Cemetery, Screaming, and Blood

Currently I have 19, yes 19, awful mosquito bites. This matches my record for bites in one day's time which happened in China. . .

However, let us not dwell on such things. Today was an exciting day because I hit 208 pages on the story I'm writing. Then I was met up at the coffeeshop by Kristine and Phillip. Oh, and I had a job interview to work a few hours a week at a social welfare place as a mentor.

Kristine, Pip and I spent a lovely evening in the park on the gazebo writing, talking, reading and watching the green trees dipping and swaying gently. Lovely. A pleasant time broken up only by the ehcoing screams of someone in the sanitarium. Yes, our park has a large sanitarium complex, I know we are to call these mental health centers, now, but too bad.

We spent some time discussing local history. Really we live in an amazing place. Underground railroad, Grant's camp-out, the sanitariums, the colleges, the theatres, ferris wheel, blah! Lots to talk about. Our discussion prompted me to mention the unmarked grave field at a nearby cemetery where sanitarium residents are buried.

At the graveyard we walked amongst the browned, toppling stones, each heavily weathered and bearing no name, but a few had a number. At the end of the grave field there were five long rows of people buried from 1947-1953 and they all had names and some even birthdates on tiny copper plates that had long since turned green. Visiting cemeteries always bring to mind the quote on a famous English churchman's grave. "As you are now I once was and as I am now you will be".

What a most pleasant day.