Bury me and Margaret in Leavenworth, KS, where we were raised, where we met, and where we always consider home. But don't bring us home too early.

What happened to their child? Also, why did Abelard's castration ruin everything? It's terrible, of course, but why did it ruin his career and reputation?

First, the castration: it implied scandal and revealed the secret marriage. During the era of cathedral schools, masters were expected to be minor clerics, austere and celibate. It is because celibacy was considered holy and most of his students were destined for the church.

His name was Astolabe: he was born in the cloister (1118) and smuggled out and adopted by Abelard's sister who raised him in Brittany. Later he had a special dispensation at age 26 to become a canon at Nantes Cathedral. May have become an abbot at a monastery and died in 1165 at age 47.

Hmmmm....I don't think I've considered where/how I want to be buried until this moment. I guess I don't care so much, as long as it's cheap. I for sure want as many organs etc. to be donated as possible, and I guess, I wouldn't mind being creamated...although, I'm wondering how that works out at the resurrection of the dead--any thoughts?

Andy and Lindsay: Here are Benjamin Franklin's thoughts on the resurrection--from his epitaph: The body of Benjamin Franklin, Printer (Like the cover of an old book, its contents torn out and stript of its lettering and gilding), Lies here, food for worms; But the work shall not be lost, for it will appear once more in a new and more elegant edition, revised and corrected by the Author. RIP 17 April 1790

I love it! You could have something in Greek or Latin which would require study and effort (and fun classes) to decipher.

Dee Ann: Based on your post-mortem desires, we could begin by deciphering this: Où tout le Dee-Annes ont disparu ? La réponse, mon ami, souffle dans le vent.

What a story. What is the modern equivalent?
Go Liam

Cat-a-fan: Once knew a faculty member who thought he was Abelard.

Please don't bury me
down in the cold, cold ground
I'de rather have you cut me up
and pass me all around.
Throw my brains in a hurricaine
give the blind my eyes
and the deaf can take both of ears
If they don't mind the size.
(John prine, I couldn't resist...)

When I die, I want to donate what can be donated and cremate the rest. Not very romantic, I know, but it's definitely cheaper! :-) I just don't see the point of a grave for me. Scatter my ashes somewhere beautiful if anyone who morns me needs a place to go to for remembrance. (Glacier National Park would be my suggestion!) :-) :-)

Dee Anne: Are you trying to send me to an early grave with all those smiley faces? Do you not see how romantic your comment is? As for me, make it as big a pile of stones as you want. I want a drinking fountain that actually works for my tombstone. And an epitaph! I want to have more than the last word! I want to completely discombobulate future generations with some kind of disconcerting warning plastered on the granite water fountain for generations to come (if there are any)!