Cemeteries – The News from Sonnystone Acres

It was a beautiful Memorial Day for our Cemetery Tour last Monday. I had prepared decorations for my Grandmamas this year, lovely yellow rose bouquets with sturdy stands, but neglected the Grandpapas, kind of, because there are always flags everywhere. I stick with the original concept of “Decoration Day” to visit graves and celebrate our ancestors, and since the Veterans have dominated our idea of who is actually buried in these places, I especially wanted to commemorate the lives of all the Women who have come before me.

So we set out, stopping first at Lick Prairie Cemetery, where my 3x great-grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Mayne, is buried. B.F. was not a veteran and the lady who is buried with him is not my grandmother, but is his fourth wife (he outlived them all), but I was going to leave her a bouquet. The Mayne Family Plot, stretching a couple of rows along the front, also has most of B.F.’s sons and daughters, the oldest grave from around 1898. As I strolled along the immaculate graveyard, I remembered that B.F.’s third wife, Frances, the grandmother who actually raised his children after their mothers’ deaths, was buried up in the Old Lancaster Cemetery. With all due respect to Phoebe, Frances deserved my Grandmother Bouquet.

So Off we drove, about 3 miles down the road, to visit a grave I hadn’t seen in decades and offer up a token of my appreciation for being such a Strong Woman. Alas! The Old Lancaster Cemetery is 7/8 illegible stones. This is why I want my ashes spread; the Living just can’t keep up with the Dead.

Casey and I both have enjoyed restoring stones for our family in Ohio and down at the Marion Cemetery (which we visited next). The job at Lancaster is overwhelming, and we don’t even know where our people are actually buried. However, we will be giving it some thought. In the meantime, we said some prayers over all the pioneers buried there, then tooled on down to pay our respects to our other grands.

Parkersburg, Oak Hill Cemetery, grave of Joseph and Mary Kinkade

The next day when we arrived for our appointment at the car dealership, I didn’t realize that it would be the last time that I drove Silvia, our 2010 Dodge Caravan. We have never traded in a vehicle before, always able to get a decent price by selling it ourselves, but this one needed brake work before I could pass it on in good conscience, so…

We bought this relic 145,000 miles ago, and her first trip was to NYC to get 5-year-old Emma for a month-long visit with us. I’d been driving a Mustang convertible and the growing number of grandchildren being born convinced me I needed more passenger room. So it was that she became the Camp Sonnystone Bus and our main travel vehicle. She served us well, though her long-distance travel days were sidelined by the travel trailer and Goldie. After we sold Goldie, we still took her on down to Disney and up to Chicago, but she was on her last legs, using oil and doing some wheezing. Still, I was sad to see her go.

My new car is an actual car and I’m still adjusting. Her name is Patsy and she is sleek, slim, and showing off a sunroof, leather seats, and all that computer hoop-la in cars these days. I haven’t driven it much, yet, but we’ll be taking her down to Disney in a couple of weeks and I’ll fill you in on the details.

We finished up the garden, planting green beans and zinnias just two days ago. Rains have been intermittent and really perfect for spring watering.

This spell of relaxation, when my work is done and it’s now the work of the plants to grow and fruit, is one of my favorite times of the year. Sitting on the front-porch swing or being very quiet around the firepit, it’s a perfect time to reflect on the breathtaking beauty of nature and our place in it.

Hope you’re untroubled in your neck of the woods.

Peace

We made our cemetery rounds on Wednesday, or I should call it Windsday since the gusts were intermittently 20mph. Placing the saddle on Grandma and Grandpa Eaton’s grave was a challenge, but Casey got it held down with wire and we figure if it didn’t blow off on a day like that, it was set to last. It’s the thought that counts, right?

We wandered around the cemetery in Albion looking for Grandmother and Grandad’s marker, even though I visit it every year. These folks, especially Grandmother, were so influential in my life. They were my great-grandparents and I was so blessed to know them. The font on their gravestone is so unique. I wonder who chose it, and if it means anything.

Since we were walking the property, we looked for my Aunt Thelma and Uncle Aub, but couldn’t find them, so we cruised up to Marion Church Cemetery to check on our grave-cleaning.

I am thrilled and more to see how well the wet-and-forget had worked. These two graves of Chester and Herbert, my great-great uncles who died quite young, had been black with age and look at them now!

I am fascinated by the inscription on the side of Herbert’s stone and want to go back with etching paper and see if I can read it. Herbert’s marker has a book open on a bookstand-like thing on the opposite side, so I wonder if he was a bookworm, like me. He died at 14 of fever.

Back in my youngster days, we called it Decoration Day and it was the 31st of May, whatever day that happened to land on. I have fond memories of my family – Mom, Dad, Brother, and Sister – meeting up with the Albion Maynes – Grandmother, Aunts Ruth and Bernie, and Uncle Harry – and hitting up the old graveyards in the area. I’d get to ride in Aunt Ruth’s Oldsmobile and we would glide all the way up to Parkersburg, then down the gravel roads, and around the loop that I still take every year to decorate. There was a story to go with every grave except one, and that was my grandfather, my Dad’s Dad. I remember one year seeing Grandmother standing at his stone, crying, and I felt very sad, but everyone just looked away uncomfortably.

It was a serious “We don’t talk about Bruno” situation. I got as much info as I could about him from Dad and Bernie before they died, and when I researched him, I discovered that there just wasn’t much good to say about him – he died at 43 after abusing alcohol, drugs, and all the people who loved him. But for one brief, shining moment, he was “that funny comedian, Bobby Mayne”, headlining for traveling vaudeville shows, an actor, a musician who could play every instrument, and the fans followed him, loved his shtick and admired his talents. He married a beautiful girl, had a baby boy, and then blew it all…

This year, I decorated his grave for the first time. He didn’t actually fight in WWI (that’s another story), but he was a Star, a handsome, talented Star of the Stage and we shouldn’t forget that. I think it fits him well…

I still need to go out to my Mom and Dad’s Mausoleum and switch out their bouquet. I like that I don’t have to worry about wind and rain on my decorations with them. I’m out there four times a year, changing with the seasons, just like my Mama taught me.

Have a Great Holiday!

Peace

Tag: Cemeteries

The Week that Was

Decoration Day

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