Drove through the expansive South Hill Cemetery tonight. I was surprised to see a mausoleum there, akin to something you’d see in a New Orleans cemetery. I didn’t think people in smaller cities would go the mausoleum way, but there you have it.
I had to get out to see it. I was fascinated. It has iron doors and a gate in front of the doors. The door has a handle, and I confess I considered reaching through the gate to turn it and see what would happen. What a strange thing to be buried but not lie six feet underground. I was fascinated in a fearful, creepy sort of way by the notion of this building—this one-room building—with a body inside it accessible in the same way as any other room in the world is accessible: by a (locked) door. I stared at the handle for a while, but the combination of uneasiness and good sense won the day and I walked away. But I felt the pull of that place even as we drove off—it seems so mysterious to me.