Wednesday, August 7, 2013

So That I Can Feel the Rain...

I've mentioned before our penchant for visiting local graveyards.  We are historians after all, and the residents of these plots are our people.  And I don't mean for this to be a depressing post!  



Growing  up in California meant that cemeteries were massive tracts of land somewhere out of regular view.  They were over there, where we didn't have to see them or be reminded of our own mortality.  But here in the mountains of Tennessee,  the graveyards are part of the neighborhoods.  Little family plots in the side-yard , slightly larger church cemeteries,  gated off necropolises near shopping malls & every so often a modern cemetery acres wide with uniform headstones & carefully manicured lawns.

The older ones are beautiful. From the detailed headstones to the random wrought iron. This particular cemetery has been around since 1803. Funny story about it. Way back before the Civil War, the cemetery was the family plot for one of the few slave owners that resided in the area. Our particular location in Tennessee was pro union, anti-slavery and generally opposed to obstinate displays of ill-earned wealth. When the Civil War broke out, this slave owner joined the Confederacy where his wealth made him a colonel and his incompetence made him a joke. They called him Old Mudwall, and his officers actually signed a petition against him, calling him "a man of irritable temper intensified by diseased nerves and aggravated by being in a position for which the man is morally and physically unfit."

Anyway.

Immediately after the war, the plantation was turned in to a school for boys.  But in 1876,  a prominent member of The Society of Friends purchased it and turned it in to a school for African Americans and a training campus for African American teachers, which it remained until 1910, when public schooling came to the area.

The people in this cemetery had amazing lives, every last one of them, however briefly they were on this planet.  Lives with stories and with families and with adventures.

So we do our best to remember them.  It is our job.









There is one fenced off section here where an achingly old tree resided.  It was planted when the first grave was dug, as a symbol of life from death.  

Its amazing to see that tangible evidence of time.  The wrought iron fencing literally goes through the tree, absorbed, and the massive tree hugs the faded stones.  


I find it all rather beautiful.









I know of bloggers who enjoy using cemeteries as backdrops to fashion photo shoots or places for picnics. They are beautiful places, but I don't like the idea of using them as scenery for something so self-indulgent. On the flipside, there are those who think of cemeteries as frightening places, or a dark and daring place to visit.

But they aren't scary places.  The whole reason people are afraid of them is the same reason Californians put their cemeteries where no one has to see them-- its fear of dying, not the place itself that frightens us.    

But a graveyard isn't about us, its about them, and ultimately its about love.  Someone loved this person so much that they couldn't stand the idea that they might be forgotten.  So they put up a stone as a testimony to the life lived.  

The point of a cemetery is to step outside our own narrow lives and to remember for a moment those that came before us,  as their loved ones fervently hoped we would.




If you get the chance, and are so inclined, go visit a local graveyard.  Just for a few minutes, just to read some names and recall the lives lived well loved.


   


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14 comments:

  1. That is one of the points of a cemetery, isn't it? Perhaps there's so much more we could do with cemeteries. Have a wall where one lesson from each of the persons buried there is written, for example.

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  2. This is an amzing post.
    I was sent over to your blog from Nugget on a budget and I am glad you are very talanted with your blog.
    I am hoping to win the amazon card to help with school supplies

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  3. This is a beautiful post. I feel the same way about cemeteries, and I grew up in Ohio, right next door to one very similar to the one you visited (except ours didn't have the cool wrought iron fencing...but it did have a big bell out front). Next time I visit home I will have to see whether any of them may have been Civil War soldiers.

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    1. You will have to let me know what you find!

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  4. I have always wanted to go to a local graveyard in a little town and take pictures like you did because you're right, cemeteries here in California are too huge and pretty and sunny and bright.

    Jan Loves

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    1. Have you been to the Forest Lawn Memorial? Lots of famous folks are there

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  5. Beautiful post Taby. Beautiful pictures, beautiful thoughts. You are right; cemeteries are about love. Memorials are about love. I like that (and I like wandering through graveyards too, trying to piece together stories from names and dates).

    Lovely that as old as this graveyard is, it isn't forgotten. Grass clipped, flowers bloomin. Cool tune at the end...

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    1. Believe it or not, the home is now a bed & breakfast, and the owners take wonderful care of the grounds! It actually runs in to an even older cemetery near by, but it isn't in nearly as good a shape, sadly.
      Jeremy and I actually do research some of the headstones, particularly of "our boys"-- World War I era for him, Revolutionary War era for me. Its lovely living somewhere with such history!

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  6. This is nicely written. I don't find cemeteries depressing, particularly very old and leafy ones. I agree it's wonderful to pay tribute to lives lived by visiting and reading the stones. When I was a teen, we used to visit a cemetery with the gravestone of a boy who had died young. I think he was supposedly a prince. They said if you touched it, you would die before 18. I admit that one creeped me out a bit. :)

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    1. Yeah, that would have creeped me out too lol

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  7. Oh Taby, Taby, Taby! How I loved this post, I too and hugely find of a cemetery for exactly the same reasons. I live to wander around, trying to glean what I can about a person or a family, by all that remains of them. It fascinates me, I feel like it'd a duty to respect these please and these beautiful reminders. Oh a d the names! I just love the names! I feel a little the same way about old keys, I can't resist them. Knowing that they were once so important and that now no one wants them makes me have to have then. Then I spend hours studying them and wondering what their history was.

    Chuck me in a graveyard with a bag of old keys and I'm a happy girl, Lordy that sounds strange!

    Loved seeing these stones and hearing their tales, thank you.

    Kate x
    Just Pirouette and Carry On...

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    1. I can't imagine the awesome graveyards your village must have!! You really ought to take pictures, I'd love to see them. And lol on the keys-- oddly enough I have a collection of old door knobs, so there you go, we are meant to be friends lol!

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