So the next day I went back to Graceland Cemetery to find Death from issue 2 and the Greek ruins from issue 3. Finding the statue of Death is easy. It marks the family grave of the pioneers who founded the City of Chicago. But no one is interested in the plaque on the back. Everyone wants to peer into Death's face to see how they're going to die.
That's not me talking out my ass. That's the urban legend. The first time I looked Death in the face? I saw Death's face and nothing more. That's held true for every subsequent time, including this most recent visit. Nothing. But it was good to see an old friend.
I was tempted to pull a Bill Murray in Ghostbusters 2 when he's taking pictures of a certain Carpathian, but maybe a cemetery isn't the best place to do that. But know in my mind I screamed, "Destroy me!"
Finding the place that looks like the Greek ruins on the cover of issue 3 was a little more difficult. Death is practically at the entrance. But I had to find the little island from which Fuller and I got the pictures for the third issue of Tabard Inn.
The cemetery was fairly deserted that day. I'd only seen one jogger there. But as I got closer to a forgotten corner I saw a coyote wandering around. Coyotes aren't super common around here, but they're not uncommon, either. Although this close to the city is a little weird. I'm more likely to see them across the street from where I live. The Prairie Path is home to more than a few.
But this guy looked a little big for a coyote, so I took a curve, and as I saw more of the front of the coyote, I realized, holy shit, it's a fucking WOLF. I don't think I've ever seen a dusty-colored wolf before, but that's what I was seeing in that moment. I stopped the car, and the wolf and I looked at each other for a while. I wondered what it would be like to come across such a creature in the wilderness. Wolves usually only attack in packs, but I felt certain that if I didn't have the protection of society and the car I was sitting in, this thing could tear me to pieces. If it wanted to.
It didn't want to. It seemed a little curious about me, but not curious enough to approach. So I waved, and it turned its head a little, and I drove off.
I did find the island, but that didn't mean I knew where the ruins were. I just knew I'd be able to find them once I had the island. It's a little island for a few graves, but you cross a bridge to get there. I like standing on bridges over small bodies of water because I can usually see the bottom, which means I can watch the fish. There are a lot of carp in that little creek, and I enjoyed my time watching them.
An attractive young woman approached me and asked if I was looking for someone. I smiled and said that I'm just enjoying the view. She said OK and walked away. Only then did I realize she was looking for a blind date. Meeting a blind date on an island in a cemetery? I'd love to hear that story.
But I make it a habit of not putting my nose where it doesn't belong. I'd found the island. I didn't need to walk around on it and interrupt her quiet time. I left her leaning on a grave, writing in a notebook.
I followed the path around until I found the ruins. They don't look quite like Greek ruins up close, but when seen through the trees from the island? Different story.
It's still a pretty excessive grave, but then again Graceland is full of those. I got up close to what I thought of as the Greek ruins.
It's a pretty imposing structure. I don't know who the Palmers were, but they must have been either very rich or very important or very both. A lot of local historical figures are buried at Graceland, including Allan Pinkerton.
I had the pictures I wanted, so I headed out of the cemetery. Which is kind of difficult because it's big, and you can get turned around easily. If you live in the Chicagoland area, I recommend spending an afternoon at Graceland. It's at the corner of Clark and Irving Park. It's a beautiful place.
Watch out for wolves . . .
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