I’d never thought about it before but suddenly I’m very glad the ancient Romans didn’t crucify people from an oversized horseshoe. Were that to have been the case our churches certainly would from the outside be difficult to distinguish from casinos and our necklasses and rings would suggest we’re followers of Andrew Dice Clay.
Apparently when you die on the highway down South, they put up a one-sign-fits-all memorial for you.
Lotta highway accidents in the south.
The first time I ever saw a roadside shrine was when I was in New Mexico around 1991. At least there they have the decency (or did) to hang those beautiful and biodegradeable ristras instead of tacky, tacky, tacky (did I say tacky?) plastic, faded flower wreaths with rain soaked, faded, rotting stuffed animals and crap. Hate, hate, hate them!
The part I wonder about most is when a little shrine will pop up one day without there being anything on the news about a death in a car wreck. Do people come in years after the fact and decided to post these things? How goulish. “Jim’s been dead for 10 years, but let’s renew our grief by having a little ceremony on the side of the road where he killed himself while driving drunk!”
My first trip through Switzerland and a Swiss friend was driving us up a steep, narrow road to a little village at the top of the mountain. On the drive up, there were hundreds and hundreds of crosses along the road. I asked if this was a religious holiday and he said, “no, each cross is where someone died in a traffic accident.”
Sure made the drive up and back a fun one.
And Shirley, don’t worry.
My pyschic told me you were going to live to the age of 106 and you could even live longer if you avoid going on the SDMB on your laptop while taking a bath at Shady Pines.
… Cartooniverse…
