diggndeeperstill
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One Foot in the Grave - Behind the Scenes
It is hard to write a whole lot about the "Behind the Scenes" of "One Foot in the Grave" because the entire book is a peek at cemetery life. Here's some facts I don't reveal in the book, though.
I was the cemetery sexton for the city of Springville, Utah, from December 1995 to April 2000. I also worked at the cemetery part-time from August 1989 to August 1991, at which time went into the newspaper business for a few years as a reporter and editor. After a few years of grueling schedules and deadline pressures, I decided that digging graves was more enjoyable. So when the previous sexton retired, I jumped at the chance to replace him.
The stories in the book actually happened, and the names are all accurate except for two or three people who still visit the cemetery every day. I altered their names to protect them from embarrassment. I will soon begin heavily promoting the book as Halloween approaches. The one place I won't be promoting it is in Springville itself. I still live in Springville, and frankly, my neighbors might not find the book as funny as everyone else does.
One Foot in the Grave - Behind the Scenes
A later version includes this tidbit as well on this page.
Here's a story that was in the first draft of the book, but for whatever reason it got trimmed out. I like it, though, even though it brings back bad memories. I call it: "Two strikes is enough."
I didn’t start working at the cemetery until I was out of high school, but my friends and I took dates there twice. Both turned out memorably.
The first one was after a school dance, and for some reason my friend Mark pulled into the cemetery. We got out of the car for a minute, but we didn’t get nervous -- until a police car came squealing up behind us.
The cop really raked Mark over the coals. The cop made us feel as if we’d broken every law on the books. The fun was over and we took our dates home. But six months later I tried it with another batch of friends, with even less success.
It was a triple date, and when we parked the car the three guys hopped out of the car and ran off through the cemetery, leaving the girls behind. The girls screamed a bit at being left alone, but then one of them wisely slid over into the driver’s seat and drove away! That wasn’t what we’d planned.
The girls eventually came back for us after a stop at a convenience store where they told everyone what they’d done. But even worse, as I saw the girls drive off, I started running after the car. Bad mistake. I failed to see a three-foot-high sprinkler pipe in my path, but my crotch didn’t fail to miss it. Yeow!
I had barely begun to recover when the girls returned a few minutes later. (Of course, my friends thought my little accident was hilarious.) In my mind, that was two strikes on cemetery dates, and I never had the courage to find out what a third date there would bring. Strike three would likely kill me.
It is hard to write a whole lot about the "Behind the Scenes" of "One Foot in the Grave" because the entire book is a peek at cemetery life. Here's some facts I don't reveal in the book, though.
I was the cemetery sexton for the city of Springville, Utah, from December 1995 to April 2000. I also worked at the cemetery part-time from August 1989 to August 1991, at which time went into the newspaper business for a few years as a reporter and editor. After a few years of grueling schedules and deadline pressures, I decided that digging graves was more enjoyable. So when the previous sexton retired, I jumped at the chance to replace him.
The stories in the book actually happened, and the names are all accurate except for two or three people who still visit the cemetery every day. I altered their names to protect them from embarrassment. I will soon begin heavily promoting the book as Halloween approaches. The one place I won't be promoting it is in Springville itself. I still live in Springville, and frankly, my neighbors might not find the book as funny as everyone else does.
One Foot in the Grave - Behind the Scenes
A later version includes this tidbit as well on this page.
Here's a story that was in the first draft of the book, but for whatever reason it got trimmed out. I like it, though, even though it brings back bad memories. I call it: "Two strikes is enough."
I didn’t start working at the cemetery until I was out of high school, but my friends and I took dates there twice. Both turned out memorably.
The first one was after a school dance, and for some reason my friend Mark pulled into the cemetery. We got out of the car for a minute, but we didn’t get nervous -- until a police car came squealing up behind us.
The cop really raked Mark over the coals. The cop made us feel as if we’d broken every law on the books. The fun was over and we took our dates home. But six months later I tried it with another batch of friends, with even less success.
It was a triple date, and when we parked the car the three guys hopped out of the car and ran off through the cemetery, leaving the girls behind. The girls screamed a bit at being left alone, but then one of them wisely slid over into the driver’s seat and drove away! That wasn’t what we’d planned.
The girls eventually came back for us after a stop at a convenience store where they told everyone what they’d done. But even worse, as I saw the girls drive off, I started running after the car. Bad mistake. I failed to see a three-foot-high sprinkler pipe in my path, but my crotch didn’t fail to miss it. Yeow!
I had barely begun to recover when the girls returned a few minutes later. (Of course, my friends thought my little accident was hilarious.) In my mind, that was two strikes on cemetery dates, and I never had the courage to find out what a third date there would bring. Strike three would likely kill me.
