Eventually, you have to leave. Graduate, I mean. People tell you this, occasionally, as though it helps. The bubble will burst; you'll be shuttled off to some dim department of the world beyond; and you'll have to, they say, make a living. You've made plans, yes? Some place to go after here?
Well, they've missed the point. Grad school, jobs, marriages, cross-continental relocations -- trivial stuff, in the end. Because eventually you really have to leave. I mean, die. And where are you going then? You've made plans for that ... no?
Then make haste to the U.Va. cemetery's Web site. Here you will find, in typical U.Va. fashion, an application for admission. List your title, your rank, your GPA and extracurriculars and -- if you are sufficiently superlative -- you may earn a spot for eternal recumbence in the most hallowed grounds on Grounds. Alas, all the true graves are full, but as of 1987, a new row of real estate opened for occupancy. It's called the Columbarium: a handsome wall on the northwest perimeter partitioned into little cubbies where you may shelve yourself or your loved ones (neatly combusted and packed into jars, to save space for others).
Compartments are $2,500 a pop, not bad for a lease that never runs out. Compare to our second-most-hallowed cubbyholes: $4,500 for just two semesters. And unlike the Lawn, the cemetery levies no alcohol restrictions, no grill size limitations and presumably no regulations against extension cords. The lack of indoor plumbing is, I imagine, less troublesome. The scenery is every bit as lovely here -- the trees more luxurious, I would actually submit -- and the company just as fine. There are fewer noises, fewer tourists and fewer naked people at night (I suspect, though I have not confirmed).
Residents get, it is true, periodic wafts from the O'Hill fryers -- the unmistakable scent of hash browns being churned out for breakfast, a touch of apple crispito on special days. But oh! These are the scents of youth! What could more please your pile of ashes? Imagine: your mouthless ghost recalling the bright bliss of scooping brunch off colorful plastic plates, refueling after a night of wandering JPA in search of a party you never found (and probably for the better).
What happier place to spend perpetuity than the quad between Old Dorms and New?It could be a new community: two cubbies away, the kid you dated first year; inbetween, your chemistry professor. You'd be lovingly tended as well: Each Columbarium purchase includes perpetual care, upkeep and haircuts, or whatever dead things require instead.
But here is the best part of the whole venture: You can buy your grave today. Just check the Web site: You don't need to be dead to purchase a compartment. They will kindly save it until you become so. Picture that! You could, this very year, mosey a few hundred yards from your dorm and see your own final resting place. "Rachel Carr: 1987
Read More
It’s okay not to be okay
By Mai Hukuoka | 4 days agoWhether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.
Taking a break at Tangerines Kitchen
By Charley Thomas | 6 days agoWhat the restaurant somewhat lacks in ambiance, it compensates for in tasty dishes and prompt service.
Virginia Policy Lab — a hub for student-led policy action
By Katherine Haden | December 9, 2024Students propose their own projects and collaborate with other members to research their issues of interest, brainstorm solutions and write policy proposals.
