Last week my fiction class (man, I get a lot of inspiration for this blog from that class) walked to an old graveyard on Prince Street up from the university. Our assignment was to look at a gravestone and create a short character sketch based off of nothing more than the name on the tombstone. Actually, some of the stones were so old the names had weathered away; I think most of the people buried there lived in the mid 1800's.
So, anyway, our whole class is sitting in the graveyard writing in our notebooks, when suddenly, in the church right beside us, the door literally bursts open and out comes a coffin draped in an American Flag. They were having a funeral service at the church right by where we were using the graveyard as a class project, and a lot of older people started filing out of the door while they were loading the casket into the Hearse. We all felt so bad. At least they were going to another site to bury the poor man so we didn't desecrate the funeral too much. Geez, that was a horrible day to look at gravestones.