Cemeteries

Several decades ago, whenever I was traveling to a place, I tried to pay a visit to local cemeteries. I still try. I admit that I find (small) Italian cemeteries a bit more cheerful than elsewhere, although not necessarily always as scenic as other European ones (e.g. Edimburgh has some pretty ones, probably tourist traps, too…). Piled-up accessible coffins like those in Recoleta, in Buenos Aires, might impress some long-lasting memories, but after all, the cemeteries with some sort of pre-existing personal link, such as family members, friends, or colleages, are those I would prefer to visit, at least once in a while, when time, and distance, allow.

They are in a way like your local pub, or cafè. Just for those who won’t go there anymore.

The Old Ones Link to heading

No, not those of HPL. Simply those who are getting old (humans).

My grandma in her old house used to sleep on the left side of the bed. That’s where my grandpa used to sleep before passing away. The last - and in fact only - memory I have of him is when he was laying in an apparent deep sleep exactly there. I think it was her way to stay close to him, after he was gone. She was not going there often, as she was in fact most of the year with us, helping my parents and taking care of small me. But she went back in Summer for several weeks, that through the years became a few weeks, then a few days, then never again.

We had among the beautifully boring late August days picking up pinoli in front of her home, to walk to the cemetery, pass by the flower shop, walk again, cross the state road just outside the town, and head towards the cemetery, up to a short slightly winding road. We were going through the various graves, of some aunts, and uncles, a very far away cousin, the former medical doctor and neighbour, from the very same road, with most of his family now in a little cappella, a few tens of meters away from their tomb.

Chrysanthems are quite cool flowers. They look modest but nice when fresh, and they keep their colour and shape albeit being dry for months. I discovered many years after those cemetery visits that they actually make a nice tea, too.

The grave close to that of my grandparents, is that whom I learned to call "‘o capitan ’e guerra" (literally “captain of war”). I don’t know why they/we actualy used a Neapolitan expression/accent for that specific one, as I don’t believe he was from anywhere but northern Latium. He had nobody left apparently when he died after WW1, and the tomb was (is) covered in lichens. All his family was apparently gone, or far, or had forgotten (who knows), and we always put some chrysanthems over if. He made us company, and somehow we made him some, too. I still - when I rarely go visit the same cemetery, and the very same graves - leave a flower and a smile to the “captain of war”.

I believe a certain part - I suspect a large one - of (first/lucky world) suffering would be eased by regularly visiting familiar graveyards. Moreover, romans kind of did that, many in Asia seem to do this it too, and also my family kept photos of the deceased in some corner at home. I try to maintain the tradition.

We don’t visit cemeteries as often as it used to be. People are geographically more mobile, and might not live where family members live, die and/or are buried. It does deprive people of some reflection moments, and the midnfulness of bringing flowers to the deceased. It might seem minor, but I believe it’s a large positive effect.

Lastly, I had a post on thanking and I do not plan to update it with the obviously growing list of people who meanwhile died. But one is worth mentioning. Just some weeks ago, where an unfinished draft of this post was sitting half-forgotten on a filesystem, I got to know that Paul Geissler had passed away.

I will most likely never have the chance of visiting his grave. So for me he will always be the gentle scientist who spent his sabbatical when I was starting to find my path, and who had always some wise words ready, regardless of the topic: Remote Sensing image calibration, or the uncertain future.

Acknowledgements Link to heading

Thanks to the Internet Archive for the banner image, and to Orazio Marucchi, who - I bet - is buried somehwere in Rome, mabye at the Verano.

Minimal bibliography Link to heading