The older one gets, the more dead people one knows. Which not only means more funerals, but also more gravesite visits. After a while you begin to figure out that it's really all about you--that is to say, about your comfort and convenience. What difference does it make to the dearly departed where they're buried? It's not as if they can enjoy the view. But you can. Though it's located in the heart of Minneapolis, if it weren't for the headstones you'd swear Lakewood was a country club. The grass always has that freshly clipped look, and lush trees line the paths that meander gently throughout the grounds. In springtime the landscape spills over with flowers--not just the ones brought in by visitors, but actual flower beds that explode with color and fragrance. Those who aspire to rub elbows with the rich and famous for all eternity won't be disappointed here: Hubert H. and Muriel Humphrey repose here, as do moguls galore--from the Pillsburys to the Washburns to the recently departed Curt Carlson. Maybe you'll end up near the final resting place of Rudy Perpich or Floyd Olson, or perhaps the inimitable Tiny Tim (look for him in the mausoleum, where he passed to the next life under the name Herbert Khaury).


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