The photo above is as blurry as any of the others I've posted here. I can't care because if I did I'd have gone through two Kleenex boxes by now. I'm doing the best I can and am a slow learner. If you wear glasses, take them off. If you don't wear glasses, grab someone else's and put them on.
Surrounded on three sides by water, Mathews has its fair share of waterfront property. There are homes on the Chesapeake Bay, the Mobjack Bay, the East, North and Piankatank rivers, and a multitude of creeks that run like veins throughout this county.
But here's a little known fact: Not only can you LIVE on the water here, you can spend your days of ETERNAL SLUMBER on waterfront property as well.
Yes, folks, I'm talkin' about a waterfront cemetery.
I live directly across the creek from a cemetery, a large one. The picture above is just a smidgen of the entire place; it's pretty darn big and it's on some primo real estate.
As a child I would swim across the creek to play in this cemetery, braving stinging nettles, crabs, eels, blow toads, sting rays and THE LOCH NESS MONSTER (because there is one, you know, here in the Chesapeake Bay--its name is CHESSIE, and it is a direct descendant of Nessie). But once again I digressie. (I'm a poet and didn't even know it.)
Anywho, as I've mentioned before, there was not much to do around here. After painting barn shutters pink and pulling up stop signs and toilet papering teacher's houses (sorry again for that), we next turned to the water and THE DEAD for fun. We'd swim across and just go rompin' and stompin' all over that grave yard (sorry, also, for that, but it sure was fun). There are many familiar and prominent Mathews family names represented there: Diggs, Hudgins, Owens, Marchant, Williams, Smith and Obama. (Just checking to see if you're still awake.)
Another little known fact about that cemetery is that many high school students go there to watch the submarine races. These races occur every Friday or Saturday night around 11:00 p.m. Check your local paper for race times near you.
Also, another great feature of this cemetery is its convenient location right across the road from the Little League field, where they sell The Best sweet iced tea and BBQ sandwiches. So, you can go visit your loved one's grave and hit the ball game right afterwards. Or vice versa. We're pretty laid back around here. Do what you want.
My grandparents, on whose homestead we now live, are buried there, along with my uncle. All my life I've said to anyone who would listen that I want to be buried over there.
Because I was born on the water and I want to be dead on the water. But I'll take the dead part a little bit later on, thank you very much. There's a whole lot of livin' left to do.
6 comments:
I haven't given much thought to the whole death issue, other than I'd like to be cremated. Maybe my ashes could be kept in a Pop Tarts box. I've not eaten Pop Tarts very often, but I always think I want some. Maybe it's a covetous issue.
Hmmm? Oh, sorry. And that picture doesn't look blurry to me. Which one of us needs glasses? Gotta go -- just over an hour before the submarine races!
I always think I want pop tarts, too. But I rarely follow through on the urge, even though I linger in front of the boxes in the store aisle. Weird.
I'd go for the cremation thing too, but I'd put my ashes in a jar of salsa. With extra cilantro.
And on the picture thing, a friend has informed me that it has to do with pixies or pixels or some such. It does appear blurry on my screen but as long as it's clear for everyone else then I won't worry about the pixies. Els.
Good picture, cbw
Yes, I had forgot about the times at Smithers cemetery. That was a great place to park and party. No disrespect to our dead loved ones.
This is a good place to go and look at the water and get your thoughts together.
Thanks for the reminder.
I can tell you some juicy stories. I can't put them on here though.
Your picture is very good.
Just checking in to let you know I was standing at your doorstep, scuffing my shoes, hoping to be let in. And hoping that your week is starting splendidly.
:)
You are such a dear person, Foolery. I have been slack in my blogging duties, but I have definitely not been a slacker in the rest of my life....
I promise to have something new up by Wednesday. Unless I get hit by a bus. In which case, please post something clever here in the comments section....I should add you as my Twin Blogger, born the same year and mysteriously separated to separate parts of the country.
Thanks for checking on me...and don't worry about wiping your feet. You can come right on in, dirt, mud and all.
-Cheeky
And now I find we have more things in common. I went to a small country church, with a cemetery right next to it. Where do you think they held the annual Easter Egg hunt for us churchy kids? You got it - the cemetery! Because nothing says eternal rest like a bunch of kids stamping all over your grave in search of real live Easter Eggs.
And we used real hard-boiled eggs, too, not plastic eggs filled with candy. And you know, we kids weren't very observant because invariably, one or two eggs would get missed, only to be rediscovered after the weather had warmed up and the teenagers came to mow the grass in the cemetery.
Good times, good times.
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