My Experience Visiting Bruce Lee's Final Resting Place
A little over a year ago, on May 13th, 2017, I visited the final resting place of Bruce Lee and his son Brandon Lee. At that point I had been living in the state of Washington for about three and a half years, and had also visited the state a few times previously within my lifetime, usually to see relatives and friends. I had by then visited and enjoyed many of the major sites, including but not limited to the Space Needle, Pike Place Market, many of Seattle's museums, and more. But one thing I realized that I hadn't visited at that point was the final resting place of actor and martial artist Bruce Lee.
Bruce Lee lived in various places, being truly a world citizen. He was born in San Francisco, grew up in Hong Kong, found his way back to America, spent much of his early adulthood in Seattle, and eventually moved back to Hong Kong for his film career, where he died in his early thirties. While living in Seattle Bruce Lee accomplished much, studying at the University of Washington, teaching martial arts, and marrying his wife Linda Emery. Despite the fact that he died in Hong Kong, Bruce Lee's body was sent back to Seattle to be buried, where much of his growth happened. Years later his son Brandon Lee, who also died tragically young while in the midst of beginning a film career with the movie The Crow, was buried next to him.
On this particular day I visited Seattle's Lake View Cemetery. It's a beautiful cemetery, filled with lush greenery. Many infamous and influential people are buried here, including Princess Angeline, the daughter of Chief Seattle, the poet Denise Levertov, department store founder John W. Nordstrom, and the painter Cordelia Wilson. There's also a memorial dedicated to the soldiers of Japanese descent who served in World War II.
Eventually I made it to the final resting place of both Bruce and Brandon Lee. This is where the story gets weird. I'm on my way to the tombstones, which are hidden from my sight by a few bushes, when I hear screaming. I hear a man who sounds like a drunken frat boy scream, "We're here man! We're finally fucking here!" Similar gleeful screaming goes on, with the addition of two or three other men trying to calm their companion down. One says, "We should probably leave now." The crazy man then goes, "No way man, we've been planning this trip for ten fucking years! I want to stay all day! I want to sleep here in the cemetery right beside Bruce Lee! Dude, let's spend the fucking night here!"
While this is happening a white van drives up and out comes a Chinese tour group, all ready to see the final resting place of Bruce Lee. They all look baffled in their matching T-shirts and hats as they see the screaming and most likely drunk and intoxicated obese white man at the cemetery. I can't imagine that any of them expected to see this scene when they were planning their vacations to America.
After about ten minutes or so of listening to this man ramble incoherently he and the rest of his companions leave. I head over to the burial site and sit down on a bench next to it, thinking about and admiring Bruce Lee and the many things he achieved. I see many flowers and bouquets that are left behind for both Bruce and Brandon Lee, and the members of the Chinese tour group leave even more.
Among the flowers I also notice a large, lone shoe. And then, from the other side of the cemetery, I hear a familiar voice echoing. "Dude," the rambling voice says. "I left behind my fucking shoe!"
Note: My book "Mele the Mermaid" is available for purchase.
Bruce Lee lived in various places, being truly a world citizen. He was born in San Francisco, grew up in Hong Kong, found his way back to America, spent much of his early adulthood in Seattle, and eventually moved back to Hong Kong for his film career, where he died in his early thirties. While living in Seattle Bruce Lee accomplished much, studying at the University of Washington, teaching martial arts, and marrying his wife Linda Emery. Despite the fact that he died in Hong Kong, Bruce Lee's body was sent back to Seattle to be buried, where much of his growth happened. Years later his son Brandon Lee, who also died tragically young while in the midst of beginning a film career with the movie The Crow, was buried next to him.
On this particular day I visited Seattle's Lake View Cemetery. It's a beautiful cemetery, filled with lush greenery. Many infamous and influential people are buried here, including Princess Angeline, the daughter of Chief Seattle, the poet Denise Levertov, department store founder John W. Nordstrom, and the painter Cordelia Wilson. There's also a memorial dedicated to the soldiers of Japanese descent who served in World War II.
Eventually I made it to the final resting place of both Bruce and Brandon Lee. This is where the story gets weird. I'm on my way to the tombstones, which are hidden from my sight by a few bushes, when I hear screaming. I hear a man who sounds like a drunken frat boy scream, "We're here man! We're finally fucking here!" Similar gleeful screaming goes on, with the addition of two or three other men trying to calm their companion down. One says, "We should probably leave now." The crazy man then goes, "No way man, we've been planning this trip for ten fucking years! I want to stay all day! I want to sleep here in the cemetery right beside Bruce Lee! Dude, let's spend the fucking night here!"
While this is happening a white van drives up and out comes a Chinese tour group, all ready to see the final resting place of Bruce Lee. They all look baffled in their matching T-shirts and hats as they see the screaming and most likely drunk and intoxicated obese white man at the cemetery. I can't imagine that any of them expected to see this scene when they were planning their vacations to America.
After about ten minutes or so of listening to this man ramble incoherently he and the rest of his companions leave. I head over to the burial site and sit down on a bench next to it, thinking about and admiring Bruce Lee and the many things he achieved. I see many flowers and bouquets that are left behind for both Bruce and Brandon Lee, and the members of the Chinese tour group leave even more.
Among the flowers I also notice a large, lone shoe. And then, from the other side of the cemetery, I hear a familiar voice echoing. "Dude," the rambling voice says. "I left behind my fucking shoe!"
Note: My book "Mele the Mermaid" is available for purchase.
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