Tuesday, March 2, 2010


After the literary appreciation part of my cemetery tour was over, I moved on to the more entertaining making-light-of-the-graveyard part of the day. First off was the über-creepy wall outside of the cemetery, which featured what appeared to be a banshee holding back the dead in a mossy wall (many of the bricks have howling faces carved into them). Oh, and one of those "why do they have this?" signs, reminding people that "chillaxing and exaggerated dog-walking" (Tom's words) are not appropriate cemetery pastimes.

Next on the list: graves of people with funny names. First up, the B.J. Family (it's the third from the left, with the black door) and the Hickey Family:

Followed by the Big[g]ot and Prud'homme (Prude man) families:

Then, of course, came the zombie virgin Mary eating Jesus. (On the topic of zombies, there were quite a few graves that had sort of collapsed, revealing an empty hole beneath them that was, France-style, closed off from curious children only by a single plastic caution rope. Paris: PANIC. We may have zombies. If I start to write posts solely about brains please send someone after me with a sawed-off shotgun). It's hard to tell from the picture, but Mary really did have a hungry/blank expression, and Jesus looks terrified. She's holding Jesus up to her mouth pretty awkwardly, and as you can see, she's already been to work on his wrists and knee:
Another zombie-like entry. Yes, I understand that some people find it romantic when an undead couple continues to hold hands after burial, but when I die please leave dismembered limbs off of my tombstone:

Then there were some awesome, Addams' Family-esque classics:

And the oh-so-badass spiky, rusty chain approach:
And then there was just inspiration for dos and do-nots when it comes to desigining graves. For the record, Life-size statues of in a saucy playboy pose holding an artist's palette? Hot. (This is romantic painter Théodore Géricault, if you're curious):

Semi-3D portrait etching, however: NOT hot. To me this looks like Jacob Marley coming out of Scrooge's front door (though perhaps there's more of gravy than the grave about him...):And last but not least, the most epic tombstone I saw. Awesome.
(It also, chillingly, sums up my life right now...a crushing granite novel. All it needs is one of my fuzzy sock-clad feet sticking out of the corner, Wicked Witch of the West style.)

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