A few years ago Zoe and I saw Jeffrey Foucault perform live. I’d never heard of him before that day. He opened with a song titled “Don’t Look for Me.” I was floored by his voice and fine guitar playing. We bought the cd after the performance and I listened to the studio version of the same song but it just did not impress as much as the live performance had. Many years back I had a Deadhead friend in college who once said, “the moment is superior to the artifact” when talking about the Dead’s music. For some reason that little quote has stuck with me. Initially it stuck because I thought it was a funny thing for one 19 year old stoner to say to another, but then as I dwelt on these seven words I came to conclude that this saying summed up my feelings about most things in life. I’ve never become attached to “stuff” (the only possession I'm really attached to is my road bike. Not so much because it's so great, but because I use all of the time, but if I were to lose I would not realistically be able to afford to replace it) and it dovetails nicely with my inability to remember just about anything. Alas, once again many years later, it would hold true for Jeffrey Foucault’s song. Purchasing the cd however was not a loss. It is a good cd, but what made me love it were the first two lines of the first song on the disc, “Cross of Flowers.” They are as follows:
There's a cross of flowers at the roadside
Where some fool bought it two years back
I will somewhat shamefully admit that I secretly and guiltily liked the irreverence of referring to the subject as a “fool” here. I can’t explain why, but I’ve always felt the same way when I saw a cross by the roadside. I hate them. I feel cold hearted admitting it, but it’s how I feel for some reason. The white roadside crosses, or descansos (in Spanish, descanso means “resting place”) are a common site on all of my main cycling routes from the house. There are three major routes that I commonly ride from home, one to the north, one to the south and one to the west. There is a white cross within 6 miles on each route. I see them up close every day as I meditatively peddle, therefore I spend a lot of time thinking about them. The cross means nothing to the person whose name emblazons it, obviously, and if I were asked if I wanted one, should I meet my demise in a car accident (or be splattered by a vehicle while on my bike on the road, I think that would qualify), I would emphatically say no, absolutely not. To me these shrines seem to be an extenuation of grief by and pity for the living. Perhaps it’s cathartic to work so diligently on these things, but I get the weird sense that the people who maintain them like doing it, I can’t imagine up-keeping one of these things for someone I had known. Similarly, after 9/11 and after the invasion (and subsequent occupation) of Iraq, stickers and flags on cars popped up everywhere. I felt the same weird way, “these people all sort of enjoy wallowing in this.” I’m not saying my interpretation is correct, it’s probably way off, but it is what it is and I’m admitting it for whatever purpose.
I decided to investigate these emotions. So like anyone who was having a slow day at the office I referred to the internet. You know, the internet, that place where, with enough research, the most common bug bite is potentially fatal, or at the very least, horrifyingly disfiguring. I thought this would be a great place to investigate. It wasn't. Here’s the first thing I stumble upon:
Mark the loss of a loved one to road accidents with a roadside memorial. Each roadside memorial is designed from UV-protected polyethylene, to make it last for years. The descanso – available with a personalized nameplate in several designs, from religious symbols, the national flag and animals – carry a and a mounting stake
Your Tribute Memorial Cross:
● Durably constructed from UV protected polyethylene
● Includes a mounting stake for easy installation
● Comes with a personalized nameplate
● Can be used for People or Pets
● Free Delivery included within 48 contiguous states
● Size: 24"H x 15"W x 2-1/2"D
Artwork and symbols are further below on the page
Ships in approximately 4 business days
| Our Price: $175.00 |
| |
Or if you're a little more strapped, 27- 45 bucks here.
Or maybe I don’t like them because I’m an Atheist. This article says, “Consider also the point that atheists and other non-christians find them offensive, annoying and depressing.” Wow, they apparently speak for me and they really hate those crosses.
Maybe I don’t like them because they are a little artifact that is just glued there in that moment and place of despair. I feel like maybe the survivors can’t move on and are stuck in a holding pattern. It’s like they are stuck in that spot, in that moment, in that awful time and place for as long as the shrine is maintained(and some are very meticulously maintained). It seems like the point is to not move forward, it’s to stay there in that spot forever. Ah, but I think the moment is superior, remember? So I prefer the moment or moments that come before that fateful split second in that tragic spot when I think about the people that I have loved who are no longer here.
Enough stalling. I have to write why I like camp if I ever want any more jelly.
8 comments:
Also because eventually every single one of them becomes droopy and sun-faded. That just looks so terrible and sad.
I like when Neil hijacks my blog and his writing is interesting and smart. But I must say, if I had to wake up every morning having lost a loved one, especially one of my children, to an untimely, tragic accident, I don't know what I'd do or how I might need to express my grief and for how long. If I needed to erect a memorial by the roadside to cope with my pain, than so be it.
There is one such memorial off of I-91, north of here. I remember when those kids died, probably 10 years ago, and when I drive by that spot, that cross reminds me of those families, what they must have endured and probably still endure. As a parent, my heart honors those parents. And it reminds me to take nothing for granted and that soon I need to talk to my kids about drinking and driving and calling us for a ride, no questions asked, any time of day. So the roadside crosses make me sad, too, but I'm okay with that.
Roadside memorials make me sad too. However to me a more fitting memoial is one in a place that the deceased lived and was loved. For our family it is the "Dells" and a maple tree in Freedom.
I guess it's not a news flash that Zoe is more open minded than either her husband or her mother...
As a certified packrat, I often find that the artifact helps me reconnect with the moment; & since outstanding moments aren't exactly frequent (almost by definition), that can be a valuable function. But this goes mainly for positive ones.
The crosses bother me also. I too wondered if it was my being an Atheist but I think it has more to do with why they have become necessarya dn how they makes us feel. What are they symbolizing for people? What is missing in the grieving process that compels people mark the spot of their tragedy this way?
They bother me because they seem like a disposable monument. They are certainly not meant to be there for long periods of time. They're not a maintainable demarcation of life and death.
I think it's hard for people to find meaning in the grieving process. They are missing the formality and support old traditions gave us.
People don't know what to do, how to demonstrate their state of being, their state of grief. The roadside crosses have become symbolic of the loss they've suffered, as an arm band, or black clothing would have in past decades. The temporary symbols that had meaning and everyone understood. They gave you parameters and timelines, a status.
People are looking for new traditions to supplant the ones we no longer make use of. They are looking for meaning and acknowledgement of their loss. The crosses scream "Look! something happened here!, Please notice my loss."
But we don't want to, it's a reminder that death can happen anytime, anyplace, to anyone. They don't give us a chance to help anyone through their grief. The crosses make us feel helpless. I guess that's why they bother me, they make me feel helpless.
I agree with what you are all saying but I have another take to contribute. I don't think of them as memorials to the dead, or as a sign of those who endlessly mourn in public.
What I have learned as a therapist is that if you say something to a person a hundred times, a thousand if you must, until it goes to their unconscious it will become their own.
So, I think of all the people who drive past them sometimes drunk and sometimes sober; all the teens and young adults who speed by in irrational ways, and I hope that having those signs of road death blink into their unconscious every time they drive by them will eventually cause their minds to say, "I could die here also; I need to drive better". At least I hope that since eventually I was penetrated by them and slowed down.
I had no intention of that being anonymous; it's was me. Auntie/Sally
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