Eat Your Desert First

It was a bitter cold winter day about a year ago. The kind of day that causes a person to ponder why they've chosen to live in a place that makes their face hurt when they go outside. And further question why they have chosen a career that leaves them standing in a blistery parking lot on such a day. I knew then, it would be a long time before the thoughts that were running through my head would come to be a reality. But, I thought them all the same. You see, as surely as mountains are to be climbed and oceans sailed, your dreams are meant to come true. This is why we are here; to live the life of our dreams. Not to be tested, challenged and tried. But to conquer, champion and rule. So, I press on, knowing that the day must dawn when my thirsts shall be quenched and my dreams will come true. Never to settle for less or ever think it's too late. And to never, ever compromise a dream.

When I start planning one of my adventures, I never know how it's going to happen. I just start moving in that direction. I don't worry about the details of how. My only concentration is, what am I going to do when I get there? What wonderful memories will I take away from this adventure?

frozen cliffs

We left home at about 10PM. My apologies to anyone who lives in Ohio, but frankly, that state is flat and boring and I've seen it too many times to count. By starting out at night, we were through O-boring-O and even Kentucky before daylight revealed the frozen cliffs of Tennessee.

We put a lot of miles and a few kilometers on my little car on that first day. We reached our first  destination just before sun down the following day. It was not our final destination. And it was not the destination that I had dreamed of. But, I don't worry about the "hows", I just enjoy the drive. It was a destination that was tacked on like a desert to a great meal. And my grandmother always said to eat your desert first because it's the best part. So we did. That destination was Savannah Georgia.

Over the years we've heard a lot about Savannah.
With it's warm temperature and even warmer Southern charm, it's Spanish moss covered Oak trees and storied past called out to us. It's history of being known as the countries most haunted city, made it a natural place for us to investigate for a few days. Like many people, we fell in love with Savannah after the book and movie "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" came out in the 90's. It's a true(ish) story of murder in the midst of the elite class in the quaint city in the early 80's.

After a long slumber, we met up with Ed's cousin Mark and his wife Cheryl the next afternoon. Although they are originally from Minnesota, they are living in South Carolina right now and made the drive down to Savannah to join us on this big adventure.

Our first stop, as usual, was a cemetery. Bonaventure Cemetery is where the cities elite are known to be buried. It is featured in the movie and although it has been since moved, is the original location of the bird girl statue that is featured as the cover art for both the book and the movie. While much of the artistry of the tombstones are typical of the times from which they come, there are many unique pieces throughout that draw much attention if for no other reason than their beauty. Set against a backdrop of Spanish moss covered lanes, each families plot resembles a garden of it's own.

 So come along with me for a glimpse of Savannah's history chiseled in stone.

I had never seen a WW1 crest on a grave before. I've only seen them marked as "The Great War"

Many beautiful monuments in this cemetery were made by John Walz and many of them depict women with their bare feet exposed. The faces are actual images of the deceased.

These were four young children's graves where it is meant to resemble a cradle where the child is sleeping. Spring will bring flowers planted in the bed of the grave, covering the child like a blanket.

While John Walz carved elaborate monuments for families grieving their lost loved ones. The only marking at his grave is the step that marks the entrance to his family plot. He said his work for others is enough of a monument for him.

Gracie Watson's monument was also made by John Walz. Poor little Gracie was struck ill and died within 48 hours, leaving her family devastated. Soon after her death, the family moved to New York. She is buried here alone and her grave is one of the most visited in the cemetery.

A draped urn represents the Patriarch of the family.

The wife's grave would typically look like this.

This plot belongs to the Mercer family.

Johnnie Mercer was a well known song writer. His home in Savannah is the setting for the murder that happened in 1981 that is the basis for the book and movie that I mentioned above.

Jim Williams, a well known antiques dealer/ restorer was the owner of the home at the time and was the center of the story.

If you haven't seen the movie, I would highly recommend it.

 Johnnie Mercer was famous for many, many songs. They are listed here on this bench. The words cover all sides of this bench and I am sure that you know most all of them and even more sure that you will be singing at least one in your head after looking more closely.

 In my next post, we will visit some of Savannah's historic city and the Mercer/ Williams home.

Bigger than an Iphone 6

Many times in the last few months I have felt that I really missed sharing my thoughts with the world through this blog. Several times I've gone back over some of the post that I've done and wondered what direction, if any, I was taking. These are my thoughts on the matter.

I often try to post things that I find inspirational. If you follow me on facebook, you may have noticed this too. Over there, I try to keep things short and simple. This is where I can come to finish a thought though. And for some reason, you all seem to care what I think. Thank you for that.

Many times, as well, this has been more of a travel log of sorts. Chronicling my many adventures.

At first, I did not see how these things all went together. It seemed a little random to me. But what I have found is that A Brighter Side of the Grave is all of these things. Life is about the adventures that we share. We share them with family and friends as they happen. And we share them over and over again, sometimes for years afterward, with people that we meet along life's way.
 With age, comes experience. And I love the fact that I have inspired several people to experience more than they ever thought possible simply by sharing my adventures and experiences.

I'm not a materialistic person. I don't need to surround myself with things. I don't need the latest and greatest gadgets. In fact, I usually let others work the bugs out before I invest in anything new. But, what I do love to spend money on is adventure. Sometimes we can plan for a year or more for an adventure. Some people call them vacations, others call them holidays. I call them adventures.

These adventures give us something to look forward to. As the day draws closer, we find ourselves getting excited. When we embark, we can hardly believe that it is happening. And when it is over, we have stories to tell for the rest of our lives. Sometimes we don't even know how great the adventure is until after it is done. Have you ever planned a beach vacation to have it rain every day that you are there? I did. Over a year of planning a trip to Cape Cod and it turned out to be the coldest wettest month of June in the history of Cape Cod weather. We threw on some jackets and went exploring anyway. It was a wonderful time and I wouldn't have changed anything. On the way home, we stopped in Plymouth. We had planned a cemetery tour in the evening. We contacted the tour guide who informed us that everyone else had cancelled but since we had traveled so far, if we wanted to continue, to meet her at Plymouth Rock. We did. She handed us some lanterns and led us to the cemetery. The sun set and as she was trying to spook us with her stories, the weather worsened. A cold wind was blowing and the rain was coming down sideways. I think our stories frightened her more than her stories, us. By the end, we were drenched and frozen. It was an experience I will never forget and wouldn't change for anything. Stories that will last longer than any Iphone 6.

It is life's adventures that keep me going. I appreciate every second that I am given here on Earth. Sometimes those adventures are cloaked in the veil of every day work. But if you look closely, they are always there. In everything we do, there is adventure. And when you realize this, you will look forward to every day, not just your next vacation.

Just remember this, one of my favorite quotes by Mark Twain;
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

So, the adventure goes on....

Valley of Peace

I have a love of history. Not just the history that you read about in books but real history of ordinary people. That is why I find myself wandering the cemeteries and graveyards, lost in thought. I'm wondering what the lives associated with all those markers must have been like. You can tell a lot about an area or time period just by slowing down and reading the granite and marble carvings that fill our memorial parks. To view the graves of the youth that served their country in a time of war and gave everything they had can bring a tear to your eye. 

Just the other day, the cold snap ended and the temperature rose. This caused the snow to melt at an alarming rate. The fog was so thick and I found myself in an old cemetery, with no camera! The old statues in the fog gave me goose bumps. I didn't want to leave. I could almost hear the spirits speaking to me, trying to tell me their stories. Stories of real people that built this country, whatever small part it might have been.

I've lightly touched the haunting cemeteries of New Orleans and after viewing the area on Google Maps, I am looking forward to spending much more time getting to know the people that lived in that city in the past.

Speaking of Google Maps, I found this article and had to pass it on to you. Imagine the stories almost piled into this place....

When you see Wadi us-Salaam, which means “Valley of Peace,” on Google Maps, you’ll have no idea what it is. From a distance, it looks like a bustling, sprawling city in Iraq, full of neighborhoods and office buildings. It covers more than 1,485 acres, which is about the size of a small town in the US. However, when you zoom in a little closer (and do some research), you’ll realize it’s definitely not a city. Although it does have the people…

Looks like a city. Not a city.

It’s actually a massive GRAVEYARD. The record-breaking graveyard contains millions of bodies, making it one of the largest on earth.

There are more bodies in here than most cities’ populations.

There is a Shiite belief that says souls of all faithful men and women will journey there, no matter where their bodies actually are.

And there’s a military presence due to the violence that has often occurred here.

Taking a closer look, you can see tombstones and memorials for the dead.

It’s so big that visitors often use bicycles.

A man is seen mourning the loss of a loved one.

And religious leaders often come to pray and worship there.

People have been buried in the cemetery for over 1,400 years, resulting in literally millions of bodies there. It’s estimated that over 500,000 additional bodies are buried here each year.

During the Iraq war in 2003, fighters in the Iraqi militia frequently used the cemetery to hide in, ambushing enemies. They knew the winding lanes and mausoleums better than anyone else. Since the wars and violence, the graveyard has expanded massively.

Source: wikipedia

I've seen my share of large cemeteries, but this one is astounding.

Solo Cup

Big things are happening here on the brighter side. And with those big things, I am in need of help. So, I've been teaching new people to do what I already do best. Organize a nice straight line of cars to process out to the cemetery.

It was my newest employee's first day on the job. Since he's been a friend for some years, he'd had the pleasure of attending my brother-in-laws funeral recently. So he knew that sometimes funerals are more of a life celebration than a sad affair. But since I had no contact with the family that we were serving this day previous to the funeral, I had no idea what we were in for on this cool winter morning.

We arrived on scene and I proceeded to instruct him on the prep work that goes into making sure that we get everything right. We set up cones and signs in the parking lot to help direct the traffic and went inside to see what kind of car list we were working with this day. That's when I saw that the list was nothing more than a dozen names scribbled on a piece of paper so tiny that you could barely read them. There was little more description of the vehicles involved than "blue car" or "bike". Yes, it's winter. Yes, I just said bike. The deceased was a biker. These are always fun funerals.

As people started to arrive, we tried to sort out if they were on the list for the first line or if we needed to put them in the 2nd, 3rd or 4th lines. More and more people showed up. We still didn't have the family that was to go in the first line that follows behind the hearse. We couldn't fill up the second line because we needed to be able to squeeze the first line in  when and if they arrived. Finally, the last car in the first row arrived but still no sign of the others. About 15 minutes before the service started, the parking lot is reaching maximum capacity and some of the first row finally arrived. Some are on motorcycles and others in cars. They wanted all the bikes behind the hearse with the cars to follow. We did our best to accommodate them. Still more cars arrived even past the start time of the service. We were out of space and still missing some of the first row. We had people parked in lots across the street and next door, flagged and ready to go, with instructions to fall in behind as we processed down the road.

We were finally able to go inside to warm up. We got inside just in time for the mans theme song to be played. As the director pressed play on the cd player, she laughed and we soon realized why. She played Red Solo Cup by Toby Kieth.  And the party began. I'll let your mind wrap around that and jump ahead to our trip to the cemetery.

It is not the law, but is customary in our small town to pull over to the side of the road to let a funeral procession pass by. Out-of-towners may not know our customs and also sometimes when approaching from the opposite direction, it is difficult to tell what is coming at you. We've had this problem before and I've written about it. This time, it was the motorcycles behind my hearse that were riding in on-coming traffic, forcing them off the road. The director signaled to them to stay in the line but they didn't seem to want to listen. At one point there was a motorcycle riding next to the hearse in the on-coming lane. Fed up with this dangerous problem, the director called the state police. We were hoping for them to pull the offenders out of line. Instead, the police followed us to the cemetery and before we carried the casket to the grave site, scolded the bikers. No one got a ticket for reckless driving. But it didn't look so cool in front of all their friends. I don't think it did much good though. Just after the police left, they lit up the marijuana.

It was a great first day on the job for my newest employee. But if he can handle a day like this, he can do anything.

Windows

A few weeks ago, a photo blog that I follow had a theme for the week of windows. As people submitted their entries of different windows in their life, I thought of the windows in my life and the views that I have out those windows.

I'll start here with a view out the van window as I traveled up the state to pick up a body a few weeks ago.

 Then there is the windows that we just had replaced in the house we just sold. (There was a headache and a half)

 At least once a week, I get to enjoy some sort of stained glass windows in various churches that I visit.

 Most will have depictions of Jesus or some other saint. I just can't bring myself to photograph them for some reason.
I like these better.

 I always like this one. It is cut out of a door that leads to the sanctuary of a local church that is about 120 years old.

 A close up of the leading of that cross window (during a funeral service, of coarse)











Then there's one of my favorites. During a procession to the cemetery, as we pass beneath the Blue Water Bridges that cross the St.Clair River at the foot of Lake Huron from the United States to Canada.

Another of my favorites. This is taken from inside the cemetery chapel, looking out over the grave yard.















I know the quality of these photos is not the best. They were each taken with my phone upon a moments notice when I felt inspired. Usually trying to hide that I was taking pictures or even while driving.

I hope you've enjoyed the view from my windows.

The Odyssey 2012, Takes Me Home

Today, I found myself picking up a body from the airport. She had died in (of all places) Texas and was being transported home to Michigan for burial. 

 As I drove several hours through the city as well as the country side, I began to think of how lucky I am that I get to do what I love each and every day.

The fall colors are just about at peak right now. And while others are cooped up in offices, stores and factories, I get to enjoy these amazing days that the Michigan weather has given us.

The bright reds, yellows, dark greens and browns are a delight to witness. I realized that this is the first year that I've ever been able to see this. Standing in the cemetery yesterday brought a tear to my eye because of the beauty surrounding me.

My last post, we had taken Spencer to his first Gay Pride Parade. It warmed my heart to witness a young man like him enjoying being who he is instead of hiding himself like so many of us had to do in the past. His positive outlook on life now helps me to realize that he is capable of great things not only in his school days, but for years to come throughout his lifetime.

Now, to continue with our Odyssey....

On our last full day in Texas, the sun came out and warmed the air and our souls. We decided to visit the Arboretum where there was a traveling display of Chihuly's blown glass art. The combination of finely manicured gardens and the glass installations was inspiring.

Then to round out our stay, Spencer had requested a night out with his G'uncles. We were happy to oblige him.
When I left my retail job a few months ago, my co-workers pitched in and got me a gift card for my "retirement". I was directed to use it for something special. Dinner out with Spencer was the perfect occasion to use that card.

We left Texas the next morning. Sad to be leaving our friends. But excited to be heading toward home. But first, a stop at my old childhood home.

In 1981 my mother underwent open heart surgery to remove a tumor from inside her heart. At the time, she was a year older than I am now. As you know, she survived until just last year. It was a slow recovery though. So when my Dad's father died a few months later, our family wasn't in any shape to attend his funeral in Arkansas.
Before that year, we spent every summer there on my Grandpa's farm in the Ozark Mountains. I haven't been back since. I had decided that I didn't want to see either of the old houses. I want my fond childhood memories to be intact, forever. So I set the GPS for the cemetery to visit my grandfather's grave for the first time. Wouldn't you know, the GPS took us right past both of the old houses. The one house that my cousin now lives in looks great. The old farm house however, is suffering from time and neglect. I opted not to photograph either home and hold my memories and childhood photos close to my heart.

I managed past my emotions and found the cemetery. Ed was joking that he could "feel" my grandfather guiding him to the left as we entered the gates of the old country cemetery. Just then, he looked down and there at his feet was the headstones of my grandfather and his wife of many years.


Grandma Flo didn't seem so happy to see me though. As I reached to remove the clump of grass to photograph her stone, I found an army of ants crawling all over my hand. I let the grass stay there.

What was I thinking wearing flip-flops in a country cemetery in Arkansas?!

I felt like ants were all over me for the rest of the day.


After paying my respects to my beloved grandparents, we found our way back to the freeway and made it all the way through Tennessee and into Kentucky before stopping at 1am to rest for the night.






This Odyssey has changed the way I see things. For the better. This was no ordinary vacation. This was Odyssey 2012! And without a doubt, right here and now, as you read these very words with eyes that sparkle, this golden day, in a perfect world on an emerald planet while our hearts beat and blood flows and angels peer over our shoulders, I think we might be the luckiest people alive. To be living in this world right now where all this can happen, anytime we want to make it happen. Thanks for coming along.

But wait! Yes, there's more!......