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
The News from Sonnystone Acres 