An old
story tells of two men who were attending the graves of departed friends. One, a Caucasian, was placing a vase of
flowers on his friend’s grave. The
other, a Chinese, was placing a bowl of rice on his friend’s grave. The first asked: “When do you expect your
friend to come up and eat that rice?”
And the latter responded: “The same time your friend comes up and smells
those flowers.”
We have
come a long way, though, since those days of flowers and rice. Now, it is globs of plastic. Whole cemeteries covered with globs of
plastic. Globs in the shapes of flowers,
but they might just as well be shapes of cars, dishes, golf clubs, guns, or
anything else the deceased might have fancied.
Or why not just recycle old plastic toys, melt them down and toss them
on the graves. Just as colorful. Just as meaningful.
Living
flowers at funeral services and at gravesites, it seems to me, honor the life
of the now deceased, and symbolize the life that continues after death, the
lives of the descendants and the lives of those who were touched by the life of
the deceased.
These
thoughts came to me afresh a few weeks ago when I was at the local trash dump,
and was astonished to see the heap of trash crowned with a vast amount of
plastic globs. It seems that a local
cemetery had just cleaned up all the old plastic, in order to make room for a
new round of plastic on the upcoming Memorial Day.
It brings
me no sentimental pleasure or joy when I drive by or walk through a cemetery
littered with plastic. When I consider
how these thrice pollute: first, when they spew out contamination while being
manufactured; second, when they spoil the tranquility of the cemetery; and
third, when they are carted to the landfill where, being non-biodegradable,
they will spend eons.
Far more
touching would be to see the withered remains of violets or daisies or rose
petals watered with tears when placed on the grave.
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