I once wrote a condolence card to the widow of my former headmaster, who had often styled himself "Head Gardener".

I wrote an except from a poem:

The gardener at last
Has finished his season soil-tending
And is called by his Master
Who wishes to show him an unending
Eden.

Next thing I knew, I received word that she had carved it on the stone as an epitaph. I had always wanted to be a published author, but carved in stone...! Gak.

o if you're ever wondering about the creative epitaphs in a certain cemetery in Washington, Connecticut, there's one of the stories.

--Charlie Baum