mother got bit by the genealogy bug about the time she was pregnant with me – I refuse to accept the blame for this, though. As a result, most vacations in my life have included one or more of the following: cemeteries, county courthouses, libraries, meeting total strangers to whom we might be related, and visiting property formerly owned by ancestors.

Just this weekend, my sister Holly and I were recollecting the vacation where we drove somewhere (I think Virginia, she thought Tennessee) in the old orange pickup truck and us three girls sat in the back of the pickup under the camper top, in the pouring rain, while mom and dad went into the courthouse and spent HOURS doing whatever it is they did in there. I remember it as being especially harrowing since A) I was under the direct supervision of my two sisters (the same two who laughed when I, a precious toddler of about 3-4-ish, touched a bumble bee which happened to be sitting on my head and it stung me, and I cried – humpf); and #2) we were parked right beside the swing sets and because of the rain, I couldn’t get out of the camper and go have fun… I’m sure I was bored in the truck with the twins because all they did was read and I seem to recall being 8-ish and probably hadn’t fallen in love with reading all that much yet. Sigh..

This wonderful bit of enjoying the memories occurred because Holly tagged along when mom and I, along with our aunt and uncle, met the guy in charge of such things at the cemetery a half mile down the road from where we live to see about getting some cemetery plots of our very own! It’s a lovely, peaceful cemetery at the top of a hill – when I feel inspired to do a little exercise, I’ll trot down to the cemetery, listening to my iPod, chat with the residents, and then trot home.

We got ourselves very nice spots on the top of the hill. Marilee said that if we chop down a certain tree, she can see her house! Oh, and I have discovered someone new to chat with on my walks. His name is Algae – yes, we’ve been assured that is his real name – and he’ll be my neighbor when the time comes. If you look at the picture, Algae’s tombstone is the one in the bottom left. I will be getting the plot directly to the right (as you look in the picture), then Mom (the woman on the left) and Dad’s ashes, then Aunt Marilee, and then Uncle Doug gets on the other end. Doug and I discussed his wanting be closer to me, as I’m his favorite niece, but I really wanted to be beside Algae, so Doug had to pretend to be ok with not being beside me.

Anyway, I’m thinking that next time I go to Lowe’s, I’ll get me one of those concrete benches and a beach umbrella. Then, when I trot down to the cemetery, I can take a book and read to Algae. He’s buried there all by himself, we were told that he died a bachelor, so he isn’t waiting for a wife or kids to join him. I figure he’d like the company. Of course, the book I’m currently reading is on the iPod, but that just means I’d have to put one of the earbuds onto Algae’s stone. I’d think the sound would resonate through the stone and amplify so Algae can hear it, right?

So, Algae, welcome to the family! ... and... I'm sorry. See ya later, much later.