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geek2hipsterRemember the time we went to the cemetery?
I know, we've gone to lots of cemeteries lots of times. I mean the first time we went to visit my gramdma Jo. It rained the whole way up, like three hours, and then when we got there it just sprinkled while the sun was out.
She was beautiful, my grandma Jo. Josephine Butcher. Wife, mother, stage performer. She was elegant. Regal! Her 'performing tonight!' posters make her look like one of those black and white stars that seemed so far removed from the average schlub that she was divine. You know the type - like Greta Garbo.
She had this voice that was just...just stunning. Well, I guess it'd have to be, she was a famous singer, after all. And she could sight read! Look, you know I can tinkle around on the piano a little, I know a few songs, and I can even work out what the notes are on something I've never seen, but it takes me some time and practice to make it sound like music. Grandma Jo...you could put sheet music in front of her that she'd never laid eyes on in her life and she'd just play it. She could read it like reading a book, and play it like she was tapping away at a typewriter, and it would sound perfect, every time. She was like a musical savant! I can barely remember that Every Good Boy something something.
She was a hard woman, I've been told, but she sure loved her grandkids. She did not like mom. And mom's dad didn't like dad, obviously. Their babies were far too good for one another. But grandkids tend to bring out the best in bitter old people who had bigger dreams for their kids.
Anyway, we went to the cemetery, and...I dunno, I was just thinking about it. Cemeteries are nice on their worst days, but during a faint sprinkle, with the sun hitting the grass and making it shine, it was especially peaceful and pleasant. Or I thought so, anyway. Afterward, we went to a local cafe and bakery with brick walls and Edison lights. I bought a French silk pie to bring to my mom, and we listened to indie folk on the way home. Not the whole way, there were some 80s tunes mixed in.
All in all, I thought it was a really good day.
I know, we've gone to lots of cemeteries lots of times. I mean the first time we went to visit my gramdma Jo. It rained the whole way up, like three hours, and then when we got there it just sprinkled while the sun was out.
She was beautiful, my grandma Jo. Josephine Butcher. Wife, mother, stage performer. She was elegant. Regal! Her 'performing tonight!' posters make her look like one of those black and white stars that seemed so far removed from the average schlub that she was divine. You know the type - like Greta Garbo.
She had this voice that was just...just stunning. Well, I guess it'd have to be, she was a famous singer, after all. And she could sight read! Look, you know I can tinkle around on the piano a little, I know a few songs, and I can even work out what the notes are on something I've never seen, but it takes me some time and practice to make it sound like music. Grandma Jo...you could put sheet music in front of her that she'd never laid eyes on in her life and she'd just play it. She could read it like reading a book, and play it like she was tapping away at a typewriter, and it would sound perfect, every time. She was like a musical savant! I can barely remember that Every Good Boy something something.
She was a hard woman, I've been told, but she sure loved her grandkids. She did not like mom. And mom's dad didn't like dad, obviously. Their babies were far too good for one another. But grandkids tend to bring out the best in bitter old people who had bigger dreams for their kids.
Anyway, we went to the cemetery, and...I dunno, I was just thinking about it. Cemeteries are nice on their worst days, but during a faint sprinkle, with the sun hitting the grass and making it shine, it was especially peaceful and pleasant. Or I thought so, anyway. Afterward, we went to a local cafe and bakery with brick walls and Edison lights. I bought a French silk pie to bring to my mom, and we listened to indie folk on the way home. Not the whole way, there were some 80s tunes mixed in.
All in all, I thought it was a really good day.
no subject
on 2020-06-05 05:26 am (UTC)And yeah ... I remember. I remember wondering why the hell you thought going to a cemetery was your idea of a good date. But ... you won me over. I have no idea how, but you totally did. I think ... it was listening to you tell the stories. I like your stories.
no subject
on 2020-06-06 02:11 am (UTC)Not that cemeteries don't make good dates, as evidenced by the several we've done. They're free to visit, they're quiet, outside, easy to walk, you can have a picnic, get involved in the history of a place, ghost hunt, and it's a departure from the cliché.
Better than a surprise mountain hike. O_______O
You remember that?
Do ya?
How many times did I say not to drag me up a mountain in a dress?