Well, after 12 months of writing, creating, thinking, driving, exploring and picture-taking, I realize that I come to a close of the one year timeline for my book about my experiences of visiting cemeteries. I must say that it has completely changed my life. I've learned things that I might have never learned, and seen things I never knew existed. So much beauty lies in these places, and I don't just mean physical beauty of landscaped grounds...not all cemeteries have those. Sometimes the beauty is in an old tombstone, written in a script from long ago, or written with wording that is no longer common.
So, here I am now, with literally thousands of pictures, hundreds of cemeteries behind me, and challenged to collect it and condense it all into something that I can publish. And though I realize that *this* is my biggest hurdle, I move forward in total anticipation of my own finished product.
The last cemetery I visited left a lasting impression on me. It was one
in my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee, and I was only in town for a
short while one afternoon. My good friend Bob Wilkes had suggested that I visit Pleasant Gardens Cemetery after a
recent
article in the Chattanooga Times Free Press, so I thought I would squeeze it
into my unexpected travel that day. This was an old historical black cemetery that had suffered from a lack of maintenance over the years. This cemetery has some notable burials here, including that of Ed Johnson, who was lynched on the Walnut Street Bridge in 1906, and Andrew and Leroy Wright, two of the Scottsboro Boys. After reading about the rough state of the grounds, and unaware of exactly what I would see or the terrain that awaited me (which I still approach carefully since my partial knee replacement in March), I ventured on.
The heat was excruciating that day, as it has been for much of this southern summer, and I was arriving at a point in the early afternoon sun that almost made me reconsider my decision. But, then I thought about the other visits to cemeteries I've had in rain, and cold, and wind, so this was just another type of weather to endure. Despite my inquisitiveness, I always try to maintain a sense of reverence when I walk through a cemetery. I understand that what is a stroll of curiosity for me is a visit of reflection and emotion for those who stand by the graves of their loved ones. So when I saw a young black woman with her arm linked inside the arm of an elderly black woman entering the cemetery just ahead of me, I stayed back for a moment, wanting to make sure that I didn't disturb their time there.
But, my dear husband Joel, who loves to talk to anyone and everyone and
literally never meets a stranger, began to strike up a conversation with
these ladies. I walked on to the side, thinking they might not be
interested in talking, but I was quite mistaken. They were there in an
attempt to find the graves of some family members, but the cemetery is
in such a state of ruin that it's often difficult to locate a particular
marker. And many graves are unmarked as well, including the grandfather of musician Lionel Richie. But we all walked up
to the memorial marker in this cemetery which gave information about how
it began. Even this monument looks as though it could topple over at
any moment because the pillar has shifted from the base. But we all stood there
together, and attempted to read the words on the monument.
We asked for the last names of the relatives they were looking for, and
did our best to scour the grounds in search of their headstones, but to
no avail. As we walked through the hills and over and around the fallen
brush, we noticed how so many of the stones had fallen over.
The elderly lady was beginning to tire from the heat...which was understandable, because so were the rest of us. But she truly needed to leave and get back to a cooler place. She had actually braved the rough terrain and heat for a good while, and I was a better person for listening to the things she had to say. We said our goodbyes to the ladies, and they began to walk away.
Joel and I walked around for a while after the ladies left, but we were both struggling with the heat and I had given my new knee quite a workout already. We left realizing that this very special place needs more recognition, more attention, and more loving care to be restored for the respect and honor of those who are buried there.
