In the Cemetery: Thoughts on Markers
My mother is buried in a large cemetery in a town to the adjacent north of Chattanooga. That is vague enough that no one will be too offended by this, if anyone reads it. I go to her grave about every two weeks, to make sure the flowers are all right, or to replace them (they are Hobby Lobby and Walmart fresh!).
When I visit my mother's grave, I always make sure the rainwater is out of the iron vase; I dust off any grass; I say something to her, and I look around at the nearby graves. If something is amiss, I correct it. The other day, while doing that, I decided to look more closely at the writing on the markers (all of which are flat to the ground). This proved interesting.
My mother's says "The Lord is My Shepherd." I think she would have liked that (by the way, markers are ridiculously expensive, another disadvantage of dying). Near her was a marker that said "Go Vols" under the names of a married couple. I was taken aback by that. Who really wants to go into eternity with that as one's final message to the world? I graduated from the University of Tennessee and that would rank maybe 151,297 on my list of things to put on a marker. I would no more put "How 'Bout Them Dawgs" on my grave.
But this is East Tennessee. I am reminded of a billboard above Knoxville on I-81 that bore four words: Jesus Saves. Go Vols. Talk about your moral equivalency--not.
Most had "In Loving Memory" or "Rest in Peace" or something of a religious nature. One noted that the couple had been married 49 years. Another that the couple had been married 68 1/2 years. I found the specificity odd. Another noted below the names of the couple "Parents of Susan and Tony." Did the parents want Susan's and Tony's names on the marker, or was this a bit of narcissism?
How we bury (i.e., dispose of) and grieve those we lose is a perplexing, fascinating conundrum. When I taught humanities I would use it as one of the themes of the class, which of course was uncomfortable for some of my students but it is an integral part of human culture.
I should end this by saying that I am one of those odd people who like to walk through cemeteries. In graduate school in Athens, Ohio, I lived right across the street from the well-kept (then, in the 1970s) community cemetery, and I liked to walk in it. I take advantage of walking in cemeteries whenever I can. I look for the oldest tombstones (the oldest in my town in North Georgia goes back to the 1840s) and other aspects of history found on them. My favorite place to walk is Chickamauga Battlefield Park, which is not a cemetery, as is Gettysburg, but is a place of memorializing many dead.
When I visit my mother's grave, I always make sure the rainwater is out of the iron vase; I dust off any grass; I say something to her, and I look around at the nearby graves. If something is amiss, I correct it. The other day, while doing that, I decided to look more closely at the writing on the markers (all of which are flat to the ground). This proved interesting.
My mother's says "The Lord is My Shepherd." I think she would have liked that (by the way, markers are ridiculously expensive, another disadvantage of dying). Near her was a marker that said "Go Vols" under the names of a married couple. I was taken aback by that. Who really wants to go into eternity with that as one's final message to the world? I graduated from the University of Tennessee and that would rank maybe 151,297 on my list of things to put on a marker. I would no more put "How 'Bout Them Dawgs" on my grave.
But this is East Tennessee. I am reminded of a billboard above Knoxville on I-81 that bore four words: Jesus Saves. Go Vols. Talk about your moral equivalency--not.
Most had "In Loving Memory" or "Rest in Peace" or something of a religious nature. One noted that the couple had been married 49 years. Another that the couple had been married 68 1/2 years. I found the specificity odd. Another noted below the names of the couple "Parents of Susan and Tony." Did the parents want Susan's and Tony's names on the marker, or was this a bit of narcissism?
How we bury (i.e., dispose of) and grieve those we lose is a perplexing, fascinating conundrum. When I taught humanities I would use it as one of the themes of the class, which of course was uncomfortable for some of my students but it is an integral part of human culture.
I should end this by saying that I am one of those odd people who like to walk through cemeteries. In graduate school in Athens, Ohio, I lived right across the street from the well-kept (then, in the 1970s) community cemetery, and I liked to walk in it. I take advantage of walking in cemeteries whenever I can. I look for the oldest tombstones (the oldest in my town in North Georgia goes back to the 1840s) and other aspects of history found on them. My favorite place to walk is Chickamauga Battlefield Park, which is not a cemetery, as is Gettysburg, but is a place of memorializing many dead.
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