My brother died when she was three, and on the way to the cemetery, she was fretting about the fact that we had not brought our “babin suits” (bathing suits) with us. It worried her that she was unprepared for this trip. It worried me, trying to figure out what in the world she was talking about. Finally, I wised up and realized that the most direct way to understand something is to ask a question, and I asked her why she thought we needed our bathing suits. Her answer? “Because we’re going to the swimetery.”
Here are a few photos from last Saturday's visits to several swimeteries.
There were several of these metal monuments. I am amazed that the names and dates can still be read. There is a sheet of glass protecting whatever the words are printed on. I thought it was paper, but logic tells me that paper would have deteriorated by now.This one is hand carved. Can you imagine the work that went into carving this? I wonder how long it took and whether the carver knew the dead person.
Though I admire his qualities, I can't decide whether all those things would make for a likable person or not. One thing is for sure, I could use some of that antique courage. The lack of punctuation bothers me, and the poetical part of me would have taken slightly different line breaks.I include this one for Spooky Rach's inspection. I am curious to see if she has ever seen in all of her Texas cemetery travels a cowboy hat tombstone complete with cowboy boot vases.
And finally, I conclude with a photo ripe with symbolism. There are several of these monuments in two of the cemeteries we visited. I think they have something to do with Woodmen of the World, which I know today is an insurance company.