The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1909-06-26
In MemOriam.


exercise Its got to be a habit with
us, for we have done this same thing
two or three times now regularly.
They are great things-and just a
tri1e amusing-as amusing, in fact,
as public prayer. Down yonder in
Greece and Rome, we are told, they
used to burn up the bodies of the dead
as other garbage and refuse. Except
that thread of sentiment ran through
the proceedings and prompted many to
collect the ashes and law them away
in urns But the Egyptians preserved
the dead by embalming and mumifying
them, while the Jews, from whom we
some other old things, buried the bod
les of the dead. The Egyptian and
the Jew, by association, got to loving
the body, and became possessed of the
idea that this tabernacle of flesh"
was the greatest thing that ever hap
pened, and that sometime in the far
fuure, when the golden age came, this
clumsy, foul-smelling overcoat would
be terminated and carried around
again. They got to liking it as we do
some worthless old trinket and SO
couldn't bear to part with it.
Now, if we had an old hen that
would gather all the old eggshells and
pile them in the back yard in corner
and every year go around and drop a
few tears where the egg shells had
been, we should be somewhat anus
ed. If the housewife should gather
together all the torn, ragged and cast
off clothes in a heap and set a lbael
on them, and every year strew flowers
over them, she would be hailed to the
probate court and her sanity inquired
after And yet that is all that deaC
body is-simply garbage, refuse, cas-
off garment that once enrapped sou
"a character-a thinking, loving
breathing thing. And memorial day
service is simply show, a pretense
|
over a bunch of mud that calls to oul
mind no thought of anybody; we re-
cite prayers and lingo of meaning
less nonsense embalmed in book be
cause it sounded good and was pu
together in way designed to call GU
our tears. We speak of this life as al
awful dreary, desolated place to liv
in, and tell how we long to get away
when we know that we are just simpl,
lying about it, and, should there be an,
indication of our hasty flight to the 81
lent beyond, the doctor would be call
ed double quick that he couldn't com
to our relief fast enough, and the ten
der, loving Father would be implore
with wealth of woe and agony
keep us away from him-just for thi
time anyway. And we are not SINGER
in our pretentions. That Odd Fello'
over there, why were no flower
strewn over his cast off coat? VIII!
-ahem!-he died while in arrears fo
duesi And that old soldier? Ahem
/ -hem!-there is a suspicion that h
! deserted. And that dear, little hill {
Q dirt over there-why no flowers? Wei
4 you know-well, that is the grave I
our poor washerwoman's little daugl
p ter. And that one? Well, yes. 81
was our next door neighbor, true. 81
}, she was not in our set. And yet a
Il of these bore the imprint and badl
,. of a brotherhood, higher, sweeter al
e nohler than any of the petty distin
Q lions of earth. Brother and sister WI
y stamped upon every line and line
>, ment. They were remembered becau
they could not b forgotten-but n
with flowers. nor with tender, solen
notes OF organ and anthem-becau
: that was not in the ritual, don't y,
y knowI And we can't get away from
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