Sunday, March 18, 2012

Buried Dreams

Chess Update: Per yesterday's post about Chicago's regional chess tournament, Dan's school placed first and will be moving on!  Woo-hoo!!  More to come later....


I don't care if it's global warming or just a fluke seasonal anomaly, but I'm loving life.  It was almost 90 degrees here yesterday.  In Chicago.  In the winter. 

My husband filled the kids' bikes with air and off we went for a family ride.

Of course as Joey trailed behind on training wheels and with extra traffic in the area due to St. Patrick's Day, I started stressing (remember this post that people are still wishing I hadn't written?).  I suggested to Joe that we head for the cemetery (a popular bike destination for urban riders with children).

As we pedaled around the beautiful old paths, I noticed a headstone under a tree with an accompanying marble bench.  I really liked it and told my husband:

"Now wouldn't that be nice for the boys when we die?  We'll order a cute little bench and they can visit us with a cooler and some beers.  The boys will reminisce about how we used to ride our bikes in this cemetery and how their mother ruined their lives."

Joe shook his head. 

"Nah, my parents are buried over at Holy Sepulchre.  I'd like to be planted there."

I was silent for a few minutes, annoyed that he wouldn't consider another cemetery.  Joe finally noticed my sulking and asked:

"Honey, you know how an Irishman proposes to his wife, right?"

"Uh....the usual way?  Will you marry me?"

"No.  He will turn to his intended bride and ask, 'So how about it, luv?  Would you like to be buried next to my people?'"

Fine, I told him.  But I still wanted my bench.  And I'm kind of hoping they make little marble coolers to go next to the grave.  

How fun would that be?


  1. That's both beautiful and disappointing but I wonder if there is a clause of failure to disclose that can be upheld here because it wasn't in the original proposal? so that you can have your grave and eat it too?

  2. I lost my father years ago when I was 9 from a heart attack...another story perhaps, still, with 4 sisters and just one brother, you can probably imagine the type of bikes we had. So in desperation, I tied rope from the handle bar goose neck to the seat to make the bikes I rode, a boy's bike lol...see back we all had imaginations. Imagine how much rope I saved when one Christmas I actually got a 20" bike.

  3. Whoops...put my comments on the wrong post...sorry.