Beauty in the Cemetery

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Elton John & Bernie Taupin

Beauty In the Cemetery

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, they say.

Beauty is as beauty does.  They say that, too.

Let me show you beauty from a beholder’s point of view. 

The Beautiful Girl was almost ready for her first big formal dance.  Her date, a boy friend, but not a boyfriend, arrived to pick her up.  He knew her, of course, but he, too, was nervous.  It was his first big dance, as well.  He rang the bell, the door opened, he was invited in.  He stepped inside the house and waited in the entry way for the girl to come down from her room.  In her silver, strapless gown, with her hair done just so, with minimal make up, she appeared.  The young man’s knees buckled.  He had to catch his breath and catch himself on the door jamb lest he fall over.  It took more than a moment before he could speak. 

On another evening, the Beautiful Girl went to dinner with her parents.  The family entered the dining room of the restaurant, they saw a couple they knew well.  They had come to know them after their daughter had left for college. The couple knew of her but did not know her.  The wife looked up, saw her friends and smiled in recognition.  She waved and the girl’s parents could see her mouth “Oh, look who just came in,” to her husband whose back was to the approaching family coming to the table to say hello.  As they did, the woman’s husband looked up to say hello.  He greeted the wife and husband before he looked to the daughter.  When he did, however, his jaw dropped.  For a brief moment, he was speechless.  He recovered before the Beautiful Girl’s father broke out laughing.

“You’re going to have to be careful,” the girl’s father sometimes warned her.  “Some people will love you and some will hate you because you are beautiful.”  “Oh, Dad,” she would answer.  “Don’t be goofy.  I’m not beautiful.”

But she was.  She was profoundly, deeply, enduringly, knee-buckling, jaw-dropping, head-turning, everlastingly beautiful.  That she was unaware – and unaware of its impact – only magnified the fact.

Her father was right.  There were those who loved her because of her beauty.  Boys, of course.  Over the years, there was a succession of young men.  They came from all walks and backgrounds, but they had one thing in common.  They loved the beautiful young woman deeply.

There were girls, as well.  Her circle of female friends was tight and wide.  There was a certain cache which came from being her friend.  Most of her friends were, themselves, attractive.  In her presence, though, they were even more so. Reflected glory. 

And there were those who hated her.  Both boys and girls.  Boys who thought they didn’t have a chance.  Girls who were just plain jealous.  They befriended; they betrayed.  They talked sweet; they talked trash.  The Beautiful Girl rose above it and saw them all as friends.

Let me tell you what beauty does.

The Beautiful Girl had a warm heart and an old soul. There was a succession of young men who passed through the Beautiful Girl’s life.  Over the years, as one boy or another and the Beautiful Girl broke up, they remained friends.  Actually, they usually remained good friends.  Oddly enough, over the years, the boys, too, often became friends.  Their shared experience of love for the girl brought them together and bonded them.

One young man was a college classmate named Jesse.  Raised in Manhattan, Jesse’s uptight, rush-rush experience had been quite different from the girl’s rainy, slower-paced Northwest lifestyle.  Apparently adapting to a laid-back Colorado life-style, Jesse didn’t seem to believe in combs.  Or shampoo. Or razors, electric or safety.  He tended not to groom much.  His wardrobe consisted of a few tattered t-shirts, jeans – various pairs with holes in various places – and hiking boots.  For dress-up occasions, he had a shirt with a collar.  For winter, he had a hand-knit beanie, scarf and down jacket.  For travel, he had a backpack.  What Jesse also had was a facile mind and the sweet disposition of a cocker spaniel puppy.  In a New York minute, Jesse had endeared himself to the Beautiful Girl.  Before visiting her family, the girl made sure that Jesse had a tooth brush. 

And so they came to the Northwest to meet family and visit friends.  At Christmas.  That made it interesting.  Jesse, you see, was Jewish.  His father, a Rabbi.  The Beautiful Girl was Catholic.  Her uncle, a priest. 

The girl’s family wanted to be sure that Jesse was comfortable in their home, with the holiday.  They filled a stocking, a deep blue stocking decorated with a silver dreidel.  Jesse, for his part, had brought Christmas presents for each of the members of the family.  They liked each other; they all got along well.  It was a good holiday.

However, everybody seemed to know that this was not going to work out.  Lovable as Jesse was, there were just too many differences between Jesse and the girl.  The only person who wasn’t aware that the relationship was doomed was Jesse.

After the holidays, they dated a while longer.  As winter thawed, trees bloomed and the weather warmed, the relationship began to cool.  Jesse bought a comb to go with his toothbrush.  He bought some cool, fashionable shorts.  He even showered regularly, but it was to no avail.  They dated less and less although they still saw each other frequently.  As friends.

In time, the girl met a new guy.  There was something different this time.  Something solid.  Something lasting.   There was also a different challenge.  It was graduation time.  After commencement, the Beautiful Girl planned to return home, find a job and start her life.  Both Jesse and the new guy would be left behind.  It was clear though that only Jesse would be left alone.

“You gotta say good-bye to Jesse,” the new guy said one day.  “You gotta tell him that you are leaving to go home.”

“It’ll break his heart,” she replied.  “It’ll be really tough on him.”

“Yes, but…,” was all he said.  She nodded.

“Jesse,” she spoke into her cell phone, “can we get together sometime in the next couple days?”

“Sure.”  Hope?

“I’ll pick you up on Saturday morning.  Coffee. 10:30. How’s that?”  Jesse had neither car nor license.

The Beautiful Girl picked up the shaved and brushed young man at 10:30 the following Saturday morning.  As they drove, they talked, caught up on how the semester had ended, how graduation had been fun, how the summer was heating up. Why he had shaved.

They drove past one Starbucks.  Then two.  They didn’t stop at their old favorite breakfast place.  They drove through the familiar downtown of their college town and on out of town.  It wasn’t long before they reached the town cemetery.  The girl pulled in and parked.  Together they walked toward a fairly new grave decorated with brightly colored potted plants.

“Jesse,” she said as she turned to look at him, “I’m leaving.  I’m going home.  We probably won’t see ever each other again.  I wanted to see you to tell you that.  I didn’t want to just leave.”

Tears welled in Jesse’s eyes.  They rolled down his cheeks.  He began to gently tremble as the tears flowed more and more freely.  They hugged.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I really appreciate that. I’ll never forget you.”

“Me, too, Jess.  Shall we go?” she asked.

“No, you go,” Jesse replied.  “I’ll walk.  It’ll be better that way.  And Babe…thank you.”

As she pulled out of her parking spot, the girl looked back one last time.  Jesse, alone and crying, gently swayed as he stood among the flowering plants.

“You did what?” her dad asked later, after he had heard the story. “In the cemetery? Why…?”

“Well,” the Beautiful Girl said gently, “I knew he’d be sad, and I figured he’d cry.  I didn’t want him to be embarrassed, so I took him to a place where he could cry openly, in public, and no one would care.”

That is what happened.

That is what beauty does.