![]() ![]() My favorite all-time cemetery is in Cross Creek, Fla., where the writer Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings is buried. They only thing I'd have to supply was a death date. ![]() Once, when I was between husbands, they offered me a marker beside them as my Christmas present. ![]() Whenever I'd come home for a visit, we'd sit for hours as they rehashed the minutia of lot sizes, placement and tombstone wording. My parents planned their burial spots in detail when they were still relatively young. I know from personal experience the word was on the spelling test for employment at the Memphis, Tennessee, newspaper, along with "lightning" and "inoculation." My late husband, a journalism professor, routinely told his students that if they could spell "cemetery," they'd get a job. It wasn't a successful outing unless a cemetery was involved.Ĭemetery importance did not diminish after childhood. My mother saw to it that we visited the cemeteries where important men are buried: Confederate generals, distant relatives and Hank Williams. ![]() We battled the ants for our deviled eggs served atop our more stable kin. They were part of our education, recreation and, too often, conversation.Īs a child, my grandmother spread a tablecloth over a grave slab for our picnic. ![]()
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