|
On a bright and blustery afternoon a few days before the last Monday of May, while ambling with his father and a family friend through a cemetery in Galloway County, Wisconsin, David C. Fischer took note of various declarations of affection carved or etched upon memorial markers in the fresh-mown spring-green grass. A sweet scent of lilacs drifted on the breeze. Something of a skeptic, something of a crank, Fischer wondered how often the affirmations had been delivered aloud to the departed before they had departed. Fearful that his proficiency at blushing will not cease when he is dead, but doubtful that he will have anything laudatory to blush about, Fischer resolved to post his preferences where they will be promptly found: No obit, no services, no stone. Please cast my ashes upon the waters of Mallard Creek, at the family farm, and go on about your day.
♦
|
