There's a certain interesting decorum that goes on beside a stranger's graveside or monument. I remember once walking across a lawn at Pomona college with my sister and she was swallowed up to her ankles by quicksand mud. We went to wash her feet off in a memorial fountain for a student who'd died in 1922 at age 21. My sister didn't want to be sacrilegious or disrespectful, but followed my logic that he was our age and would be cool with it. So we laughed and joked with him while she got the mud off.
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