Visiting Père Lachaise
Cemetery (Paris) with Savvy Mom Ruth Paget
When I first moved to Paris (France), I did walking tours around the City while Laurent worked late hours. One of the most interesting places in Paris to learn history is Père Lachaise Cemetery.
I
took my green Michelin touring guide with me and found my way among the paths
and avenues of the Cemetery.
I
easily found the singer Jim Morrison’s grave.
You cannot but help find it, because his fans have written and/or
inscribed “Jim” on other tombs to guide tourists to his grave.
When
I arrived at Jim Morrison’s grave, teenagers and college students from around
the world were smoking marijuana at his tomb. (Mary Jane in Detroit-speak and
the subject of a Rick James dance song).
I
thought Père Lachaise outside of Jim Morrison’s tomb was very pretty with
flowers and avenues and said to myself, “Well, the dead in Chicago do not have
cemeteries as fancy as this, but they retain their right to vote.”
The
voter rolls still need to be checked for people with death notices and homes
that are holes in the ground as well there.
In Atlanta last year, I learned that not all candidates have been vetted to run in their district - you need to check recent land surveyor records for residency. Also, you have to be sure what the status is on on out-of-state campaign contributions.
In Atlanta last year, I learned that not all candidates have been vetted to run in their district - you need to check recent land surveyor records for residency. Also, you have to be sure what the status is on on out-of-state campaign contributions.
Along
the way, I found two pieces of funerary sculpture that must have been
jokes. The first one had a coffin
sculpture with skulls as feet holding it up.
Below
the coffin, there was a space where a skeleton angel was squeezing out to get
to the living.
Another
tomb showed a man opening his casket to offer the viewer a rosebud. For 1890, the deceased or his family had a
great sense of humor.
Inside
a domed mausoleum for the Bibesco Family was a photograph of Anna de
Noailles. She had written on her
photograph, “I was not made for death.”
I
had no idea whom she was, but I liked her defiant spirit. I wanted to write a biography about her one
day. Cemeteries are always full of
writing ideas.
I
felt like Edgar Allen Poe wandering among the cats, who always seem to live in
cemeteries. Was there a cask of
amontillado somewhere for the living?
I visited the graves of Collette and the composer Rossini before leaveing. I was sure that this would be the first of many visits to Père Lachaise.
By
Ruth Paget, author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France
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