Roady,

Ha... working yesterday in cemetery on modernist oversize orange juice 
squeezer (mortuary chapel) & client there suggests we build a 
sarcophagus over it like for Chernobyl. Seems the thing has leaked water 
since it was built in the 70's. Sets me off on a story about Chernobyl 
(I seriously suspect the dark green goo Georgi kept pouring into our 
vodka was Wormwood/Absinthe.) I end my story to comment that the arcade 
that surrounds the chapel would make a wonderful base for a geodesic 
dome. As the day progresses, and we learn more about what has been going 
on over the years with the degradation of the chapel, the goedesic dome 
begins to look more and more optimal.

The architect of this chapel is buried in a nearby crypt. Later in the 
day in phone conversation with another architect the nearby burial is 
taken note of and it is agreed that at least one architect will 
incorporate into their practice that they be buried somewhere obscure 
and far away from the manifestation of their design.

I was told months ago when I first visited the cemetery an in-house joke 
that when business gets slow they talk about opening the chapel to the 
public... stuff falling from the ceiling. (I will send photo of stuff 
back channel and you can decide how dangerous it is.) I also find out 
that someone has invented some sort of chemical that when poured on a 
body turns into into a dark green goo, bones eyeballs and all, and that 
the deceased can then be flushed down the toilet. This science seems to 
have those in the cemetery business concerned for the competition. Then 
there is a discussion about how your dog cannot be buried with you, but 
you can be buried with your dog. The way it works is that you get 
cremated and your ashes go in the dog's casket in the pet cemetery... 
whalla! But dogs turned to ashes cannot be buried with you in the human 
cemetery. "Here lies Fluffy with her companion Doris."

In middle of day a woman (Mary) comes in through one of the open doors 
in what approximates the street variation of bedroom clothes with 
slippers -- it is stuffling humid inside and we need ventilation, the 
chapel needs ventilation -- she says that she owns one of the windows, 
then runs over to it and prays. Then she comes over to me and spends 
fifteen minutes telling me the history of her love affair with the 
priest that the window is dedicated to. The guy was a diabetic and had 
lost all toes but one big one on his right foot which caused him to have 
balance problems when standing. I listen patiently, and learn about 
blood transfusions, because I really do want to know what it means to 
own a window. Then the Bob Marley ringetone on my cell phone went off 
and she ran out of our lives as quickly as she had arrived.

I found it interesting that I had to explain to a young architect what a 
sarcophagus is. Usually I am the one that has no clue what the 
architectural terms mean. Gosh, I feel happy that I can even spell the word.

The entire valley here is cemetery after cemetery, very pastoral. Lots 
of green space, stones tastefully arranged and trees. Located adjacent 
to an incredibly large medical facility (the shortest route to the Home 
Depot is through the campus -- which also contains a rather elaborate 
emergency response training center... those odd collections of buildings 
that the firemen use to practice on -- when do we get to restore 
them?)... and well within the 30 mile radius of the Indian Point nuclear 
reactor.

][<

Rudy Christian wrote:

>][< wrote:
>
>  
>
>>Is this a call for a very very long moment of silence?
>>Is it ok to whistle?
>>    
>>
>
>So maybe this is the time to relay the information from a friend not seen
>for years, department head from my previous employer who has become an
>incense commonsewer:
>
>Chernobyl translated is Wormwood.
>
>Maybe we need some......
>
>Roady
>
>--
>To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
>uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
><http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>
>
>  
>

--
To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
<http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>