I went to visit the grave in my early twenties, just an hours drive from my house.

I was convinced that the groundskeeper I would have no idea who I was talking about, but when I said the name he responded instantly with a well-worn, detailed set of directions. In hindsight, Im sure he mustve told thousands of visitors the same thing.

When I saw it, someone had scrawled “That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die” in black ink on the stones base. I had mixed emotions about it –the glee of recognition and acknowledgement of devotion; anger that someone would desecrate such an understated, serene object, and relief that ALL they used was a Sharpie (Ive seen Jim Morrisons grave.)

Second pic may be hard to make out, but the little heart-shaped rock tickled my sensibilities.