Cemetary ducks

Categories: Family, Life
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Published on: October 12, 2006

After I got done with work this evening Jyllian, Emily and I walked around the corner to the graveyard to feed the ducks some bread. It’s been a little chilly the past few days but it was still nice. The ducks and geese were hungry and chased us to get the food which was fun but I kept thinking of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Ducks”.

We walked around a bit more putting the flowers back in order and looking at all the old stones. There must have been some sort of event of holiday or something because there were a huge number of flowers in the cemetary, far more than usual. It was strange looking at the stones, their different styles and ages. I found one that was barely readable and well over a hundred years old. People apparently also buy family plots and put up marker stones when nobody is even in them which I find more than a little creepy. Like putting a bookmark at the end of the book when you’re still in the middle.

There also appears to be some serious competition going on in the more “well to do” area of the cemetary (which oddly enough backs up onto some pretty generic apartments and has a surprisingly poor view). The older area of the cemetary had the usual headstones you expect to see before the easily mown plates became all the rage. The standard headstone sized markers prevailed with a few celtic crosses and a couple of obelisks.

The newer “garden” area is downright gauche in comparison with markers clearly designed for the McMansion and H3 crowd. One monument was an upright slab of black marble that looked like the monolith from 2001 and had to be at least nine feet tall. Even creepier, the guy under it was a year younger than I am. When I die I want the biggest, gaudiest monument I can get. I want a fat cherub with an eternal flame shooting out of his ass and a big screen monitor with a video of me extolling my virtues in an endless loop. I want an eyesore that will drive down the local cemetary property values. I would then like to actually be cremated an interred under a small headstone in the old section of the yard which has been artificially aged to match the stones around it.

Or they can just feed me to the ducks.

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