I don't even know much about her. Not what she looked like, or what the C stands for. All I do know is that she owned a restaurant in Tombstone back in the 1880s, (just around the corner from where I live now) and a little ice cream parlor that was one of Wyatt Earp's stops. (The Earps and Doc Holliday would have walked right by it, in fact, on their way down 4th Street to the OK Corral.) And, slim as it is, that's the extent of my knowledge about Lizzie. I've tried to learn more, Googled and Binged and talked to old timers, but can't find a thing, and -- as I say -- don't much understand why I want to know more.
The stone told me some I didn't know. Like, she was 53-years old when she died in 1888, and she was loved by someone. (Gone, but not forgotten... That's pretty much an empty cliché now, but it was more than meaningful in Lizzie's day.) And, she was relatively well to do, I'd say -- that double plot, obelisk, and concrete slab wasn't cheap.
Well... many of the graves in the Tombstone Cemetery have flowers on them, (plastic ones, real flowers don't survive the heat and the monsoons all that well) but Lizzie's grave was bare, untended. And that seemed like something that needed put right, so I bought a little bouquet of artificial flowers, put it in a pot full of rocks for ballast, and left it next to the marker.
Postscript: A few weeks later the clock on my wall stopped. 8:12 it said, but it wasn't. I took it down, put in a new battery, and... nothing. Dead. I shrugged and
decided to toss it and buy a new clock. A better one. Didn't get around to it anytime soon, though. Between putting it off and forgetting about it, that clock hung dead on the wall for two months, its lying hands telling me it was 8:12 every time I looked at it...
Then one day I glanced at the thing and it was running again. The red hand was making its circuit, and the clock was reading the correct time -- 11:15... I took it down and checked to see if I had unwittingly bought a really cheap atomic, self-setting clock, but no... Just cheap goods from China to Wal-Mart to me.
That clock is still on my wall. Still running, and no one I've told the story to can explain it. So call me a romantic, but I like to think that Miss Lizzie dropped by and thanked me for the flowers.