Cemetaries – Page 8 – Catching Marbles

It was gorgeous out today and well worth wandering. I left the house to explore some odd corners of Leominster. I had heard a rumor there’s a stone in one of their cemeteries that belongs to a man who had it inscribed with, “Was persecuted for the beard.” Apparently he had a luscious beard. And people didn’t like that. The story gets so bizarre I really wanted to see his stone but the directions I had to the unnamed cemetery were atrocious. I turned around in many a good fellow’s driveway. And just as I was about to give up I found myself parked directly across from a cemetery that seemed somewhat hidden behind a big stone wall adjoining a park. Off I went!

It turns out the park and cemetery are adjoined. The park was once a military training ground for soldiers as far back as 1812. The cemetery was older. It was filled with absolutely pristine and ornately carved slate stones from the 1700’s. According to the plaque this was Pine Grove Cemetery and buried there were no less than ninety-four minute men. This is a Revolutionary War buff’s dream. And I will be damned! In yet another clusterfuck I forgot the camera and the pennies I like to leave as a sign of respect. So I took these photos with my broken phone and they probably aren’t great but they do show the exquisite attention to detail… even the poems are still clearly legible.

We didn’t find our bearded man here so after a nice walk I drove off and bumped into another cemetery not far away – the Saint Leo Cemetery. This was a much larger cemetery that reminded me a lot of the moneyed cemeteries you find in Lowell MA and Rochester NY. Big beautiful monuments, angels weeping, cherubs lurking behind every dark corner, Greek styled women in mourning towering over the stones, and even a huge mausoleum. I can think of no better way to while away an afternoon.

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If only you could read my resume. It would have a lot of life experience, a whole ton of odd stories, a dizzying collection of skills, and yet nothing you could possibly use to hire me for anything. Cemeteries are a good way of illustrating this because I have volunteered many a summer day to archive them. I know, you’re scrunching your nose wondering what exactly that means… It means I went out with a group of other women who were super into genealogy (which sadly, I am not) and we toured all the old cemeteries in the area, scribbling on outdated maps and tattered notebooks a few key details – where each stone was placed, what they were made of, what they read, and any other notes. These were being compiled for a book for prosperity – almost finished but not published yet.

I was the youngest on the crew in those days so my eyes were of more use than anything else. I was given the stones everyone else had given up on – the markers who were so worn down by wind and weather that they were virtually impossible to read. I LOVED this work. Sometimes I spent as much as forty five minutes trying to hobble together what one stone read, a task that took particularly long because old stones in New England often have whole poems inscribed on them. Often they’re beautiful rhyming quatrains, elegantly written in the vocabulary of the day, which makes trying to figure out what they say even more difficult. Luckily I had some practice in Old English and knew a few tricks (like old F’s look like S’s and words like “warbled” are nearly obsolete but real.)

I can’t tell you how great this experience was. I learned so much about local history doing this. I jotted down the graves of Revolutionary War soldiers, I witnessed in writing the lives and deaths of slaves (yes, New England had those too,) I got to see the profound effects of dysentery which killed a great deal of children under the age of ten, I also read on various stones about children dying in factory accidents, old women spontaneously combusting, and even a note to someone who had claimed to invent powdered milk. And if all that wasn’t enough I became familiar with the art – as many of these stones had intricate and eerie carvings of weeping willows, urns, bundles of wheat, cherubs, and skulls.

Imagine our surprise when we were driving to Doane’s Falls and stumbled upon a cemetery we hadn’t archived. I was thrilled, I can’t say the woman that organizes these little ventures was quite as much. This was a large cemetery and she thought she was done! We parked the car and took a quick jaunt to see if maybe she had just forgotten this place but nothing seemed to trigger her memory. I took a few photos and this is really what New England is all about – history, art, poetry, nature, and look at those stone walls in the background. I would miss those dearly if I ever left this place.

I will be writing a further entry if in fact we haven’t archived this cemetery because that means I will be back for a far closer look!

***I apologize for any missing photos and galleries as I continue to work getting Catching Marbles fully migrated to a new host. Please come back soon for restored photos and thank you for your patience!***

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Rochester New York was an interesting place to visit.I had been there visiting before but this was to be with friends and I didn’t get to see many of the sights of the city – ‘least you could the road they affectionately call “Drive By Shooting Way.”

At first I ended up on a group lunch date of sorts with some of the aforementioned friends. They were insistent on going to Moe’s, a burrito chain restaurant with killer food. I must say they were all very cheerful and friendly people, all smiling and laughing and having a good time.

I wandered off after this to explore the city a bit and ended up at a salt water fish store. The place was a windowless business with a wrought iron door, outback of some real businesses. No business sign was anywhere to be found and the door itself looked liked either a loading dock or else some other utility door the public shouldn’t be using. Still, the insides were just as amazing, if not more so, than the last time I’d been here. Along with their gorgeous coral and salt water fish they added a rare fresh water fish collection which sported the most unusual fresh water fish I’d ever seen. They were all vibrantly colored and so healthy!

From here I went to a record store which had so many neat things. I was out of cash and couldn’t buy anything. It’s a shame too as they had a bunch of records I had been looking for since getting my turn table, that I had never seen before. Oh well. I’m sure I’ll eventually find them somewhere else too. The record store was actually in an old mill they were converting into a mall. It had bizarre little stores and shops and a gallery atop it covered in fish and sea creatures as well as some other fantastically odd sculptures. I took photos and awed for awhile. Despite being a mall I couldn’t help myself from whispering here. It was as quiet as a library and I felt like I needed to be using my “inside voice.”

I still had some time to kill so I went to Rochester’s historical cemetery. Frederick Douglas and Susan B Anthony were buried here as well as a lot of other famous Rochester personalities including its founders, politicians, poets, and artisans. I parked next to a little boarded up cathedral and I got a weird spooked feeling. I got out of the car and walked to Susan B Anthony’s grave. Despite being dead for a mere 105 years someone was still leaving flowers on her grave. I probably would have left some too had I just happened to have some posies on me. She was after all a pivotal figure in the woman’s suffrage movement and an advocate of women’s rights. Another passerby asked us where Frederick Douglas’ stone was before being pointed in the right direction. It was only a minute after I heard an enormous CRACK! WHOOSH! THUD! It came from the direction of the Jeep. I started to walk over there to see what had happened. As I was walking a man from below the hill yelled, “Did you see that?!” “Yeah I saw it!”

When I got to the bottom of the hill the damage was evident. There under a massive branch lay the Jeep, it’s roof compartment completely busted open with a leopard print snuggly puking out of it. I however was not the only one to suffer damage. A man on a motorcycle had just driven up when he heard the crack. He dove off his bike and under a utility truck, suffering a few scrapes and bruises. His bike on the other hand was crushed, lying beneath a limb, pinned to the ground. It reeked of gasoline.

I looked at the Jeep and hoped none of the windows were broken or the engine damaged. I wanted to be able to get home. The woman we had directed towards the Douglas stone was back with her husband and daughter. She was a teacher from Vermont and wanted to know if it was my car who had the unfortunate parking spot. Yes.

Her husband called 911 for us to get the firemen and police out here. I took a few photos and was standing aside when a second thunderous CRACK was heard overhead. I ran back as another giant branch fell directly on the Jeep, another park of it crashing into four or five grave stone and knocking them over as if they were just bowling pins.

I called 911 again to try and get the firemen out here soon as a third branch was hanging from above by only a thread. 911 put me on hold, twice, once after calling, and a second time after I refused an ambulance and said no one was hurt. When the firemen finally arrived they sectioned off the area with warning tape. The police were there soon after to make a report and in a few minutes Jacklyn the Jeep was being uncovered and eased out of the parking spot. The passenger side’s fender was dented in badly and had to be sledge hammered in order to open the door without ruining it. The roof sustained a large indentation, the roof container was completely obliterated, the hood was crushed in and sliced down the middle. There were scratches galore… but the Jeep started up and ran and none of the windows were busted. I was more fortunate than I thought I would be.

I drove to Casey’s apartment, an old friend who said I could stay with him for a night or two. Just as we drove into his parking lot the Jeep died. Within a matter of a minute the air conditioning had stopped working, the engine over heated, and the battery died. Upon closer inspection I learned that the tree fell on the hood with such force that it crushed the air cleaner resonator and broke off the alternator. I called the insurance company. They told me that since we didn’t happen to have comprehensive insurance they would not cover any of the bill. The only thing they would cover was a rental car, which they would only give me after we’d checked the Jeep into a mechanic with the money they weren’t giving me. OK, so if I’m understanding this right, they were not going to cover any of our bills because the tree picked a fight with the Jeep, however if I picked a fight with the tree, they would have been fine paying for that! UGH.

I now had a full tank of gas, a broken Jeep, and $30 in my wallet to get home, more than six hours away. Things weren’t to remain gloomy however. Several of the other former coworkers pitched in to McGyver the car back together with duct tape, a piece of Tupperware, and some super glue. The Jeep was again running, this time with a great deal of added character. To make things all the better a pot was passed around the office and $100 was raised to help in the effort to get back home.

Dinner was a party and I ate very well. Everyone was smiling, laughing, telling grand stories and funny office anecdotes, and just generally having a good time. I had a wonderful visit, was helped by a great deal of wonderful people, and was on my way, tepidly but surely.

Also a big thanks to everyone who did pitch in! I couldn’t have gotten home without you!

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Ever since I was a tween I dreamed about going across the entire United States and soaking in everything it had to offer. I had grown up in a bubble – and as nice as that bubble was I wanted to know what else was out there besides the trees and stone walls of New Hampshire. Was it really like visiting another planet out West? Where the people the same all over? Was there anything that united this society besides the idea of country? As much as I longed to know the answer I kept my dreams to myself until at the age of 25 an opportunity arose and I figured it’s now or never.

Suddenly my freakish encyclopedic knowledge was actually useful! I picked lots of destinations – everything I had ever wanted to see from the geysers of Yellowstone, to the fossils of Butte National Monument, to the charismatic Robert the Doll in Key West. I was going to do it all.

A map was procured, one of those big pastel maps of the United States you see hanging in history and geography classes in every public school. Pins were stuck into desirable destinations like some sort of 2-D voodoo doll and then the waiting… the ungodly anxious waiting as the weather slowly creaked from one bone frigid season to something a little more livable. It begins!

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!

Category: Cemetaries

Leominster MA – Historic Cemeteries

Cemetery at Old Centre Royalston MA

Jeep vs Fallen Tree – Rochester NY

And so it Begins!