Six LDS Writers and A Frog

Friday, February 09, 2007

True Love is Like a Ghost

by Kerry Blair

The tag line of my new book is: True love is like a ghost. Many people believe in both, but few find either. I don’t remember where I first read that line, but I believe it.

For the record, I do not drag my husband to cemeteries to hunt for ghosts. (Although graveyards are the most common site for portal hauntings; more about that in a later blog.) We went to the cemetery because I thought a graveyard would be a unique place to take a picture for my web site and the old Citizen’s Cemetery in my hometown has long been one of my favorites. (Everybody has a favorite graveyard, right?) Buried therein are the remains of men who served as Rough Riders with Teddy Roosevelt, and women who served . . . um, something . . . in the Bird Cage saloon on Whiskey Row back when Doc Holladay was a drop in.

It was a great place for a photo shoot. Unfortunately, the cemetery’s high, wrought iron gates are closed and locked at dusk. In order to sneak in, we had to park in one of the less-desirable parts of town and ignore the drunken party that was going on nearby. (We also said a quick prayer that our hubcaps – and the car to which they were attached – would still be there when we returned.) We then lowered ourselves over a rock wall and into the graveyard. Thanks to the miracle of gravity, this wasn’t too difficult, even for a pudgy, middle-aged novelist and her CPA husband.

For about an hour, I led my eternal companion from one old sepulchre to the next (and the next and the next and the next) in search of the perfect spot in which to be photographed. While I graciously carried the compact digital camera, he carried my 50-lb antique typewriter. It was cold, dark, and suitably spooky, even for me.

By the time we had enough pictures to make me happy, we’d attracted the attention of several drunks and one police officer – but no ghosts. (Nor did an orb show up on our pictures, darn it.) My husband boosted me back over the wall, handed up the typewriter, considered the wall’s height and his blood pressure, and then sat down to wait for the cemetery’s gate to open or for heaven’s trump to sound, whichever came first. No, seriously, he scaled a crumbling pile of rocks and loose mortar that would have given Spider-Man second thoughts.

I probably don’t have to tell you that Gary would have rather been home watching football and rooting for ASU. (Heck, he’d have rather been at a dentist’s office having a root canal.) Nor do I need to tell you that I’ve found true love. You can judge that for yourself.

(PS - If you're thinking you've read this someplace else -- say on my web site -- give me a break. I'm too sick to sick up, let alone blog. I wanted to steal something from Rob's site, but I figured he'd sue me.)


9 Comments:

At 2/09/2007 2:47 PM, Blogger Cheri said...

Feel better soon, Kerry, and I for one, enjoyed your blog. Also, you're a braver woman than me. I'm not sure anyone could talk me into venturing inside a cemetery at night. You and Gary deserve medals of valor. What writers go through for the perfect picture, word, cover, etc.

 
At 2/09/2007 4:45 PM, Blogger Stephanie Black said...

I love the graveyard picture! And I appreciate it even more knowing what you went through to get it!

 
At 2/10/2007 3:23 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love that picture, too! If I ever come to your hometown, that graveyard will on my list of places to visit. And I hope you feel better soon.

Melanie Goldmund

 
At 2/10/2007 4:44 PM, Blogger RobisonWells said...

You're welcome to steal from my site. I'd sue, but I'm just too dang lazy.

 
At 2/10/2007 7:24 PM, Blogger Keith Fisher said...

Great picture but you didn't finish. you said you got the attention of a police officer. what happened there? it sounds Like a Robison Wells story.

 
At 2/11/2007 3:12 PM, Blogger Kerry Blair said...

Alas, Keith, my life is not nearly as exciting as a Robison Wells story. (Nor do I leave my stories unfinished like another frog blogger we all know and love.) That WAS the story. The patrolman merely looked us over and went on his way. I suspect he assumed by my halting walk and my husband's gray hair that we were most likely there to pick out a nice "retirement" plot for later.

 
At 2/11/2007 9:55 PM, Blogger Keith Fisher said...

I can relate to that. :) Of course you know the real reason they put fences around graveyards don't you?
its to keep people in. He probably admired the tenacity of spirt prison break.


Well I never said I was funny.

 
At 2/12/2007 6:46 PM, Blogger ChillyGator said...

I'm glad you posted this again because it can still make me laugh. I want to be all cute and married and doing ridiculously fun things when I'm...you know, grown up.

I love you, Kerry. I hope you feel better!!

 
At 2/12/2007 7:15 PM, Blogger FHL said...

When I was a teenager, I remember enjoying going on walks through cemetaries. At that time of my life, I didn't really believe in spirits. (I did, however, believe in pranksters.) I recall it as being a pensive time; time to think about history and ancestors and what sort of headstone I might like. Definitely metal - more permanent.

But now, I can't even imagine walking through one at night. Kudos to you, fearless Kerry.

I've just barely started reading your new book, btw, and enjoying it so far. =) (Maybe I shouldn't read it at night?)

 

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