it was pretty common for my mom and me to take grandma derry on cemetery excursions over memorial day. we would go visit grandpa derry in the st cloud cemetery, then head up to albany to visit relatives of the german persuasion from days of yore. the albany cemetery is a great location, and the huge, drooping pines and older headstones really make the albany cemetery one of those you’d see in a movie. (by the time my grandparents moved to st cloud and were looking at cemetery plots up there, the albany plots were very expensive.)
our first stop was a garden center to pick up geraniums and other flowers, then we’d head to the cemeteries with grass clippers and boxes. one year, jane came with us, and we headed out to the st cloud cemetery.
we pulled in by grandpa’s headstone and got out, grabbing our gear. grandma was taking a look at the grounds, and she motioned with her hand to the other side of the cemetery,
“well look – it’s all filled in over there.”
and i, being miss inappropriate that i am these days (and all days, every day, apparently), said,
“well, people die every day.”
that set off my mom giving me a look, and jane just guffawed. (grandma didn’t think anything of it.)
now it’s a running joke. we go to a cemetery – “people die every day!” i say something inappropriate – “people die every day!” memorial day rolls around – “people die every day!”
this may have been the time we cracked up about the untimely demise of grandma’s grandfather by horse-cart crash. was it the lumber? the new team? the cart? drinking and driving? WE WILL NEVER KNOW.