Skylawn and the Meaning of Death

Skylawn Cemetery lies at the intersection of Highway 92 and Skyline Boulevard, at the very crest of the mountains running down the Peninsula. It has a breath-taking view towards the ocean, which makes it the perfect place for a quiet afternoon far from the madding crowds. But it's the social organization of its denizens that is the most striking aspect of the place. Whoever said that death is the great leveler didn't reckon with the preferences of the survivors or with the power of club memberships.

The grounds appear to be racially segregated, whole swaths of lawn being reserved for Asian memorials, for instance. And Americans clearly don't outgrow cliques when they graduate from high school, as witness the group memorials such as the Veterans Memorial of the Golden West (which has a headless but winged Victory of Samothrace ready to fly off the handle) and those dedicated to social clubs like the Elks (which boasts a particularly ostentatious "mausoleum" full of symbolism somewhat reminiscent of the Freemasons).

It's business as usual in another sense as well. I just found out that I can buy a "Double depth lawn crypt for two in Garden of Remembrance" (regular price $4,849, on sale for $2,500) or an "Elks Mausoleum double crypt overlooking ocean" (regular price $10,795, on sale for $5,000). With crypts as with beds, it seems—the majority come in doubles.

In the "Woo's Memorial Garden," however, no expense has been spared. It has a memorial to father and mother Woo (and possibly one lesser Woo) who all lived a life of hardship and privation in the old country and were most dedicated to education and hard work. This memorial, expressly built to encourage Woo descendants to think of parental hardship and sacrifice in the midst of their own prosperity, or so it claims, exhibits a striking similarity to the sensibility and ideals of Zhang Yimou's "The Road Home," in which the death of the father forces a son to reflect on the values and the dedication of his parents. These may be commonplaces of Chinese homiletics, but in a California setting they are both unintentionally amusing and touchingly quaint.

It's not until you get to the (execrably named) "Terrace of the Innocents" that you catch a glimpse of what the entire cemetery is about. These are the graves of little kids, their favorite toys ranged round their little plaques. Where all the other graves are marked with pious sentiment and dutifulness, these are about heartbreak. Clearly, no death as painful and as difficult to leave behind as that of a little one.

Marijke Rijsberman

Thoughts? Let me know: marijke@interfacility.com

More Information
"Cemetery Property" for Re/Sale
The Road Home (IMDB)
The Road Home (Rotten Tomatoes)