Sleepy sent me this photo as a result of yesterday's post. I find it interesting for a couple of reasons, three in fact.
Firstly, I think a gravestone is a kind of touchstone. The mortal remains of two groundbreaking writers lie beneath it, in a literal sense, now that they are dead, they are more accessible to everyone. You or I can stand not six feet from their bones. Not working for you? No, just that I'm not explaining it well. If they were both still alive, they would be living legends, but no more physically real than say Father Christmas. Sure, we have their books and we could see them on TV, but then I've seen the result of Father Christmas's work, felt the sack of presents at the bottom of my bed on Christmas morning. And I've certainly seen him on TV. But I can never stand six feet away from him physically.
With de Beauvoir and Sartre, it would be possible, but highly unlikely. Now however, I know where they live.
Secondly, there's cultural significance to it. I have only seen one cemetery since I have been here, I know they exist, but in Europe they are far more visible. Most churches have a graveyard and then there are the public ones where you can wander and pick out families, sometimes stories and look at names and dates.
Thirdly, they are in the same grave. This is only possible if the two people die some time apart. I guess it might be possible if they died actually on the same day because you could then dig a deeper hole. But in order to bury someone in a grave that has already been dug, the coffin needs to sink down into the soil quite significantly. My parents had to be buried side by side because they died so close together in time.
Yes, I appreciate that I should have gotten over my Gothic phase by now but, well, there it is.
And moving on..this struck me as a sort of 'witch on a ducking stool' kinda story, a woman has been found criminally insane for throwing her three children off a cliff to their death. But it seems to me that if you are really insane, then you throw yourself off too. Throwing your kids off and continuing to live sounds like the work of someone who is just criminal. But then, like I said, in my justice, witch, ducking stool, if you drown you weren't a witch, if you float, you are and we burn you. Better to drown really.
The number one hobby in North America, so someone said on the TV yesterday, is scrapbooking. Give me a break, it's watching TV, I know it is. Anyway, scrapbooking. I thought this must mean something other than what it sounds like, making a scrapbook. It's the kind of thing you might do, but not want anyone else to know about, sort of like having thoughts about gravestones really.
But you'd be wrong. Nope, there are actual shops here called 'scrapbooking shops'. I've never been in one in case they cast a spell on me and I turn into a Martha Stewart - a-like. I have parked behind a car that had advertising all over it for some scrapbooking service or another. What can I tell you.
This morning we have a fresh sprinkling of snow. This I love so long as it doesn't in any way affect my plans for the day. And I have plans for the day. Ho hum.
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6 comments:
I love boneyards! Especially old ones.
What IS 'scrapbooking' then?!
Well, so far as I can ascertain, it means just that, making a scrapbook. Apparently you need frilly bits and general accoutrements. Big business it seems, not like when we were little and had a book of several pages of sugar paper and a picture of a dog or a kitten on the front.
wikipedia entry
-k
Holy Shit!
That is beyond wrong! That is... I can't even put it into words...
Well, think of the good things that come of it. Soccermoms kept indoors for hours at a time instead of driving their big old SUV's (4x4's) to the grocery store for milk.
People who do that shit shouldn't be anywhere near children.
Unless they are Infant/Junior school teachers, where cutting out and sticking in forms a large part of their day.
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