I was recently “killing” some time as I waited for a friend I had dropped off at the Group Health Hospital on Capital Hill in Seattle.
Rather than dropping more money in Starbucks I drove north on 15th to the Lakeview Cemetery to see what the dead were up to-
As I cleared the gate into the cemetery I noticed a group of eight people going through various Karate, Kungfu, and contortionist high kicks just a bit west of the main gate.
I parked behind them and walked up the hill, from the west, to see what it was they were up to in the freezing fog that was hugging the ground. I watched them throwing kicks and punches at invisible foes until exhaustion took its toll.
After a few minutes of rest they moved off at a trot towards the street.
I walked over to where they were going through their ritual to spot Bruce and Brandon Lee’s final resting place.
Now I understood. I think-
The unique stones were littered with flowers, notes and one bag of food. I wondered if the food was left by mistake or intended for activities after the gates swung closed and darkness was the last companion of the day.
What struck me the most, as I stood there looking at Lee’s grave, was the stone just to the left of his. About three feet away a marker calls out P.J.Malone, County Mayo, born 1837 (under British Rule), died free in 1879 (just before the British took Kabul.)
I stood there wondering what this Irishman would think of the hoopla surrounding his neighbors.
Pilgrims paying respect for a myriad of reasons!
How many wonder about P.J. Malone and the sights and sounds he experienced before taking his place on this little hill forever staring out at the Cascades.
How many wonder if P.J. was a man or a woman?
Did you flee Ireland during the great potato famine?
Were you homesick for the old sod up until the day you left us?
What is your story?
I don’t think Bruce would mind that I moved a bouquet of flowers from his stone over to P.J.’s