This is the inscription on the Carter family tombstone, a family with 9 kids who stayed when the plague hit and everyone else left town. I wonder if this will be my epitaph someday too.
On Tuesdays, since I have my car, me and Lindsay have been taking mini Cleveland adventures on common hour/lunch break. Today's involved fresh-baked naan bread from Aladdin's bakery and then hanging out at the Erie Street Cemetery.
I've always wanted to check it out but usually remembered this whenever I was at an Indians game and it was already dark. I've been a geek for old cemeteries since I was 9 or something and this one was old and I finally got to see the grave of Joc-o-sot, vaudeville performer, sports team haunter, and chief who got stuck dying in Cleveland instead of his native Wisconsin.
Evidently, some of these bodies were "reburied" here in 1939 which is kind of creepy. Maybe that's what early settler associations did back then.
Is it indicative of living in a dying city when your favorite destinations are forgotten streets, abandoned buildings, and graveyards? Does it just cement the fact that I'm still alive and enjoying it so much?
Also, today is Jeff Buckley's birthday. I played a half hour worth of him on the show today, but didn't feel like playing "Hallelujah" because everyone does.