• My mom just had to drag me to my little sister's Girl Scout troop meeting at some small, boring Methodist church near the end of some long, winding road on the outskirts of town. Not much was around it. Some small, old houses were nearby, and little cars went along the road, so it set a creepy feeling, to match the dreary sky. Come on! What am I supposed to do there, play with a bunch of 5- and 6-year-olds? I think not. So I went out onto the tiny playground ment for toddlers. So what? I was bored. And like most of these old churches, there was cemetary right next to the playground. I have been a scaredy-cat all my life, but I wanted to explore the cemetary, so I stayed well inside the gates of that playground, reading the headstones from afar. I came across a faded one, hard to read, probably around a century old. The only thing I could read were KIDWELL, LOUISA, ELL, BORN 1900, DIED. Nothing else. So I looked up, and so across the lot about 5 or 6 polished, brand new headstones, all bearing the name KIDWELL. It was creepy. Did I mention it was creepy before? If this Louisa person was related to those Kidwells across the lot, why wasn't she there with them? Was she shunned from the family? Did they forget her? Were they even related? I wonder...