Why I Love Cemeteries

My love of cemeteries predates my love of letterboxing. I have an old photo of me (which I can't find!) lying in repose on top of one of those above ground vaults in New Orleans, eyes closed, with arms crossed peacefully across my chest. My sense of humor has always been more than a little morbid. I love them for many reasons. Here is one of them:

You turn the corner onto a dead end, drab, boring, even somewhat shabby little street in upstate New York and drive to the end. You turn right into the grounds of the cemetery that you couldn't even see from the street because the entrance area is hidden by trees. In front of you rises a very large hill, covered in grass and old gravestones. You drive up the winding dirt road and find a shady spot to park your car. Then you start to walk up and back.....and back, and back, and back. Hidden from the street is this huge cemetery that just goes on forever. You walk all the way to the back. As you walk you see stones that are so old the dates are no longer visible. You find the 19th century gravestones at the very edge of the cemetery along the treeline and the nearby pile of stones that hides the letterbox.

So many cemeteries are like this, totally hidden and unexpected, full of history and the lives of those that rest there. I think it says something positive about our culture that we have continued to keep these places in our hearts and minds even though some are so old and neglected the stones are toppled over and broken.

The planters and finders are often the only visitors to some of these old places. I'd like to think that the residents welcome our brief and respectful company.