The greatest epitaph: ''Here lies Jack Williams. He done his damnedest.'' Harry S. Truman 1884-1972, thirty-third President

If you have ever seen an older cemetery during Easter or Memorial Day you’ll know what I mean. There are little if any decorations on the graves. There is no color from flowers or religious symbols as the people that would have placed these decorations are themselves dead. The eternal residents of our cemetery are totally forgotten and unknown. They are cast aside. “Known only but to God,” the epitaph should read; to God and the Records Department of that cemetery which has the holdings to those plot of ground. These are the remains of the grandparents, great-grandparents, great-aunts and uncles of several generations ago.

The cemetery grounds are just as hallowed today as they were one hundred or more years ago; just as sacred as that time when dignitaries and clergy spoke those endearing, visionary words. But now they lie within the boundaries of the inner city where at one time they resided in the suburbs. The people frequenting these cemeteries are kids looking for mischief and trouble rather than searching for the graves of loved ones. The remembrances they leave behind are turned over tombstones and other damage rather than floral pieces.

Cemeteries are the last resting place; a place of interred dreams and thoughts of eternal life in the religious sense. They are not playgrounds however children should not shun them. They should be a place where we can reintroduce our children and children’s children to their heritage. It is a place where photo albums and other pictorial media can be shown to bring flesh and blood and memories back into our minds and hearts. “The memory of most [dead] is an abandoned cemetery where lie, unsung and unhonored, [those] whom they have ceased to cherish.” Marguerite Yourcenar 1903-1987, French novelist

K.