Graveside Watch..
"We stood beneath a tall black Pine at the edge of Glenridge road,..and I watched,..as you knelt with gentle grace,to stroke the handsome face of your only son.
Did young Tom die in some ill-conceived cavalry charge during the Civil War?..
There are no strangers here,I thought.
In this sheltered place where loved ones pause,to renew the ties that bind..."
I've wanted to document this little slice of O-Town for awhile.
While it may seem a little macabre at first glance,it's really just a way for me to integrate my love of art,and history,and the pensive nature of Sunday in season.
I don't know any of these people.
I do know that they lived,for a time,and that they were loved.
...I wonder.
Did young Tom die in some ill-conceived cavalry charge during the Civil War?..
...Josie...In Heaven.
Her loved ones could barely afford this simple,yet poignant memorial.
I have no such lofty rememberance in mind for myself,once I shuffle off this mortal coil.
I'd like to think that my own humble carcass will be on display in some theatre of higher learning,where serious students will giggle nervously,as the instructor makes clinical fun of my "extremities"..
..Have a great week kids!
Labels: Necropolis
Make chex payable to §£ïñg 1:17 PM
19 Bootleggers
19 Comments:
Funny. Just the other day I was thinking about how much bigger and more elaborate grave markers are these days than they were 100 years ago. Somebody's always looking to make that extra buck, and somebody's always willing to spend it, I s'pose.
Oh, and 10 bonus points for "Necropolis."
I love looking at old gravestones. And I always wonder about the peoples' stories.
I love cemetaries. As a kid we would go every sunday to Calvary in East L.A. to visit Uncle Vove and Aunt Nuna. When I went to Italy in 2004 to find my roots we spent days in the cemetary looking for my lost family. Elaborate, decorative, pictures etched in the stones, stories, it was wonderful.
I'm another who likes to walk about and read the names and wonder... feels like an honour thing... not just curiousity... we too are allowed our holy places, and life is sacred
I don't find them sad at all... its all to do with time passing and you have a sense of this there...it can be humbling.
I go out to Wauchope cemetary where Don is buried with a big bunch of all his Grevillias, and Kangaroo Paw Flowers etc...... it doesn't often upset me because he is not there at all... its for me.
On one side is a young man who was killed under a farm tractor... and I add some of my big bunch to his if none are there. On the other side is a very old lady who seems to have only one visitor...
Its been 11 years since I went to the home cemetary...and intend doing it after Christmas
Cemeteries should be for the living not the dead --- from catcher the in the rye
great photos
i happen to across the street from a cemetary and love it. great view and i get bagpipes and incense on a regular basis.
it's also a cool place to go bike riding with a little buzz.
Oh, you give good cemetery!
I'm glad we live in an age when we know better than to plan little housing projects for ourselves, but it's hard not to love cemeteries for being miniature cities with splendid and wild architecture.
I love love love old cemetaries and wandering around wondering about the stories. Thanks.
It appears you have struck a chord in the secert goth club eh? Add me to the list of funerary fans.
count me more in the camp that likes funerals rather than cemetaries. cemetaries are scary. i used to hold my breath when we drove past them. but i do love funerals. they make me feel close to people... but i'm a weirdo.
I was thinking the opposite of Lex, that grave stones are much smaller and plain-looking these days than they were 100+ years ago.
But then, I don't know any dead rich people.
HAH HAH! Monica holds her breath when she passes a cemetery! Ah c'mon Mon (mon Mon?) - breath in the death. BREATH IT!
I spent the night in a cemetary once. Don't tell Mon.
Cemeteries are wonderful places to honor and remember those who've gone before us.
I plan to go to medical school after I die.
At Fort Riley Kansas,near Custer Hill,there is a cemetary where hundreds of graves are marked simply,"U.S.Soldier"..It seems there was an outbreak of cholera back in eighteen-whatever,and a subsequent prairie fire wiped out all the names of the interred..It's something to behold.
I highly recommend Arlington National Cemetary,and if you're ever in Los Angeles,stop by Forest Lawn.The art and architecture are astounding.
Bring a picnic basket and the kids!..Everyone does.
These are great! I love walking through cemetaries, especially the old ones. Like MC said, it seems more like honoring. I used to walk my dog in an old local cemetary in Hungary, and found out later that the Hungarians thought I was weird and couldn't figure out why anyone would go there to look at markers that you have no connection to. It just felt peaceful there, and it was interesting to think about who they were.
I took a class once, in another life, where I had to work on cadavers. I didn't get ill or queasy at all, but wondering about their stories kept me up nights. Not in a creepy sort of way ... hard to explain. I just wondered so much about their lives, who they had been, before they ended up in my A & P class. I got a little obsessed with it, actually. It infuriated me when some of the young guys would make jokes.
Another one that loves to stroll through old cemetaries. In truth, the rare occasions I get to walk through the family cemetary down home is a very life affirming thing actually. I walk among the ancestors going back to seventeen hundred something or another, and it gives me a real sense of connection with the universe. As I stand there and look out over the pine trees and tobacco fields behind it, I realize it probably looks a lot like it did when all those other generations of my people were laid to rest there.. And I wonder some day if one of my kin will wander by and wonder about my marker there and feel compelled to look in the family history and see who I was.
I still have a collection of etchings taken off gravestones when I was much younger. We would gobble down some mushrooms, and find small, country, cemeteries to explore. Some of the sentiments we would find, were heartbreakingly lovely. It wasn't a "death trip" we were after, it was a search for the testimonies inscribed on these beautiful old markers. It was quite the serene adventure...
wow..now there's a place I could ..
rest in peace...
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