About 20 years ago my parents bought three plots in Wilton’s Hillside Cemetery. My mother passed on Sunday, 6.7. Two days later I called the administrator about depositing her ashes with a small hand spade and she said “that’s not allowed…we have a maintenance professional who does that for plot owners, and our fee is $750.” I respectfully told her that I found this morally offensive. I might have agreed to pay $250 but no way am I paying triple that. (The average funeral in Connecticut runs about $13 grand, I was told by my mother’s accountant.) So I decided to discreetly spread her ashes around the Wilton Playshop, where my mom directed and performed in plays during the ’60s and ’70s. No, I didn’t ask permission. Her friends (which included renowned opera singer Betty Jones) just drove there en masse after last Saturday’s memorial gathering at Cobbs Mill Inn. I scattered the ashes in the ivy near the base of the theatre foundation and in a nearby garden area and into a flowing waterfall across the road. A perfect spot. If my mom could somehow learn of this she’d be delighted.