It was the first time for me.

I've made a lot of visits to cemeteries, mostly professional in nature. Usually, it has been a somber occasion. Following the funeral at the church or a funeral home, there had been a procession to the burial site. I had a few words to say, several scriptural verses, a prayer, the commital service, and usually ending with The Lord's Prayer in unison. Sometimes I would invite the family and friends to offer their remembrances. And then frequently, people would hesitate to leave. They would talk in groups and hug and visit nearby stones that marked the grave of other loved ones.

I heard a novel reason to visit the local cemetery as Mrs. McKemie told us when my daughter was learning to drive that she taught her kids to drive in the Benton City cemetery. There were paved roads with no traffic and the people residing there wouldn't object.

But last week was the first time I ate pizza in any cemetery. My sister-in-law had told Judy of the unique stones in a rural cemetery and that we ought to go see them. We picked up a Domino's pizza and Diet Cokes and drove into the country. They were several carved stones, more than 125 years old, that depicted stories of the departed. This one is for a teen-aged boy with a baseball bat, cap, books, and his favorite chair sculpted in stone. I suspect that this was an expensive stone at the time, but wouldn't it be fun if this was a typical marker? It would be an art gallery in the outdoors, a place for pizza, and learning to drive, and I'm told for "parking".