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Excellence in Life and Death

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Excellence in DeathCemeteries at this time of year seem to be the focus of several international holidays. Be it Samhain, All Hallows, or Mexico’s Day of the Dead; people will be flocking to their local necropolis. In our world that seems to fly at us at the speed of our local internet it seems ironic that as the year starts winding down, people still cling to ancient traditions.

If you haven’t visited an antique cemetery you may not have seen the artistically carved monuments memorializing individuals. Whether we want to think about it, we all will one day have to consider what will become of our remains. Will it be an urn on a mantle, crypt in a mausoleum, a simple pine casket in an old mountain top cemetery?  While we are considering that little aspect of life; our conclusion we may also take stock of what is important about our life.

Are we watching enough television? The cable and satellite carriers probably would vote no. When we are interned for eternity will we roll over when our sports team fails to win the championship? My guess is probably not. In the great hereafter we may have other more pressing concerns; like will our final resting place be demolished for a shopping mall.

In the real world, real estate is a shrinking commodity; it isn’t like there is ever going to be more than what we already have. Are we making the most of our environment and planning for future generations?

A stroll through Pere Lachaise cemetery in the 20th arrondissement in Paris reveals an abundantly rich neighborhood of the who’s who of the deceased. This was not always the case and in fact they struggled for the first few years of operation because so few were buried here. Indeed it is so popular now that one may purchase a lease for as little as ten years. As with everything else it doesn’t pay to be cheap. Sure, you got a great address in the afterworld for ten years, but what are you going to do when the lease is up? And that is my point exactly; we should value those little niches in our life where commerce does not trespass because in death as in life everything has a price.

Life is an adventure to be fully enjoyed!

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In the deep dark of unground Paris

In the deep dark of unground Paris.

Claustrophobia

We have all heard the word and we each may have our own comfort level with closed in spaces. I for one have been known to hike up as many as nine flights of stairs to avoid the elevator. Elevators are an amazing modern invention; when working properly. I can think of a half dozen people who all have had their day detoured to wait for one of those cars to be fixed. With my aversion to being closed in to small spaces and even more so to be underground, when I had the opportunity to visit the Catacombs of Paris I took Le Plunge.

I and my partner walked along with others willing to descend to forty feet below street level to see what the average tourist would not see from the Avenue Des Champs Elysees. It was a blustery day with frequent showers and I for one was looking forward to getting out of the weather. Hmm, the deep places of the world have their own environment and the atmosphere was as rich there as it was up on the street.

My grandparents lived in a home that was built just after the conclusion of the American Revolution. The two floors that were their primary living space was cozy and inviting and I still miss my grandmother’s African violets that lined nearly every window. The kitchen contained a large old fashioned cast iron stove that would come into service any time the power went out. Their home was a magical place with plenty of fresh baked bread and a fish pond in the back yard too.  But every wonderland has something scary too; Alice in Wonderland had the Jabberwocky and my grandparents had a seriously medieval cellar. It was filled with anything and everything anyone might have had a use for in the past two hundred years. There were cobwebs and spiders and the holes in the wood floors were large enough accommodate serpents as well.

Did I go downstairs often? You bet I did. My grandfather was a carpenter and he had his workshop in the cellar as well. As afraid as I was of meeting a serpent curled up in the corner I still wanted the freedom to make things from the bits of lumber leftover at construction sites. I learned a lot of skills at my grandfather’s workbench; it is okay to be afraid and even intimidated to do the unknown but don’t let your fear put you in a box.