Laurel Hill Cemetery – Fitchburg MA

The Laurel Hill Cemetery was one of those “destined to be” sort of places. We were DSC_0088winding our way from the abandoned power plant to the Bancroft Castle when the GPS decided to take us down an odd route that happened to go directly by an oddly situated cemetery. The cemetery was on a very steep hill, mostly hidden from sight. It was worth a looksee so up we went!

This was Fitchburg so you never know what you’re going to find… it was a toss of the coin whether or not we’d find a terrific place for a drug deal or a beautiful local secret. Luckily it was the latter. We even met two women up there who were archiving the stones. It had taken them eight years of twice weekly trips to archive several thousand stones and they were maybe two thirds done. They had told us this place was virtually abandoned until recent efforts to clean it up and now people were coming up here to party and ruining things. Annoying. The view from the top was breath taking. From the edge of the hill you could see the older part of the cemetery sprawled out below with a stunning overlook of the city of Fitchburg, even a mountain in the background. Hey if I were to die and be forced to stare at one view for the rest of eternity I can’t say I’d have many complaints about this one. It showed Fitchburg nestled between trees looking soooo…. innocent. And so much like New England. It was a very happy discovery! And one which will have to be revisited when the trees turn color in the fall.

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Driving Around Northfield MA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAYesterday I got the wonderful opportunity to go to a farm in Northfield MA and take a bunch of adorable photos of cows, goats, and Vizlas. It was an amazing experience. Totally worth the sunburn! Afterwards I decided I was in the area anyway, might as well drive around…

I turned off my GPS and took my own instruction, turning down any road I thought might turn into a lingering dirt road. I was immensely rewarded. This are was in the middle of nowhere, a bubble of pristine wilderness between civilization. These roads brought deeper and deeper into the forest and farther from any kind of settlement. It went from houses to hunting camps to absolutely nothing. And then I found a derelict of some sort OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAaside the road. No one was around for miles so I decided what the hell, let’s take a few black and white snaps and maybe poke around a bit. It was a shed, an ordinary shed, filled with ordinary crap you’d normally find in a shed but clearly abandoned for many many years and bizarrely not near any house anywhere. I was slightly concerned I might find a hobo in there but I didn’t, instead I stumbled upon something that made my whole week – it was a river just behind the shed. I decided to explore. I knew this was probably someone’s property but they’d never know and I wouldn’t go far…

This river was only a few inches deep and easy to climb across. There were all sorts of rocks and fallen trees and it was just absolutely gorgeous. Being as it was a VERY hot day it was a wonderful detour as I splashed about and cooled down. The lighting was just right and it threw dappled reflections of the water back onto the trees. It seemed that no matter where I looked there was something even more beautiful with the next blink of my eyes. I must admit I stayed down there playing in the river for quite a while! In that whole time not a single car drove by. In fact upon leaving I didn’t pass any other cars for the many miles it took to get away from this decidedly gorgeous forest.

Eventually I found civilization again and found myself staring into a cemetery. Well, I couldn’t just drive by… so I stopped in. I have no idea what the title of the cemetery was but it was small, had very ordinary marble stones, most from the late 1800’s and was fairly unremarkable except for the gorgeous view of a mountain behind it. As I was driving out I noticed one monument at the entrance and for whatever reason I read it… Somehow I had stumbled upon the grave of a man of science who died in the late 1800’s and was responsible for finding dinosaur footprints in the nearby area. Dinosaur footprints?? I had no idea there were any… and I was super into fossils growing up! Shocked and delighted I wanted to know more. Google said there were more around but where I could see them remained a local mystery. I drove around at random but didn’t find any parks or trails as I went along. Pity. I would have totally found one…

 

From there I ended up driving by a jungle of some sort so of course I had to pull over and take a few shots of what I can only describe as a sight more befitting of Georgia than New England.

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And upon entering Rindge again I decided to stop by yet another lake to take this pretty little snap as well… All and all it was a wonderful day filled with a lot of happy surprises!

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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!


“Persecuted for wearing the beard” Gravestone – Evergreen Cemetery – Leominster MA

Evergreen Cemetery had eluded me previously. Little was I to know I had made it here once but I came in through the upper gate which wasn’t labelled with the cemetery’s name. Even funnier still I was within eye shot of the stone I was looking for that day and had no idea. Today I went with a few “before you go” tips.

I wanted to find the stone of Joseph Palmer who was a man after my own heart. He died in 1873, with great humor. He ordered a stone to be carved in his likeness with the epitaph, “Persecuted for wearing the beard.” Apparently in his day and age men didn’t wear beards in New England, especially ones with any status. It was considered brutish, unclean, and the men who did wear beards tended to be the same people we liked to harass at the time – minorities like the tiny Jewish population that was probably somewhere (in the cities perhaps?) The church wasn’t any happier with his dogged insistence on facial hair than the community was and he was harassed here too. When the local pastor asked rather unkindly why he didn’t shave Palmer replied, “… Jesus wore a beard not unlike mine.” which has to be the best answer ever, if not the reason he was eventually excommunicated from the church.

In May 1830 things got even worse when he was attacked in the streets of Fitchburg by four men armed with scissors and razors who had plotted to shave the beard off themselves. They hadn’t realized they’d be in for the fight of their lives. The old farmer wasn’t terribly patient with such things and he pulled out a knife and began slashing, wounding two of the four assailants. To add insult to injury he found himself arrested after this for “unprovoked assault,” known today as self defense. He was found guilty and fined by Judge David Brigham. Palmer refused on principle to cough up $750 for his fine, court fees, and bond, and was sent to prison for fifteen months.

Prison life didn’t treat him any better than the outside world. Other prisoners continued to try and shave off his beard and prison officials kept coming up with increasingly cruel and sadistic punishments for him. He kept a detailed journal of the whole charade and eventually left…. beard in tact and free… if not with a slightly bruised ego. He only gained his freedom by paying his $10 fine after the judge who sent him to prison begged him to.

His life after that got even more interesting as he befriended many intellectuals and writers of the day. He even ended up being the basis of the character Moses White in Louisa May Alcott’s Transcendental Wild Oats. In 1843 he even joined a commune called the Fruitlands Experiment and when that failed he even tried to run his own commune later in life. He remained active in politics, religious reform, abolitionism, and of course beard activism until the day he died — which funny enough was the same era where beards had once again become fashionable. So now you know the twisted and strange story of Joseph Palmer.

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I must admit the cemetery Joseph Palmer is buried in is gorgeous. Clearly people of great wealth had been buried here for quite some time. I spent a few hours walking and snapping photos of the angels and Cherubs who decorated many stones. Another stone of interest was found in the new part of the cemetery where a woman had been buried with her beloved pet cat Dr Pepper.

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Historic Shaker Village – Harvard MA

This took three tries (and I have no justifiable defense for this) to find the lollipop cemetery which was set up by Shakers who for whatever reason decided that grave stones should be made of cast iron lollipops. They were a weird bunch.

There’s a trail nearby that might go behind these places but I ran out of time (with the sun setting and all.) Instead I was overjoyed to find there were ruins just up the road of an old Shaker church. Also viewable from the road was what used to be their living quarters, a HUGE house now privately owned which I would not be surprised to find out has twenty or thirty rooms… I mean seriously, that’s practically a castle. I felt weird snapping a photo of this house as it was private property but I didn’t hesitate to take a few snaps of the ruins and the graveyard.

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Lowell City Cemetery & Lowell Cemetery

Yet again I set out to go to one cemetery and ended up at another. I can find obscure paths with no markers, historical landmarks no one has ever heard of, cool places guarded by whispering locals, but ask me to find a cemetery, any cemetery what-so-ever and I will find a different one! That’s OK. They’re all beautiful in their own ways. The confusion came from the fact there is both a Lowell City Cemetery (which I ended up at first) and a Lowell Cemetery which has the ever gorgeous Ayer Lion who I like to visit from time to time.

Seeing as I was already at the Lowell City Cemetery I decided to take a quick peak. An enormous monument of an elk had caught my eye as well as an equally enormous statue of a Native American which I couldn’t fathom why it existed in a rich white man’s cemetery. Turns out the Indian was Aspinquid, Chief of the Penacook Indians. Looks like he must have impressed someone… but I am not so certain his age marker of 122 years old at death is correct.

 

After that little detour I finally arrived back at the correct cemetery, the Lowell Cemetery, where the famous Ayer Lion resides. He’s the saddest lion you will ever meet – carved life size in marble he can melt the heart of anyone who gazes upon his sorrowful face or his retiring paws. I have admired him for years, occasionally stopping in to say hi, and respected him just for the sheer fine art aspect of this monument. The artist who carved him put so much attention to detail that he even got the skin flap between the legs and body completely life-like. I know it sounds strange but I always feel like consoling the poor beast with a hug, as if he were somehow real. He’s garnered much attention over the years, as have a few other monuments like “Witch Bonney” who was never a witch and I am not even sure was named Bonney. One of New England’s favorite past times has been to make up scary bullshit stories to scare our children. That was one of them…

 

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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!


 

BONUS! There’s a tiny park just a little ways away from the cemetery which is what I can only call a swamp with a few tables. Totally worth checking out if only for the fact you can say, “I’ve been to a swamp park and befriended some amorous bullfrogs!” I know what you’re thinking and no, none of them turned out to be princes.

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Wachusett Dam Clinton MA & Surrounding Area

I apologize for the lateness of this post considering I went here last Thursday! But that led to forty eight hours of being awake which I paid for dearly with three days worth of a migraine… and here I am, back to tell the story without barfing, so it’s all good! And even with that little set back this was a great find that I found by happenstance.

Initially I had gone to a small town I had never heard of – Harvard, to find a cemetery. As with every entry I have written on cemeteries I did not find it. Instead I grabbed a friend living nearby and said, “Let’s drive!” My intent was to pick a series of roads neither one of us were familiar with… and to visit the next cemetery we came across because why not? It was raining, cold, and miserable, but I was overjoyed to find a cemetery near the school that had some old slate stones with a series of unusual designs on them. Generally speaking slate stones are very plain, while they do sometimes have designs, doodles and geometric insignia are more than a bit odd. Clearly this artist was marching to the beat of his own drum.

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And then I came across something truly peculiar – a set of two slate stones that looked like they had been put up yesterday. As it turns out they were dated to 1900. This is very weird considering slate stones were used in the 1700’s. And yet here they were, more than 100 years past the time they should have been put up – with the same classic designs on them. Makes me wonder.

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From the cemetery we drove down some rural road that went on for miles past farms and woodlands alike. That’s when we came across this crazy house that looked like it was built by Pablo Picasso – doors jutted out at odd angles and windows were piled on top of each other to make a geometric jumble of strange. I literally turned around so I could stop and take this photo of this poor unsuspecting house.

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We continued to drive. I had decided at some point we were close enough to Clinton to check out an abandoned train tunnel but this was merely a suggestion. In all honesty I was in it for the drive today – which I desperately needed.

“You’ve got to see the dam!”

“OK, where’s the dam?”

“You can see it from the road, we’re near it.”

“Wait, there’s parking spaces… let’s walk.”

And that’s how I found myself at the Wachussett Dam. There is indeed a tiny parking lot adjoining the road and it belongs to what is now a park. You must climb down A LOT of stairs but it’ll take you to the bottom of the dam where an old gorgeous water works building is, as well as a fountain, and what looks like a nice bike path for a less rainy day. I was having a ton of fun photographing this place… too much in fact. We were kicked out by a park ranger, sort of… he said we were free to stay if we didn’t mind heaving ourselves over the gate he was closing. I wouldn’t mind. My friend was less than athletic sooo…. we just said thank you and ambled back up those 300 steps. The ranger was a super nice guy though. He told us all about the history of the place. Apparently five towns had to be taken down and resettled so the area could be flooded. This was a water reservoir that fed all of Boston, including the more famous Quabbin water reservoir. I had NO IDEA. Also the water works down below shut down in the 40’s but before that it produced electricity for the town – and pretty much all the equipment to do that was built into the building back in those days which meant it was still there. Maybe during my next visit I will peek in the windows!

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From the Dam we ended up going back on the road and driving randomly until we hit a shop that sold grave stones. Some of their wares were in the parking lot and I found this the perfect opportunity to take a few creepy snaps… in the rain…. in the dusk…. of some gravestones. My only advice, don’t blink!

 

Leominster MA – Historic Cemeteries

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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Jeep vs Fallen Tree – Rochester NY

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!

 

***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!***

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!


 

And so it Begins!

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!


 

 

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