love of cemeteries

 

It is an oddity of my child hood that we spent quite a bit of time in old cemeteries. My grandfather would take us to a cemetery to pitch pennies while my mother and grandmother were shopping. My parents took us to cemeteries to make rubbings of the grave stones. They taught us to interpret the information on the grave stones to reveal a small part of the story behind the person lying there and the circumstances of their death. I recognize a mother that has died in childbirth by the presence of her infant child lying next to her, usually dying within hours or days of the mother. The influenza pandemic of 1917 is another easy to spot occurrence.

 

 

Even the most meager of old cemeteries will often have wonderful trees that may have been growing for centuries, like this magnificent spreading oak tree. Here in Springfield Ohio, we have a small historic cemetery dating to the post colonial settling of the area.

 

 

The cemetery holds the remains of American heros. Including one of the "Indians" that participated in the Boston Tea Party, just prior to the American Revolution. Many of the headstones can no longer be read, their inscriptions erased by time and the elements.

 

 

Some of the headstones are crowned with colonial designs, quite different form the victorian decorations more commonly found in other old cemeteries in the area. The stones are worn, weathered, and often dressed in lichen and moss.

 

 

Here we have the the remains of Elizabeth Strain, "Consort" to her husband. In this cemetery, the term consort is found on several markers while "wife" is often used as well. I don't know if there is any difference in the usage of the words at the time. Something for me to look into.

 

 

I don't find cemeteries spooky or scary, even when visiting them at night. They are comforting and peaceful, as though I am in the presence of old relatives. I've visited cemeteries all over the US and in Europe. They all have the same familiar feel to them, though customs often differer between them.

I am thankful that my parents and grandparents taught us to enjoy cemeteries. For me, I treat them with the same reverence that I give to libraries and churches. Whenever I need a peaceful hour, I know there is always a cemetery near by. Have a little time to kill? Look for a cemetery. The older, the better. I am not impressed with polished granite and marble. A nice worn stone will do fine.

What are your feelings about cemeteries? Do they have any special memories or connotations to you?