Three Feet Under

Today I was pulled off burial duty to help Frog with the headstones. Darrell is cheap, and won't secure any contracts for lawn care or stone setting, so the 6 man crew has more work on their hands than any 20 men can comfortably handle. Since there is no contract for stone-setters, Frog has taken the responsibility, since he's the only guy with any masonry experience. Since the stones weigh about 260 lbs. a piece, I'm there for support.

Frog is an interesting guy. He's a former US Army Special Forces guy, and now he rides with an unnamed motorcycle gang (probably Hell's Angels or the Pagans, I'm not sure which). Although most of the stuff that comes out of Frog's mouth is more than likely fabricated, I'm beginning to think he's the most honorable and trustworthy guy here. This isn't an insult, he is a genuinely good person.

During my first few days with Frog, I was unable to figure him out. Now I know that he is in his mid-to-late forties, is about 260 lbs, has a 16 year old son, larger than him, who can bench-press 420 lbs, and does not get along with his wife much anymore. I can tell this bothers him; he told me how she plans on leaving after his son graduates from highschool. He talks about the people he killed during his duty (not in any major wars), and he has PTSD. He has chronic sleep apnea, night terrors as a result of PTSD, his back was broken in 16 places, he had a nail pierce his eyeball, double knee replacement, he allows strangers to live in his home out of the kindness of his heart (one lived with him for three years and then stole $3,000 and he never saw the guy again), he put three children through college (they don't appreciate him, they only send him cards on his birthday and for the holidays), he is an "enforcer" in whatever club he is a member, he can "fight 5 guys at a time," he snorts Jack Daniels through his nose for a quicker buzz, he's been shot at on the job twice, and shot once during active duty, he once fell from a helicopter and snapped his tibia, only to tie the leg to a stick and finish out the mission, and, no shit, he claims to have killed a man with a toothpick. I'm sure I'm missing countless other little facts on the renaissance man known as "Frog."

Today we had an unusual amount of bikers ride by the cemetery, met by Frog's suspicious eyes. One biker parked in the front lot, by the cremation section where we were working. As he walked up Frog leaned on his shovel and let it be known that "if he starts shootin', get down." The man approached us and kindly asked where his dead father was buried. Frog pointed him in the direction of the stone with designated ID number and the nice older gentleman was on his way. Frog informed me that the way the man was walking gave away the fact that he was packing heat. I think the man was just old, but I'll never know.

We miscalculated the measurements of our holes today. The headstones are supposed to be placed a few inches behind the already buried Urns, but Hank mistakenly drove the 5 foot drill through Benjamin Davis's ashes. The Urn is supposed to be three feet under ground, and the headstone holes are supposed to be drilled down 24 inches, which should prevent this from happening, but whoever buried the Urn (Steve-o) may have been a bit lazy that day. We quickly filled the hole back up and re-dug where it belonged. As far as I'm concerned, it never happened.

Tomorrow I'll be back in the burial section, where we have a disinterment arriving from another cemetery. I assume that it is being moved so that it is closer and more convenient for the family. The foreman, Tom, advised me that the casket has been in the ground for more than 5 years, and if there is any "seepage," to not go near the unearthed casket. Otherwise, if the body is still un-thawed, we'll be good to go.