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Give me a grave in the ground

June 13, 2008 - Paul Giannamore
On Memorial Day, we made the annual pilgrimage to Mount Calvary Cemetery to put flowers on graves. The list of headstones in need of attention from me and The Boss grows annually, to the point where we didn't have enough flowers this year for everyone on one trip. We underestimated the number of dead we care about.

But that brought up the usual annual discussion. The Boss has a space in the ground next to her mom. My late mother-in-law, who I usually nicknamed The General, often chided The Boss, telling her to trade that plot for another one where The Boss could be buried next to me.

And for years, we said, Yeah, yeah, death, destruction, blah, blah, blah.

Except now, unless we're going to live to be 90, we're past mid-life. So this stuff gets important.

Now, The Boss says she'd have no problem going Mausoleum on me.

I think of it as the old Works in A Drawer RCA TV. Just slide it open and whoah! There's old Pablo. Looks a little worse for wear.

Give me a hole in the ground.

Or, just start buying extra tinfoil now and wrap me up and set me out back on Thursday morning. I'd still end up in the ground that way.

 
 

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