When I lived in Wyoming, the greenest place in town was the cemetery. When I first began my running exercises, it was in the mazes of roadways that I timed myself, always working on running more and more. I walked there with a book, and even rode through on the bike on several occasions. It was peaceful and beautiful, and surely in our day that is generally the sense that one would assume about such a place of mourning and sorrow.
Back in our youth, I spent a lot of weekends at my brothers house since he lived very close to where I worked and my working hours were all clumped in the weekends. I usually earned my keep by cleaning the house which included tackling the dirty dishes...and I think I was the only person in the house that ever washed the dishes, and that was only on the weekends.
I went to pick up a young teenager to take him to church as I usually did one Sunday and his visiting half-brother wanted to go with us, so I drove both of the boys to church that day which happened to be Halloween, but one of them was wearing a fedora that was part of his Halloween costume. The boys got into a group of other church kids around their age and the whole group started to pass the hat around the circle.
Those that have been in the church for a while know the scene all too well: The head of the building committee gives the announcement on stage that the plans for the renovation are complete and it will only cost a few million dollars. The congregational heartstrings are pulled and the people are asked to fill out a pledge card.