The Daily News
all the lonely people
where do they all come from?
all the lonely people
where do they all belong?
--John Lennon and Paul McCartney
1 Well, strange days, strange days to be sure.
2 I don't wish to bore, because the DN is an entertainment venue, but yesterday I never made it to the funeral. I got to the school to teach my Leadership class and left shortly thereafter only to find myself suddenly in a huge traffic jam. I knew they weren't lined up for old Emma, so I figured it was just a major snag, but really, just a normal commute.
3 Well, I arrived late to the church, which was solemn and empty. Nobody came.
4 At least it seemed like that. Have you ever gone into an empty church? It's a strange thing. No matter what, you always feel quiet and calm. There was this huge mural of Jesus, just his face, all across the front of the church. It felt solemn. And if I may, just a tad creepy. It had that quiet, strange smell that one finds only in churches.
5 I quietly opened the door and left, headed up to the cemetery in Colma.
6 Ever been to Colma, just south of Daly City? It's the cemetery equivalent to Wine Country. There are vast acres of cemeteries everywhere you turn in Colma. I was searching for Holy Cross Cemetery. The day clouded, and fog moved over all the graves as I searched the town for this huge cemetery. I finally found it up a short hill, and drove through the long entrance, surrounded by huge rock crosses, rolling hills of them, and partial clouds above.
7 As I pulled in, the song Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles happened to play almost as though by design.
8 There was nobody there. Nobody anywhere, not at the church, not at the cemetery, not around any curves. It was vast crosses and graves, with this strange music playing perfectly in the background.
eleanor rigby
picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been,
lives in a dream.
9 So strange, and so poetic. Clouds drifted overhead, and fog crept silently over the tops of the hills. I was driving around the different areas of the cemetery trying to find a live person. It was cold. Nobody came.
10 As I drove around, the song kept making sense, in some gothic way. All the lonely people. Where do they all belong?
11 I thought of my friend, and of the strange passing of his mother, and of my childhood, and of what this all means.
12 Every now and again life surrounds us like a strange television show.
13 I worried I would run out of gas right there in the cemetery; in fact I had an entire short drama going on in my head, a story where that exact thing happens to a guy, you know, the clouds, the fog, the eeriness, and a guy placed in the middle of all of it, and he's low on gas. It's the stuff of eerie Twilight Zone episodes.
14 I headed out of the cemetery and into the town of Colma, which consists of acres of graves, beautiful ponds, Italian cemeteries, Serbian cemeteries, pet cemeteries, and monument stores where the bereaved shop for the final accoutrements for their loved ones. Several people shopped the marble merchants, while others looked for new cars in a couple of car dealerships. The similarities were striking.
15 I finally found a gas station in this very odd town. As I pumped the gas, I looked over to the guy next to me, you know how you do. He was wearing a shirt that said "crossroads" on it. I looked at it, and then up at the clouds.
16 Hopping back in, I shifted and drove back to the cemetery to see if anyone had arrived. Again, it was empty, and the huge crosses seemed to have doubled in the shadows of the morning.
eleanor rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name.
nobody came.
17 There was still nobody there.
18 I drove, and the music kept moving through my body like a chilling wind.
father mackenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walked from the grave,
no one was saved.
all the lonely people,
where do they all come from?
all the lonely people
where do they all belong?
19 I moved through the shadows and stones, through the autumn leaves and the entire weirdness, and eventually found my way back out. Eventually, I returned to find everyone else, and we met up and talked solemnly about life and love, and all that is. Funeral chat that happens on blustery days in the Fall.
20 After spending time laughing and reminiscing, I headed back to the calm familiarity of home, and rested, lost in thought.
21 It was a strange but poetic day, all in all. It's difficult really to express other than to say that I had one day in my life that dedicated itself to writing and painting a poem, or short film piece, or some sort of sensational piece of art that I happened to drive my way around in.
22 I don't know if this makes any sense at all, but that's what happened to me yesterday. The world lifted me at a strange time in my life, and put me into that gothic setting, and then presented a moment in time to me.
23 And it was brilliant.
24 I have to go now.
25 Peace.
~h~
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