I took a little walk on New Year’s Eve. It was later in the afternoon before it got dark. I felt like I needed a little fresh air and a little exercise. So naturally I decided to take a walk in the cemetery in Manti.

It was “natural” because there’s plenty of fresh air in the cemetery (depending on the time of year and the fragrance of the turkey coops on the breeze). And, if you stay on the little cemetery roads (which I don’t), it’s a good surface for walking there.

Another plus for me, in favor of cemetery walking in Sanpete, is the fact that I’m surrounded by friends. Seeing the names on the markers brings back great memories of a lot of people who have “gone on before.”

One headstone I paused to read was for a woman who lived nearby in my neighborhood. In April, she will have been gone for two years. The reverse side of her stone reads: “Someday, everything will make perfect sense. For now, laugh at the confusion, smile through the tears and keep reminding yourself that everything happens for a reason.”

My stroll in the cemetery logged on my phone’s “Strava App” as a little more than a mile. Strava is a social media application that is one way of keeping track of your exercise activities.

It is another way of connecting with friends and family. So, that means for me, it’s another way of seeing how lame I am at staying active as compared with all my other fellow Strava members in my social circle.

I have one friend in Mt. Pleasant whom I have told, “You have no ‘off switch!'” He is constantly recording activities all the time, all year round — cycling (long rides) hiking, skiing, yoga, weight training, paddleboarding, swimming, you name it. Many of you may know him. (His initials are RS)

My exercise in the cemetery was not just walking. I did some public service as well. The wind had come through and blown over a bunch of wreaths, some Christmas trees and other decorations at the graves. I took some time and stood quite a few of the trees up and re-decorated them. I tried to put things back together on quite a few graves. (Pats myself on the back) But, there was more work to be done than one old guy could do before it got dark.

Before getting back into my truck, I said “hi” to Judge Don V. Tibbs and his wife, Marjorie. Their graves were nearby. Many of you more mature Sanpeters would have known them. They were across-the-street neighbors of ours.

Judge Tibbs was 92 when he died in 2016. He had lived long and well.

I remember going to his “visitation” before the funeral. Usually, around here, we call these events “viewings.” When someone says, “It’s good to see you,” it’s become common for people to respond, “It’s better to be seen rather than viewed.”

Some people think viewings are morbid. Seeing Don’s body there among family and friends wasn’t morbid to me.

It was quite a serene “viewing” of him in his casket with a Snickers candy bar in his hand. I paused and I thought of the concept of “dying of having lived” as was said of Father Latour in the book “Death Comes for the Archbishop.”

Last weekend, I attended a viewing in Las Vegas. My wife’s uncle, Edward D. Smith, passed away at 88 years of age. He was a spectacularly successful guy in the realms of family, church, friendship and business. He was also one who “died of having lived.”

He was involved in more businesses than you could “shake a stick at.” For example, if you’ve ever eaten a “Cuties – Clementine” mandarin orange, that would have come from a business that he co-founded and was involved with to the end of his life.

Uncle Ed’s burial, with military honors in the Toquerville, Utah, cemetery was memorable for me. The folding of the flag and its presentation was especially impressive and touching. Ed’s life was a life well lived.

I guess there are several messages that could be taken from this column today. First, cemeteries are good places to take a walk.

Another would be that it’s good to “die of having lived.” And lastly, perhaps, it’s a good idea to securely fasten your grave decorations in the cemetery. The wind inevitably will come, plan for it. — Merrill