Aug. 22nd, 2019 04:37 pm
Dearly Departed
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muckefuckSo something I'd meant to write about but didn't was the ceremony on Saturday for the dedication of a tombstone to Mozhu's deceased husband.
I felt wonderful that I was able to be there for her, particularly since I'd missed the ceremony for the renaming of the street near their apartment. She made a point of mentioning that the picture I'd taken last fall of the sycamore shading his spot became central to the event. I'd noticed its use on the invitation; I hadn't expected there'd be, for instance, a naturalist on hand delivering a dendrological exegesis of the significance of the sycamore in American culture.
She'd wanted the day to be memorable, so far from being annoyed at the thunderstorms or the Air and Water Show, she celebrated them. I was particularly amused at one point when the celebrant was reciting the actual dedication in the chapel because she wasn't sure if the weather would allow her to repeat it at the gravesite or not. She'd barely gotten out the words "in this serene place" when through the open doors you could hear the roar of the El going past.
I love that you can see the spot from the El; every time I pass, I glance up at Lee's sycamore and think of what a pleasure it was to know him. It's so appropriate for an urbanite like him. (I don't know if he ever drove; I know they didn't have a car.) And it's thrilling to see him lying there now alongside some of the most impressive names in Chicago history. He'd be so chuffed.
The reception afterwards was a good time, even if I hardly knew a soul. As appears to be usual at these things, we talked about everything other than the deceased. We were never really kicked out, but stayed until well past the time the staff had cleared the tables they could and set them for dinner.
Afterwards I wasn't sure exactly what to do with myself so I ended up at a bookstore. It was a used one which used to be in Logan Square and only very recently relocated to Andersonville. I'd first stopped in about a month ago and had a reasonably nice chat with the owner. On this visit, we talked for well over an hour. I even ran around the corner to grab him a sandwich for dinner as a way of thanking him for his hospitality (so he'd better remember me next time).
I'd had notions about crashing a going-away party that night, but I figured I'd had enough socialisation for the day and stayed in. My neighbours couldn't believe I'd absent-mindedly left my back door open all day but they'd been around the whole time so no harm done.
I felt wonderful that I was able to be there for her, particularly since I'd missed the ceremony for the renaming of the street near their apartment. She made a point of mentioning that the picture I'd taken last fall of the sycamore shading his spot became central to the event. I'd noticed its use on the invitation; I hadn't expected there'd be, for instance, a naturalist on hand delivering a dendrological exegesis of the significance of the sycamore in American culture.
She'd wanted the day to be memorable, so far from being annoyed at the thunderstorms or the Air and Water Show, she celebrated them. I was particularly amused at one point when the celebrant was reciting the actual dedication in the chapel because she wasn't sure if the weather would allow her to repeat it at the gravesite or not. She'd barely gotten out the words "in this serene place" when through the open doors you could hear the roar of the El going past.
I love that you can see the spot from the El; every time I pass, I glance up at Lee's sycamore and think of what a pleasure it was to know him. It's so appropriate for an urbanite like him. (I don't know if he ever drove; I know they didn't have a car.) And it's thrilling to see him lying there now alongside some of the most impressive names in Chicago history. He'd be so chuffed.
The reception afterwards was a good time, even if I hardly knew a soul. As appears to be usual at these things, we talked about everything other than the deceased. We were never really kicked out, but stayed until well past the time the staff had cleared the tables they could and set them for dinner.
Afterwards I wasn't sure exactly what to do with myself so I ended up at a bookstore. It was a used one which used to be in Logan Square and only very recently relocated to Andersonville. I'd first stopped in about a month ago and had a reasonably nice chat with the owner. On this visit, we talked for well over an hour. I even ran around the corner to grab him a sandwich for dinner as a way of thanking him for his hospitality (so he'd better remember me next time).
I'd had notions about crashing a going-away party that night, but I figured I'd had enough socialisation for the day and stayed in. My neighbours couldn't believe I'd absent-mindedly left my back door open all day but they'd been around the whole time so no harm done.
Tags: