BEST TOMB WITH A VIEW

Even the best tomb has something in common with every other tomb: Death and remembrance.

This is Napoleon’s Tomb. It’s a tomb with something for everyone.

Overhead view, ground level view under the curve. It’s got it all.

And family in the house.

The surroundings are gorgeous. The Alexander Bridge is across the street.

It’s in the shadow of the towering tourist destination, a short walk to the military academy that had two schools, infantry or artillery, and included on the grounds of a huge hospital complex turned museum.

The Invalides.

The funny part is the onsite history giving Napoleon’s brother credit for rehabbing the image of the man who rampaged through Europe.

No tomb for this one:

The best tomb isn’t the same draw as Napoleon, but the weirdest is.

Still On The Job

If you need to see a preserved human, and you’re not a medical student, this is it.

Lenin’s Tomb.

Like Napoleon, he’s centrally located, a benefit ‘for the people.’

The main difference between the two? Napoleon is in his box.

I don’t need to see mummified remains to shore up my self-esteem, and I’m guessing you don’t either, dear reader.

Do you?

The closest I’ve come is the day my father in-law died.

He was a man with severe health problems, a man given two days to live so, ‘Yes David, it would best if he died at home.’

A man in a coma woke up when I ‘Pep Talked’ him like a drill sergeant, and alas, a man who lived five more years in my devoted care.

This was also the man who offered me five hundred dollars on my wedding day to call it all off.

We negotiated.

He rented canopies in case it rained in Sandy, Oregon instead.

Where were we? Okay, I woke up, went to his room and he was dead. Now what?

Since it was expected, I called the funeral home, who called the police, who showed up to investigate a murder-death.

We answered questions together and separately, police work style. It was thorough and pointed. One of them got a radio report and called the other five off.

Turned out to be a misunderstanding in the chain of events for an expected death. Then the funeral home people showed up in robes. Work robes?

My mother in-law wasn’t ready to say good-bye to her man. I asked one robe how long we could postpone, so the next eight hours I had a dead in the bed man.

That was long enough to get a little creepy, let alone a hundred years.

Best Tomb, Best Location, Best Man

Am I promoting Lord Nelson? For Best Tomb? Yes.

Not an authoritarian icon on display to twinge a fading memory, nor a glorious gilded hall, Lord Nelson resides under the first floor of St.Paul’s Cathedral.

I stood at Nelson’s platform trying to remember fifth grade history and the Spanish Armada before my wive started reading labels out loud.

Nelson was outnumbered, with 27 British ships of the line to 33 allied ships including the largest warship in either fleet, the Spanish Santísima Trinidad.

The ensuing fierce battle resulted in 22 allied ships being lost, while the British lost none.

The victory confirmed the naval supremacy Britain had established during the course of the eighteenth century, and was achieved in part through Nelson’s departure from prevailing naval tactical orthodoxy.

Young hero bends the rules and saves the day. He changed history.

I love his underdog status.

And Lord Nelson isn’t confined to quarters.

Lord Nelson Out In The Weather

So there we were in the basement of St. Paul’s. By then I’d seen every crypt along the way.

Nelson’s was different. Not crowded. And it was wet.

The old sailer still had the spray of the sea in his face after all these years.

I looked up to see a small grate in the high ceiling. Drip, drip, dripping.

On closer inspection, the dome leaked.

Then the floor leaked.

Lord Nelson is still commanding his people.

Your turn.