For the life of me, I don’t understand why I find so much inspiration and enjoyment in a cemetery. Oh don’t worry, I’m not plot shopping. But I have to confess, the older I get, I do find cemeteries more intriguing.On Wednesday, I visited the little known Camp Chase, a confederate cemetery on the west side of Columbus, Ohio. It is a well maintained, neatly enclosed final resting place for more than 2100 souls who were held captive at this Civil War Union POW camp. I’d learned about this while researching “things to do in Columbus, Ohio” when I knew I was going to be here for a week; I’ll let others go to the zoo, the science center, or the art institute. I was headed to walk among the dead. The markers all faced west with the names of men, and their division or unit from Virginia, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, the Carolinas, Maryland and members of the Texas Rangers.
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| Judy, visiting with British WWII vets at Normandy. |
But just like my visit to the American Cemetery in Normandy France, I was inspired to come back and dive into that time in our American History, and learn more about the people who ended up at Camp Chase. Who were the Texas Rangers? Was Maryland really a slave state, and who recently placed small state flags next to all of their sites? (I know that emblem now, thanks to the Big 10!) And really, what was a conscript? I knew I should know, but its meaning escaped me. And why did some markers say Citizen, I wondered.
And while standing among the markers, I of course let my memories fill with the final farewells to my parents, and the simple graveside funerals for both my grandmother and my aunt. And I reflected on how they influenced my life through the way they lived theirs, and instead of crying in sadness, I drew in a deep breath, raised my head toward the warm sun, and smiled, filled with the inspiration they had each given me to make the most of my own walk.
Cemeteries are not sad, or spooky, or fearful places for me. When I was in second grade, I marched in my first parade, dressed in my Brownie uniform, on Memorial Day, ending at the local cemetery. I even got to help adorn the grave sites of veterans with small American flags.This was a proud and exciting day for this seven year old, and frankly, my first introduction to a cemetery. Gentle rolling hills, manicured grass, large trees that provide plenty of shade, it was, and remains a beautiful place.
When I was in junior high school, I had a core group of friends, and four of us shared one thing in common – mothers who never found a way to help us understand the “facts of life” beyond the very rudimentary facts required for an 11 or 12 year old in the 1960’s. Fortunately, our fifth friend’s mom, a nurse, bucked the norm, and took advantage of the beautifully photographed Time Life books on this very subject. So throughout the summer, we’d meet at Kathy’s and walk to the same cemetery, where we’d find our place over the small knoll where no one else could hear or see us, and we’d squeal, and laugh and gasp at what we learned while pouring through those books. Oh, what we learned in the cemetery that summer…
But my favorite cemetery memory was the day my sister Barb turned 50 and to celebrate, she and I went cemetery exploring with our sister, Judy, the family genealogist. Though Judy’s directions were spot on, never did we expect to climb a fence and side step a herd of Holsteins and their droppings to get to the small family cemetery in the middle of a farmer’s field. It was surrounded by an old, forsaken wrought iron fence under a massive tree, and as we wiped away the headstones to read names and dates, Judy took notes and snapped pictures to help her record the information. Since this time, I always smile when I discover small collections of gravestones contained within a boundary reflecting a family’s piece in time. And laugh when I recall the three of us teetering on that fence – glad it wasn’t an electric fence.
Whether it is visiting the graveyard at the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi just beyond Saint Kateri Tekakwitha in Santa Fe, or the above ground grave sites and burial vaults at cemeteries in New Orleans and Savanah, cemeteries and graveyards are places that always inspire me to learn more. By the way, did you know that a graveyard is attached or connected to a church and a cemetery is not? That’s the difference, and I just learned that a couple of years ago.
Cemeteries… they may be a place of meditation and contemplation, forgiveness and reconciliation, sadness and anguish, but for me, they are almost always a source of inspiration; to learn, to reflect, to pray, and to enjoy every day I have when I can walk or drive back out of the cemetery.
Tell me, do you have any stories inspired by a visit to a cemetery or graveyard?
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Cemeteries are fascinating, the stories they can tell. Also, as a family researcher, I have encountered, and heard of several serendipitous events. Thanks for this thoughtful writing. Judy
Back in college, after our supper in the dining hall, a group of friends and I would walk six blocks down the tree-lined street to the local cemetery. We amused ourselves by reading tombstones (okay, we weren't a wild and crazy bunch + this activity was free!). The college was in Milledgeville, Georgia, once the state capital. Many state legislatures were buried there as they died during session. We learned a lot about state history and geography by taking those after dinner walks!
Then, many years later, I attended a workshop where one of the activities was taking grave rubbings, framing them, and learning, once again, about a lot of history, architectural details, and lifestyles of the "residents." One of my favorite quotes on a tombstone was, "Been there, done that." Another one that caused a lot of pause and reflection was, "Her six minutes of breath will be cherished til the day we die." I think I started to understand the love of parents while standing over that small grave……Crystal
I thought I was the only one who is fascinated by walks in cemeteries! Once again, all these years after VHS, I find we have yet another connection.
Here's one of my cemetery stories ~ When I took my fourth graders on a bus tour of Badger Ordinance Works (and there's another really interesting place to read about!) we found out that there are three cemeteries on the land. One grave, in particular, struck me ~ Waffenschmidt. The name means "Weapons Maker," and I found that to be both touching and ironic. Also, one of the "cemeteries" consisted of a plot of land about six feet by six feet (and probably another six feet), with a little picket fence around it. There was one marker inside the fence, but I couldn't read the name on it.
Cemeteries, like historical markers along the road (or, as I like to call them, "brown signs") somehow have a siren song that makes me want to pull over and take a look around.
As a fellow taphophile I also appreciate cemetaries. I love the history and mystery of them. When I travel, I enjoy going to the cemetaries in town and matching up the names I've seen in the cemetery with names of streets, on buildings, etc. I also find cemetaries are great places to run or walk. And no two are the same.
I have spent a lot of time in a lot of cemeteries by myself over the years doing research. They are a wealth of information. I never knew the difference between graveyard and cemetery though. Enjoyed the read as always. -Michelle Davis
Thanks Judy. I always enjoy going on research visits with you.
Glad you enjoyed it Michelle. They are fun to explore.
A taphophile? That's a new one for me. Yes, I am sure they make for good running and walking sites. But some can be good hiding places too – be careful.
Interesting about Badger Ordinance Works and the marker there. Thanks for the comment. Beyond the info cemeteries provide many are just beautiful places.
I meant to add, right next to my parent's marker in Viroqua is a marker that reads Jane Doe 1984. Isn't that sad.
Oh, I have chills reading that second quote. Thanks for sharing. Yes, we could have been friends in college. Enjoyed your comments.