I have an old friend who lives across the street from a historic cemetery, one that is often used in movies. On Saturday there were film crews there for hours, but no one cared enough to ask the name of the movie or what it is about. I can’t pretend to be so jaded. I would have walked up to the barriers and asked questions.
We stopped by on Sunday, not to visit the cemetery or even visit friends. We drove over to buy from them a tandem attachment for our bike, but as we crested the hill above the cemetery, I asked the Mister if we could stop and take pictures on our way home.
I’ve always given cemeteries wide birth. I’m superstitious, prone to anxiety and guilty of overactive imagination. I’ve never understood those who wandered the grounds or laid on the grass next to headstones of people they’ve never met. It seemed ridiculous, like instead of tempting fate they decided to run up to it and crush it in a passionate embrace.
Also, I’m empathic. I always assumed I would look upon a stone engraved MOTHER and worry about the son, even if the dates make it likely that he stopped feeling grief for anyone (mother included) sometime during the turn of the last century.
I did a little of that, especially when I stumbled upon headstones for two toddlers only two years apart (1925-1927 was cruel to the Hernandez family), but for the most part I found the cemetery peaceful and quiet. Like the Mister said at one point, it was quiet enough to think.
I was sitting here, on a memorial bench for soldiers that overlooked the front of the cemetery, when Mikey received on my cell phone his first phone call from a school friend. A girl. She had questions about the Great Illustrated Classic Book Club Mikey and two other friends from school formed. Mikey mentioned the club on Friday at the bookstore (she was there with her mother and brother) while they sat on a weathered sofa and thumbed through a Great Illustrated Classic Frankenstein. He looked at a few pictures and decided it was too scary. She looked at the same pictures and decided it was right up her alley.
By Sunday she was hooked and called Mikey (with permission from the moms) to discuss the particulars. Frankenstein was turning out to be a great book, and she wanted more of the same. Mikey was impressed.
“I’m talking to you in a graveyard.” Good grief. I think he wanted to impress her, too.
I watched him walk in and out of Hughes and Lowery, back around Younglove and Covey, all the while talking about book club rules, ghosts, and zombies. I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and remind him he couldn’t possibly be old enough to be talking on the phone with someone other than a grandparent. Impossible.
At Coleman he stopped briefly to think, and then again started moving.
“That’s a very good question, Laney,” he said into my phone. “Well, I guess if we finish all the great illustrated classics we’ll have to look at everything we read, pick our favorites, and then read them again.”
If only we could use that same logic with everything we love. I would do it all again, too.
Oh my goodness – first phone call from a girl! A milestone if there ever was one. Love how you captured that sweet conversation and his wisdom.
I know, such a milestone. Though, I think at this age it’s just a phone call from a school friend who happens to be a girl. At least I hope that’s what it is!! :)
Best graveyard story ever! Action, drama, comedy, love–all in an ending that inspires. Sigh.
I do love visiting an old cemetery or two. My aunt lives across from one. She still lives in the tiny town in which my mom was born. We finally wandered around the cemetery last summer–oh the stories! Including a bit of a family intrigue . . .
This cemetery is nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen (on TV) in the South/East. Such history! I bet yours is lovely. CA can be pretty spare and modern at times.
I’m in love with Mikey’s book logic. Yes, once you’ve read them all, read them again!
A lovely post. Thank, Jules. You started my Monday off with calm and a smile.
Thanks, Frances. :) You know, I’ve never been a rereader. I do reread favorite passages–does that count?
I love visiting the cemetary where my father is buried. It is old, with tall tress and wide paths. I visit the family plot and say hello to my grandparents, aunts and uncles, my dad and the baby cousin that I never knew. Then I wander, recognizing the family names of people I went to high school with, and like you, grieving for the families who lost so many children that they quit naming them. Just “baby girl” or “angel baby”. It is very peaceful and gives me a chance to think and pray.
Oh, wow. Thanks for sharing, Gail. I was wondering if it was so peaceful because I wasn’t visiting anyone, but maybe it’s always like that? (After a while, I presume.)
That is the most pleasant cemetary story I’ve ever heard. Thank you. Mikey is such a treasure.
Jules, how did you explain the cemetary to your children? Do they understand death, and souls vs. bodies? My three year old daughter asked me just yesterday what the cemetary is. I have to say I was was perplexed by what to say. Any thoughts…
I didn’t explain it. Mikey understand because he goes to a faith-based school. That sort of thing is explained early on. Nicholas understands the concept, but when I admonished him about stepping in certain areas (and why) he looked a little stunned. I don’t think he’s mature enough to fully understand. I give him another year.
a phone call from a girl!!!!??? breaks my heart a little!
My would be broken, too, but I’m confident it was more a school friend who happens to be a girl kind of thing. :)
I just love this post! First of all, the cemetary expereince is very recent for me, so it touched a nerve. My mom passed in January and so we just went through the whole ordeal of her burial. My sibs and I love the cemetary where our parents are buried. It is home to the (President) Garfield memorial, John D. Rockefeller and family (gorgeous headstones), Harvey Pekar (local offbeat cartoonist whose life story became the movie American Splendor with Paul Giametti), Elliott Ness (think Untouchables) and numerous other notable Clevelanders, and regular folk like us. We chose it because it is beautiful with rolling hills, pathways for walking and jogging, picnic benches and the beautiful Wade Chapel, complete with a Tiffany stainglass window. They even have 2 hills planted with daffodils in spring that make a spectacular drive by on the way to work downtown. An added benefit is that it is closeby, in the city where we lived growing up. So, it is a place that I intend to bring a lunch in the good weather and sit on a bench and reflect. I am so happy that mom and dad are in such a beautiful place and it’s rooted in their hometown. Thanks for letting me have that good reflection based on your post. Secondly, I loved how the apple is not falling far from the tree and your son is starting a book club! What a worthwhile topic for conversation with a girl:) You should be proud. And we should take a page from his book–do it, love it, and do it again! Priceless–you better write that down in his baby book for future reference. On a delayed note–read Rules of C, but not in time for the book club. Of course, I read through some of the postings and spoiled things a bit for myself by getting ahead of the story. (Very impressive postings from everyone) I really liked the book and thought the writing was very good. Re the comments about it being a book about “social climbing” . . . perhaps so if you consider Tinker was the climber. I never thought Katey was. Also, here is a quibble. . ..the author used the phrase “spot on”. Is that an old expression, because it is now sooooooo overused. I hear it and see it in writing everywhere. Can’t imagine the author would not be authentic, but it sounded so “current” to me that it seemed wrong. Anyway, have blabbed enough. Great posting to start the week. . . .
Thanks so much, Jeanne! The cemetery where your parents are sounds gorgeous and calming.
As of Rules of C., I’m glad you liked it so much! And don’t worry about not being well read. I’m not really, either. :) Oh! And I think “spot on” is an old expression from that time period that is now popular once again.
A phone call from a girl. Does it start already? But it is just a girl right…like a boy, but female and interested in the same stuff. Not like…a GIRL. :)
We live fairly close to the largest cemetery in Vancouver. Just yesterday we were out for a walk with my parents, and they were talking about how peaceful it was there, and how different it is to the cemetery in Aberdeen, Scotland. There, the students sit on the large tombstones and have lunch – it is the best spot in town for a lovely picnic.
Recently, a new building was erected at our neighbourhood cemetery, and I’ve seen art openings and all kinds of celebrations happening there, which still seems weird, even though I’m totally ‘ok’ with cemeteries, just can’t imagine having a wedding at the cemetery – there are somethings that just don’t quite match.
I can’t imagine having a wedding at a cemetery, either! {shudder}
I’m talking to you from a cemetery – classic! Not a line I’ve ever uttered!
There is an amazing old cemetery in Savannah with pre-Revolution graves. My grandfather is buried in a different one – not as old but really beautiful and classic south – lots of trees and Spanish moss. If you do take a vacation to the south, you might consider Savannah at least for a day trip. -It’s full of incredible pre-Civil war homes. You can stay in garden apartments in many of these homes instead of hotels – it’s one of my favorite places (and where I was born).
There’s a historic cemetery near where I work. I will often go and sit there on my lunches when I need somewhere quiet and peaceful. I like to believe that if the spirits are lingering, they enjoy the company of a warm body. And if the spirits aren’t there, and the whole concept is a bunch of hooey-phooey made up stuff, then it’s just nice to be there. The grounds are well taken care of and it’s beautiful. Very few of my friends understand my appreciation.
Mikey sounds like such a grown-up little boy! You have a way of telling stories of your kids that puts me in the scene. I found myself smiling sadly at this story as if I understood what a mom would be going through, even though I don’t have children.
Thank you so much, Shaina.
I am the person you describe who is drawn to cemeteries. I love the history and imagine the people’s stories. This one is lovely.
The book club sounds like a great idea.
I know! I kind of want to start my own Illustrated Classics Book Club.
I’ve held off on posting a comment for a few days because, truthfully, I just don’t know what to say. The way you’ve weaved the sentences and the story, then wrapped it up in this perfect (without being a pretty little bow) conclusion… I’m in awe. A good story — even if it consists of graveyards and ghosts, books and little boys — takes us back to different versions of ourselves, and this one did just that. The way you write leaves me speechless, Jules. I read your blog because of posts like this.
Now I’m the one who is speechless.