Somebodies' Mommas Didn't Raise 'Em Right

There are none so low as he who stoops to grave robbing.

Yes. That's a quotable quote from Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. She has stopped short of merchandising T-shirts with these words of wisdom.

We're not talking about Muff Potter, Injun Joe, Doc Robinson and the headboard from Hoss Williams's grave. Nope. We're talking about ne'er-do-wells out to make a buck from melting down metal flower holders that screw into the headstones of somebody's dear, departed loved ones.

Last week, I stopped by the cemetery for some alone time at Mom and Dad's grave. I noticed that the flowers were gone. A guy was mowing in another of the gardens, and this one had just-trimmed grass. So I thought maybe they had taken out the flowers for mowing. I did not see any other metal vases standing. Not a big deal. This place has all flat stones, no raised ones. It would stand to reason that they remove the upright vases for close cutting.

Yesterday, I stopped by again. No metal vase on Mom and Dad's headstone. The little white weeping angel, the one with its head on its forearms, the one that always makes me cry...was still there, but tipped over, with its head resting on the stone. The grass was not freshly cut. Way down in the new section, a guy was riding a mower.

I drove out of that area, onto the county road, and started off to the lawyer's office for house-sale preliminary document-signing. Then I turned back in, at the lower entrance by the mausoleum. What if the vase had been put back at the wrong grave? Dad has been there for 20 years. We've never had the vase go missing before. Every time I go by, it's there, screwed in, with whatever flowers we had put there for the season. Something was amiss.

Of course there was nobody home at the mausoleum. Well. Nobody that would talk to me. Even though The Pony declared that he heard voices when we held Mom's service there, I, myself, did not. The sign on the front door said the office hours were 8:00 to 4:00. It was now 9:45. I walked right in. It's a peaceful place, carpeted, chairs set up for services. The office is in the back. It had a sign on the door that said "Come on in." I tried. It was locked. I knocked. Gave a rap rap rapping on the office door. Nobody. Is it bad to say I saw no signs of life in that mausoleum?

I left. At the lawyer's office, I asked Sis if she had taken the vase. To shine it up, perhaps, or switch out the flowers. No. She had not. And she informed me that people steal those all the time. That a woman at her church, whose husband's grave is three plots down from Mom and Dad's, said his vase had disappeared THREE times. And each time, the cemetery owners replaced it. "You have to go to the office," Sis said. "And report it, and tell them you want it replaced."

"What if they say it's not their problem?"

"Tell them that it is! That you know somebody who has had it happen several times, and they have replaced it for them. Don't get too specific. Don't give her name, or say where the plot is."

"Okay. But I was already there, and nobody was home in the mausoleum."

I went to the grave again. No metal vase. In fact, there were no metal vases in the row of graves along the road. The others had theirs. I'm sure there would not be a mowing of only one row of graves. I drove down to the mausoleum. Went back in. The minute I stepped through the front glass doors, a lady came out of the office door. It's not like she was psychic. I'm sure they have security cameras all over that place. Just not over the row of graves by Mom and Dad's plot.

"May I help you?"

"Yes. I noticed that the metal vase is missing from my parents' grave. I was here a week ago, and it was gone, but I thought that was because of mowing. Now I see that it's still not there."

"Oh. That's too bad. Did you look down in by the headstone? Sometimes the groundskeepers lay them down while mowing."

"No. I saw the little white angel. But no vase or flowers. I can go back up and look."

"Oh, no! My groundskeepers can do that! Let me get the names, and which garden. We will check on that, and see that it is replaced."

"Thank you."

Here's the thing. Like Sis said, "If you ran a junkyard, wouldn't YOU be suspicious if somebody pulled in with 30 grave vases? I don't know why they keep paying money for them like they're scrap." Our local paper had an article about it a while back. Some guy was caught selling those vases to scrap dealers. I guess a reputable business around here turned him in.

Indeed. I have a good idea where those vases are being cashed out. Even the 14-year-old kids at Newmentia know what kind of place this is. "I went with my grandpa to help him tow an old truck and sell it for scrap. The dude says, 'Do you have the title?' Grandpa said no. So the dude says, 'Okay. I'll make sure and crush it today.' Then he gave grandpa the money." The #1 son says that everybody knows that place is just a front for selling drugs. Remind me to ask how he knew this.

I suppose the police are getting information out of there. So it must benefit them more to keep their sources than to shut the place down.

Still. It's pretty low to steal vases off graves. I don't care how poor you are.