I had never been in a monument store until yesterday. I guess that is what you would call it. In any event, I met my brother Bob at McGee Monuments in Conway not too far from the Interstate. Of course, we were there to pick out a marker for our brother Dave.
I can think of other ways that I would prefer to spend a Sunday morning. But one must tend to one’s duty.
The business is operated out of a former home in a residential area. There were several styles of gravestones for inspection in what used to be somebody’s front yard. I couldn’t help but note to myself that there was probably not much shoplifting at McGee Monuments despite the apparent lack of security.
Bob explained to the nice lady there that there wasn’t a whole lot of room to work with if they were going to get Dave’s marker close to Mother’s up there at the Pearson Cemetery. He called out the dimensions that he and the head of the cemetery board worked out off the top of his head. The nice lady pointed out two that she said would do nicely. We picked a simple stone that did not require a big base. Then we went back inside to paper everything up.
At her desk, she turned her computer screen to us to show all the stuff we could get engraved on the stone. A deer’s head. A motorcycle. Bible verses. Guys fishing. She didn’t show us a Razorback. But it wouldn’t surprise me if you could get one despite the trademark issues. After all, who would they send the “cease and desist” letter to? However, what passed for my personal favorite was a gravestone with somebody’s headshot somehow engraved in the stone. She allowed as how that was a surprisingly popular feature.
“I’ve seen those,” Bob said. “They are amazingly lifelike.”
And guaranteed for life the nice lady said.
“Whose life?” I wondered to myself.
We told the nice lady that Dave would not have had any use for such folderol, even though we had no way of knowing for certain seeing as how Dave had never expressed an opinion one way or another about such matters. But his was a simple life kept largely to work and himself, especially in what turned out to be his latter years. I’m certain that the prospect of an ersatz portrait engrafted in stone would have completely horrified him. The simple stone we picked out looks like Dave.
We brothers settled on the simple inscription “A Good Man.” And that is what will adorn his marker for posterity in a country cemetery in Cleburne County. A good man gone way too soon, resting next to his mother.
This is apropos of nothing. But not too far from Mother there is a headstone that bears the inscription “Friend to Sinners.” I’m not too choosy insofar as potential epitaphs go. And I don’t want to be buried in Pearson “when I die if I die” to quote Uncle Earl Long. But “Friend to Sinners” nicely sums up my body of work on this vale of tears if my survivors get jammed up and can’t think of anything printable to slap on my marker. That’s not much insofar as pre-arrangement goes but it’s a start. And it’s not like I will be here to bitch about it in any event.
Bob and I placed the order. I signed some papers and wrote the nice lady a check. In a couple of weeks she will send us a computer generated image of what Dave’s marker will look like for our approval. It should be ready to take up to the country in about 6 weeks after the final approval. Which means I guess we will do some sort of a graveside service after those 6 weeks have run.
I can sure think of other ways I would prefer to spend a summer’s day. But one must tend to one’s duty.
