Thanks for the added detail, Biplane, but how did they resell the plots, when living relatives were still visiting those graves?

And, Philnic, what? A little Soylent Green, there?

Dandelion, that is a good question and I think that was part of the problem in addition to the disgruntled employee. Things were not as they should have been when relatives visited. I will try to do some research on it and see what I can come up with. The cemetaries were called The Minora Gardens.

A couple of anecdotes and then an observation.

When I was about twelve I could walk through a trellis behind my aunts home and into the back yard of her neighbor, a widow whose husband had had a butcher shop in their garage. I needed a tutor in math, she was it and I was terrified of the old women. She was old and wore black dresses with white lace and the inside of her house was dark; old like her and to me, spooky. I’m ashamed now to realize that I was too immature to recognize her kindness and loneliness and her potential, if I had asked the right questions, as a time machine.

Years later, when my daughter was about four, we went for a walk one summer evening up to the corner grocery, had a snack under a big oak nearby and took a walk down a nearby street when she recoiled in total horror at the sight of a stop sign. I sat her down on the curb and asked her about it but she couldn’t tell me why it terrified her so and to this day neither of us have ever solved the mystery.

Now if Ray and people like him have memories like this they can turn them into stories. But most of us can do nothing with them. They just come and go. The world is full of people with memories like that but only a few, like Ray, can do anything about it. Thankfully there are those few.

Just reread a passage in “The Magnificent Ambersons” were Tarkington, talking about a time early in the Twentieth Century, has fun with a subject Ray feels strongly about. Chapter XVIII, one paragraph, about one page in. Starts with “There, in the…” and ends with “…came.”

"There, in the highway, the evening life of the Midland city had begun. A rising moon was bright upon the tops of the shade trees, where their branches met overhead, arching across the street, but only filtered splashings of moonlight reached the block pavement below; and through this darkness flashed the firefly lights of silent bicycles gliding by in pairs and trios--or sometimes a dozen at a time might come, and not so silent, striking their little bells; the riders' voices calling and laughing; while now and then a pair of invisible experts would pass, playing mandolin and guitar as if handle-bars were of no account in the world--their music would come swiftly, and then too swiftly die away. Surreys rumbled lightly by, with the plod-plod of honest old horses, and frequently there was the glitter of whizzing spokes from a runabout or a sporting buggy, and the sharp, decisive hoof-beats of a trotter. Then, like a cowboy shooting up a peaceful camp, a frantic devil would hurtle out of the distance, bellowing, exhaust racketing like a machine gun gone amuck--and at these horrid sounds the surreys and buggies would hug the curbstone, and the bicycles scatter to cover, cursing; while children rushed from the sidewalks to drag pet dogs from the street. The thing would roar by, leaving a long wake of
turbulence; then the indignant street would quiet down for a few minutes--till another came."

(Sounds like my uncle's account of my dad's trucking days: there was a "telephone grapevine" to advise, "Get your pets, chickens, and children out of the road; Shields is coming!")

Just saw “The Legend of Zorro” over the weekend. The critics hated it. I don’t know what planet, dimension or ether they’re from but I’m here to say defiantly that they are full of hooey! What they are saying is strictly the bunk! The audience was full of kids. They didn’t do any of the things that bored kids will do. They were mesmerized. And they clapped, cheered and laughed in all the right places. And so did I. I felt twelve years old again. My sense of wonder was renewed. And I hope Ray gets a chance to see it because I think it would give him a smile. And I hope he gets to see a lot more like it. Critics! Nuts!

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Chapter 31,

Chapter 31, you're absolutely right about the nature of a lifetime of anecdotes. I know there's not only a great story in the grave marker incident, but if you gave it to 30 different authors they'd come up with 30 different great stories!

Certainly I'm aware that a master such as Edgar Allan Poe, Saki, Ray Bradbury, or Stephen King can weave great stories from small beginnings. Then there are authors such as James Herriot who tell their own stories, fictionalized in places, but so skilfully that a reader needs to be informed "what really happened and what didn't," or Thomas Wolfe, who essentially told his own life, but in such a way as to brilliantly illuminate many facets of the human condition. And sure I wish I could do that!!!

I haven't given up on getting something right at some point, but I really need to stop beating my head against the wall over NOT being able to turn all of life's events, even the unusual and somewhat macabre, into great fiction. I'm working on being aware of what others have done, without ending up with a sore head for what I have been unable to do. I will say that so far I've concentrated on just collecting and saving the anecdotes themselves, without worrying about the "spin" that I or someone else might put on them later.

Here's another cemetery conspiracy for ya: http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-remains5nov05,1,2754889.

Here is enough wealth to fill volumes of macabre tales: http://www.abbottandhast.com/mm00.html

Talk about free dirt!

dandelion, absolutely totally AMAZING!

The opera house has much to offer. I like the photograph and the vivid description given there.

This was released to the media yesterday (Dec 6th, 06). There are a whole series of photos depicting a possible stream of water on Mars in a specific location. Click on all of them:

http://www.jpl.nasa.gov/multimedia/slideshows/mgs-20061206/index.cfm

Someone asked him last night if he was aware of this, and he said he saw it on the news that morning, and "I told you so!"

Let's hope that there will soon be Martians on Mars, and that they will build Bradbury City!

Wow. Really good photos. In one, I'm almost sure I can see the poet Harry Harpwell strolling and singing; or it could be Captain Wilder, or Cara Corelli's maid...?