I worked until 8:30 or 9:00 Friday night, and then I told myself, “You are going to shut down this laptop and not even look at work things all weekend.” And I didn’t. But now I have it back on again and I am willing myself to not look at work until work time, and it’s KILLING ME.
Anyway. I guess the highlight of my weekend is I went to the cemetery with my ex-boyfriend, Ned.
Ned called me recently and mentioned there was a cemetery tour of this old, you know, cemetery near our old house. Back when we were house-hunting, the very first place we looked at was magnificent. Hoity-toity neighborhood. Two stories with a long porch in the front and just a lovely backyard. Hardwood floors, french doors that smoked Gauloises, a den with bookshelves built in, and?
Ned had to think about it.
Those of you who remember the heady days of Ned are all, Yeah. Of course he did. Anyway, we lost that place. But very close by was this old cemetery, and while Ned was THINKING ABOUT IT we talked about how we could take a walk in that cemetery every day.
The house we DID get was pretty close to that cemetery too, so we still ended up taking walks in there when we weren’t screeching at each other. (Our living together did not go well.) Anyway they have formal tours there, where they tell you about important tombstones and tell you about the botany of the place, which is quite advanced. Some guy—and I shoulda paid more attention but you know how I am, but he was some rich important guy—would go in there and plant whatever he wanted. So there are all these rare trees and plants in there.
There are also tombstones falling over from the tree roots of Mr. Plant What May putting things in and not thinking it through. So.
Anyway it was a perfect day to tour a cemetery–not too hot, not too cold.
Ned paid our $10 fee and we stood, masked, around 4 or 5 people waiting for the tour to begin. At the last minute a woman ran up, and naturally she was the sister of someone Ned used to date. Ned is the Hugh Hefner of North Carolina.
Anyway she was nice, and we all had a good time learning about what things mean what on a tombstone, and how some of the really rich people have simple stones, and the difference between a crypt and a mausoleum. (Door. If it has a door, it’s a mausoleum.)
We did find one part of the cemetery we’d never noticed. You know Vick’s Vapo-Rub? It’s my favorite smell, and it was invented right here in Greensboro during the flu pandemic of 1918. The Vick’s family, who you can imagine are rolling in it, have this sectioned-off part behind a brick wall, and it’s kept up beautifully and it’s lovely.
The whole tour kind of reminded me of when I was learning to drive. My Uncle Leo, of all people—and I say that because he is something of a distracted driver—was teaching me to drive when I was 15 going on 16, so we went to a cemetery to learn. The problem is, my Uncle Leo is obsessed with history, so I’d drive maybe a foot and a half, before he’d be all, “Oh! Stop! This is the Hoodebleedee tombstone! They arrived in Saginaw in 1412, and …” and then he’d be off. He did that all morning and incidentally I did not get my license till I was 17.
And no. I did not see any cats during my cemetery tour. I kind of looked. Because I’m low on cats.
I have to go. It’s now time for me to open the work email. I did it! I didn’t look early! Am a rock. Am a tombstone. Am a death parade, as my Uncle Bill would say when he can’t think of “funeral procession.”