#77 A child’s viewpoint

In August we traveled by Amtrak from Toledo to LA and back, stopping also at Flagstaff, AZ and East Glacier, MT. Before we got to Chicago the first day, the train had stopped to let another train pass. It was a beautiful day and we were traveling coach sitting near a large family. I overheard the pre-school boy and his older teen-age brother talking as we sat in the observation car while the train was paused beside a very lovely cemetery in Indiana with beautiful old trees and statuary.

“What’s that?”
“It’s a cemetery. Where they bury dead people.”
“What happened to them? Why did they die?”
“I don’t know. They just died.”
“Well, maybe. . maybe. . . maybe they all got together for a picnic here, and someone started a war, and everyone died, so somebody else came and buried them.”