A visit

What I ended up doing this afternoon, besides doing a couple of errands, was visit a cemetery.  (I’ll spare both of you my cemetery jokes.)  Feeling weary and worn and pointless and blah as I am, it was a good thing to do.

I’ve done this on purpose a couple other times—you know, just wandering among the graves, thinking about the years this person lived or that person died, whether I knew the family or not.  This sounds weird, but I figure a few of you will know what I mean.  There was a delightful little cemetery over near Short Tract, New York, and I knew a couple family names in the area.  There was a beautiful, large one with a western view of some grand peaks in Wyoming.  Today, not quite so scenic, but a little more purposeful.

It was actually serendipitous.  I was driving, and there it was—the cemetery that houses two of my grandparents’ bodies.  Plus, I had read only a week or two ago that this same lawn also houses the bodies of one of the founders of the nearby university.  So I stopped.  I wandered.  I noticed some other names I know.

Pryor.
White.
Dykes.
Walker.
Berryhill (4 of ’em) and Mattox.

Then I found the Armstrongs.  J.N. Armstrong was the first Harding president (and son-in-law of James A. Harding, for whom the school was named).
And, next to them, the Searses.  (Yes, that’s the correct plural.)  L.C. Sears was a well-respected academic dean and professor.  Plus, he married the Armstrongs’ daughter.

Finally, I found my grandparents’ graves.  It had been a few years.

Remembering other lives puts things in a little better perspective sometimes.

B. Casey, Feb. 6, 2016

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