200 men and women in uniforms. Police. Fire Department. Sheriffs. And a funeral. At Hollywood Forever Cemetery for Heaven's sake! To see our Major Crimes family in full LAPD uniforms, with stars and bars and hats causes goose bumps ... or could it be that we were shooting in a cemetery?

I love visiting cemeteries, always have always will. As a child we visited the local cemetery on "Decoration Day" as my grandma called it, placing bouquets of fresh picked peonies and lilacs on the graves of fallen soldiers and not forgotten family members. I'd wander off and look at dates and names and the fancy carving on the marble and granite head stones. My mother always made sure we walked over to the "Paupers Field" where there were many unkempt graves and home made grave markers. She always left flowers on the sites of the forgotten babies and often pulled up weeds or straightened up the little wooden crosses. There was a stone that fascinated me and still does today when I repeat the walk through Paupers Field. It was a small white marble stone with a baby lamb on top. I loved that headstone ... a few years ago when I visited this little cemetery the head of the lamb had been broken off. Sad.

Brenda Leigh in her uniform is an awesome sight. The 100 % polyester uniform fits her like a glove, thanks to the artistry of Maria, and is lined in silk charmeuse, unlike the other uniforms of the rank and file. I mean, Brenda has and does wear polyester on occasion, but never without a silk lining! Pope in his office with his gut hanging over the belt line was hilarious. JK Simmons who has gained a bit of weight since we wrapped last October, looked like a stuffed sausage in his uniform, he didn't want us to let it out as the weight gain was to be a story point. However, JK did stick his belly out as far as it would go when he shot his scene, just to make it look, well, bigger than it really is!

Hollywood Forever Cemetery boasts a large population of famous folk buried in this lovely garden setting. We were set up right next to, of all people, Mr. Blackwell, the renowned fashion designer who always published his "worst dressed list." I paid my respects and also tried to find the grave site of Adrian, the famed costume designer who my beloved Irene replaced at MGM in the 1940s. And then there's the touching mausoleum of a Titanic survivor, who was just a child when the big sailing ship sunk, and lived on to a ripe old age here in Los Angeles. There's a small leaded glass window with an image of the Titanic and the sun shown through it into the small white granite structure.

After Delks funeral and a visit to the crime scene, Brenda changed into a brown vintage Irene with a dickie of paprika wool at the neckline. The button detail on the front of the jacket is in a triangle motif and I pulled a several-seasons-ago Alfani from Macy's multicolored striped skirt in a mitered pattern that echoed the button design of the jacket. The next day Brenda changed into a peony-colored Pure Collection cashmere cardigan and a JC Penney American Living lilac and magenta floral print jersey dress.

The colors of Brenda's sweater and dress harkened back to the flowers I placed on graves as a child. When I was an adult and I'd visit the little cemetery with my Mom, I'd let my little dog, Blanche, run through the lush cemetery grounds. She'd gallop with great abandon, weaving in and out of the stonesb loving the freedom of the green grass and towering elm trees, then suddenly she'd stop—dead in her tracks—and look at something, or nothing. I of course couldn't see what she saw, but they say dogs do have a 6th sense ... if only she could have told me what she saw.

The wealthy Dixon family was picture perfect in Lily Pulitzer, she in a colorful sheath that showed off her "vacation sun tan" and the Mister in a lime green Lily Pulitzer polo that matched the wife's dress perfectly. Their son wore an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt and Rock and Republic jeans. On the other end of the food chain was the college professor and his wife, the Banks family, he in a shirt from Nordstrom that we over dyed in rust and a pair of Nudie jeans, a very popular brand that most guys hear about from their gals, because the fit is so fine, and she in a JC Penney, I Love Ronson sundress and draped sweater.

Last year I made a decision for my afterlife. My parents had bought, years ago, real estate in the little cemetery of my youth, a plot for them and a plot for their family. My parents and sister are buried in their plot ... that left an undeveloped section for me, so I decided while I could afford it I'd buy my headstone. I chose an incredible black speckled granite, and had the local monument maker fashion a modern bench out of the rock featuring both the polished and rough forms of the granite. The bench allows me a place to sit in the shade of a cottonwood tree and with peony bushes blooming pay my respects and recall the memories of my family. Friends think it odd and a bit morbid that I already have my gravestone, but it doesn't have any dates on it yet ... thank god. It does, however, have a poem that is etched in gold around the edge of the polished granite bench. It reads: Perhaps they are not stars, but openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines upon us to let us know they are happy ...

So if in the far off future you should stumble upon this stone and poem, pay your respects, say hello and remember that I love a good visit to a cemetery whether there are police officers in full dress uniform or a little dog running with great abandon ... and like Blanche keep your eyes open for whatever dogs can see that we can't.