North Star Writers Group

I have always loved cemeteries. Maybe it’s because when I was a kid, my mom would make each of our pets – after they died – a neat little gravestone, carved with their name and a few other things that symbolized them in her mind. She’d put them (the stones, not the dead pets) in our backyard garden, and I’d be flooded with fond memories when I walked by.

Even better, though, are human cemeteries. Let’s face it. Between what you can find on the Internet, and what you can see on late-night television, there isn’t a lot of mystery left in the world. But at cemeteries, mystery abounds. I can’t help but walk through and wonder what these people were like. Not so much what killed them, but what they lived for.

So, given my fondness of final resting places, I’ve decided that maybe I could start a little cemetery of my own. I’ll divide it into little sections and make little gravestones for the things and people that – while not technically dead – are worth remembering only for the good times.

The sections will be titled just like the sections in the newspaper.

First, there will be the Business Section, full of little commemorations to jobs and careers past. For example, I tried to be camp counselor once, but I got fired when my kids showed up for the city-wide talent show and performed a rap song that I didn’t know had cuss words in it. (Oops!) I’ll put a big gold chain around that stone.

I also worked as a parking lot attendant at a large theme park. I had to quit because I’m Irish. Not that they ethnically discriminated against me. But the sun did, and after frying in it for a few weeks, I quit. That stone will be decked out in huge, funky sunglasses. Jackie O style.

There will also be an Entertainment Section, dedicated to the many things I used to think were great fun back in the day. Like keg stands. I wonder if anyone has ever been commissioned to put a beer tap on a gravestone before? Other stones in this section would include scrapbooking (a hobby that lasted all of 10 days for me – I just couldn’t take any more stickers shaped like blow-dryers and wedding cakes); online Euchre (I love the game, but I got sick of guys with avatars of the devil asking for my measurements); and poetry (I ain’t no Sylvia Plath; ’cause I’d rather go take a long bath.)

There will also be a Sports Section, dedicated to my short-lived career in competitive tennis. My high school team was undefeated, but hey, I come from an inner city. It wasn’t until I went to college that I realized that rich people took tennis lessons at the age of three – and could whoop most of us city kids by the time they were seven. This stone would be carved with the motto we had screen-printed on the back of our team sweatshirts: “Go hard or go home.” I went home.

And finally, what would my cemetery be without the Life Section, the perfect spot for little stones dedicated to ex-boyfriends and ex-friends. One of my exes was a huge fan of his guitar. Notice I did not say “a guitar player,” for knowing those first three stanzas in “Sweet Home Alabama” does not qualify one as such. His stone can be wearing earplugs, because that’s how I wished I’d spent more of our time together – and for more reasons than just the pseudo-guitar playing.

I’ve also got an ex-friend whose stone can be an enlarged can of hair spray. It was the 1980s – need I say more?

As you can see, I’m ready to go and break ground on my personal cemetery. And after writing about it, I’m digging the idea even more.

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