Cemetary

As has been my usual pattern most every week for a few decades now, I made a late afternoon journey kitty-corner across the county in which I live to visit the large, old, Catholic cemetery to take a walk and visit the markers and gravestones of my many relatives and friends who have passed who are now buried there.  It is not the only cemetery in our county, nor is it even the only Catholic cemetery.... but it is the one that houses many more of my relatives and friends who have passed.  The last time I tried to count, I think that there are at least 35 relatives and another 25 or so friends who are buried there.  It is an enormous cemetery.   I always visit my parents and now my father-in-law.  But, I often visit other relatives and friends as well. 

Since I had taken the pipe with me yesterday, I carried it around with me at the cemetery.  I felt a bit foolish doing so as it was empty.  But, it felt nice to hold it while I walked, but it also felt sad.

I walked around, visiting the headstones and markers for probably an hour and a half... talking to my relatives.  As I got back into my vehicle and started to head out, I thought of the little bar.  And, leaving the cemetery, within a minute or so, I had reached the bar.  For whatever reason, there were probably close to 10 vehicles in the little bars' parking lot..... and for how small the place was,  that was a lot.  It seemed too crowded for me to want to stop, so I just drove on by and listened to some Art Farmer, Louis Hayes, and Miles Davis on my long journey home.  

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