Monday, June 06, 2011

3276 Morbid urge

Monday, June 6, 2011

“Progress ... is not the result of individual accomplishments, but the product of a vast human consciousness that contains ... a perception of purpose, potential, and need.... [The] contributions of any single person is not substance, but style.”
-- Les Kamm, letter in the Mensa Bulletin --


I've been bitten by an urge I don't quite understand.

By the usual circuitous internet links route I ended up this morning at this article,, about how people misquote the Bible. I then read the comments, which were interesting until people (as usual) stopped commenting on the article and began sniping at each other.

Many of the commenters in attempting to refute the author's arguments did not seem to realize that they did exactly what the author bemoaned - they interpreted the passages to suit their desired interpretation.

Anyway, I wanted to look up the passages in question. My late youngest sister's Bible happened to be on the shelf over the computer, so I pulled it down. My late sister had tucked in a newspaper clipping of my mother's obituary, and apparently my sister's mother-in-law had also tucked in a clipping of my sister's obituary before she sent the box of materials to me.

I read the brief obit again, for perhaps the third time since I'd discovered it, and was seized by a strong desire to visit her grave.

I'm not a grave visiting kind of person. I visit the place where Jay's ashes were spread, but mainly because it was one of our favorite places. Otherwise, no. I see no point. But for some reason I want to visit youngest sister's grave.

The obituary has the name of the town, the name of the church and the cemetery, and the name of the funeral home. It's smack in the middle of Georgia. The town is tiny. Google maps has found the church for me, but not the cemetery. That's disappointing. I would have liked to see the satellite view. There are many online lists of cemeteries in Georgia, but the one I'm looking for isn't listed anywhere.

I suppose I could call the funeral home and ask, but somehow I don't want to. I want to go to the little town this summer sometime, when I'm able to drive distances again, and to the church, and find her myself!

I lost her, and now I want to make the effort to find her.

No comments: