Wicked Philadelphia (and its tapophiles)

At long last a diagnosis: My name is Elizabeth, and I'm a tapophile.  That's right, I love tombstones.  But you already knew that.

I found out the word for my obsession when I sat next to the charming author and local historian Thomas H. Keels at Saturday's book launch festivities at Laurel Hill Cemetery.  I was invited to read my short essay "Finding the Grave of my Ancestor," which appears on p. 114 of 175 Years of Reflections, Laurel Hill Cemetery: 1836-2011.  I was slated to read first at the event, and my essay met with a polite round of applause.  Then Keels, who was next, had to go and bring the house down with a hilarious story of how he learned to love Laurel Hill despite a tour gone horribly awry. 

Turns out I bought (and relished) Keels's book Wicked Philadelphia: Sin in the City of Brotherly Love long before he had the pleasure of showing me up... I mean, before I had the pleasure of hearing my fellow tapophile speak.