Taps

The first time I thought about death was in September of my 6th grade year. We were sitting at supper when my dad said to my mom, “I talk to Wayne, he is going to meet us out there at 6:30.”

I asked where, and mom said we were going to meet Wayne out at the cemetery to pick a burial plot. Have you ever seen a 6th grader when he was getting sick? Yet, mom and dad didn’t seem to notice. They started talking about how much plots were and I tried not to listen, but then dad said something about three plots costing $500.00. Three plots? Three plots? THREE PLOTS! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! They were getting me one to. The closest I had been to death was my hamster dying and they were measuring me up for a hole in the ground.

I can remember walking out to the Le Saber my folks owned at the time and driving out to the cemetery with them, those are moments stuck in time. When we got out there, Wayne was waiting for us. Dad, mom and Wayne all spoke of people they knew and then got down to the business of getting us a plot. He dragged us to the back of the cemetery first but mom didn’t like that, it would be too hard for people to find us she claimed. Then he took us to the front by the road. He said people didn’t like it because it was too loud. Dad said that it was alright, he could watch the traffic go by. I thought Wayne was going to wet himself he laughed so hard. I guess there is nothing like grave yard humor.

Well as I said in an earlier post I turn fifty this year and mortality has crossed my mind. I have thought about my burial ground a little and here is what I want done; first burn me, I do not want to be put in a box and placed under ground. I am too much of a wanderer, let my soul remain free.

Second, I have five places I want my ashes spread. I want my old friend Virgil to deliver them to those places and spread them and say a little bit and perhaps raise a glass in respect. He can take his wife and some of my friends if he wants to, or he can go by himself if he wants to but I want Virgil to do it because I know it will be done fitting.

The first place in Virgil’s Odyssey will be the potato patch in Littleton. If my ashes can help grow food for people that need it toss a handful of ash in there.

The second stop is less than a mile from Virgil’s house it is on my beloved ‘River Road’. Less than five minutes’ walk from my house to the east is a creek that runs to the Wapsie. Drop in a fifth of my ashes there. Hopefully they will float to the freedom of the Wapsie. That river has given me many wonderful memories.

Virgil's next place will be on the grounds outside of Vets and Wells Fargo in Des Moines. I have many memories there and it is a place I dream to return to someday.

The fourth place I would like Virgil to take me are the Cliffs of Mohr in the Northwest of Ireland. The beauty and serenity of these cliffs rival any place else in the world, scatter my ashes there and let them blow around with the souls of the warrior poets that fought and won the revolution in 1917.

The last place I would like my ashes spread are on the highway between Abidjan and Yamoussoukro in the Ivory Coast. Few places have I been treated with such reverence and respect as I was there.

There is money in my will for this, so it will cost Virgil nothing.