I wanted to post something for the Fourth of July, but nothing would really come to mind. I was running some errands in Urbana, though, yesterday, and I decided to stop and look around Oak Dale Cemetery. I hoped to maybe find some veterans or something like that I could talk about, but as I was driving around trying to think of something, I was sidetracked by this older part of the cemetery I’ve never really been through before. The stones in this patch were so unique, I decided just to post about them and leave the patriotism implied (Yay, America!). So this is not exactly a Fourth of July post, but today isn’t exactly the Fourth of July, so . . . we’ll live with that, then!

Oak Dale Cemetery isn’t one I’ve posted about before. First of all, don’t confuse it with Oak Grove Cemetery of Kingscreek, Ohio. Oak Dale is actually in the town of Urbana, address 319 Patrick Avenue. It’s a convenient enough drive–if you’re headed south down 68, just turn left at the roundabout onto US 36 and make a right on Patrick Ave. The cemetery is on your left after the Burger King. It was founded in 1856 and is notable as being the burial place of Simon Kenton, among other local legends . . . these include founders and other favorites of my alma mater, Urbana University. Ironically enough, the area I selected for photos today because I had never paid much attention to it is the area spotlighted by Beth of GraveAddiction–you might want to check out her pictures as well. I’ve only picked out five stones to talk about here, so if you want to see the rest, check out the slideshow at Shutterfly.

Anyway, I parked and began to wander around. One thing I love about exploring cemeteries is that while standing there looking at one marker, I’ll see another and be drawn over; from there, I’ll see another, and on and on. By stone-hopping, I can cover so much area and not even realize I’ve done it. These are the stones I hopped from yesterday.

First, that of “Ann O.” She is identified as the “wife of Christopher Michael,” and she died on the 14th of December, 1858, at the age of 84–which means she was probably born on April 12, 1774. The elaborate carving on this stone make it really eye-catching. There is also semi-legible text at the bottom that says she was born somewhere in Frederick Co., MD, and something else that starts “our dear Mother has gone . . .”

From Ann O., I had to check out this bizarre table gravestone. I may or may not have been able to determine that it was the grave of a doctor, but I would’ve advised him that this was a really poor choice of monument. As you can see, it is held up on six legs–well, one has collapsed–and its flat face is full to the elements, which have pretty nearly blasted all the text off. When I was finally standing on the correct side of it, I was able to tell that there were words, but I lacked the patience to attempt reading them. He seems to have had a wife named Rosetta, which makes me laugh–this is the Rosetta stone! O:)

Hardly was I done snapping pictures of them, though, when I saw this peculiar little guy! This odd little pillared house is dedicated to one “Frank Fairchild,” with the inscription “Our Little Frank.” He died on the 19th of some month in 1859, and may have been a year old–there’s an annoying shadow over that bit. The style of the marker, though, is so unique, I was really fascinated and took any number of pictures of it.

Next, what to my wandering eye should appear . . . but a winged angel hanging out pretty near! So I headed over to check her out. This is apparently the stereotypical angel for cemetery markers, and I may one day make a whole collection of all the places I’ve seen her and post them at once. This time she graces the final resting place of one James W. Fulton and his wife Anna.

This last one I actually had to cross the road for but I found it was worth it. This is a very pretty take on the angel headstone motif and I actually find it very sad. Check out the slideshow for the full version; I just picked one angle for here. The tombstone is for Russell Bunnell, who died in 1892 at the age of five. The words written by the angel on the scroll read, “Of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

All in all, a really lovely day at the Urbana cemetery . . . but I can’t even tell you how hot it was! Check out the slideshow, comment, blah-blah-blah, and enjoy your Fourth of July!!

Christmassy George

Today’s post is about one of the most popular monuments in the Green Lawn Cemetery of Columbus, Ohio. It’s not one of my favorites, but it’s been coming up an awful lot for the last couple weeks, so I thought I’d post about him. Let me open ‘er out by quoting an AP article featured in the Columbus Dispatch in December. (Original/complete article can be seen here: http://www.dispatch.com/live/content/local_news/stories/2009/12/23/george.ART_ART_12-23-09_B1_UDG3A4V.html?sid=101)

As a light snow fell yesterday at Green Lawn Cemetery, someone made sure 5-year-old George Blount was dressed warmly. George, who was decked out in a Santa hat and plaid scarf, has been a fixture at Green Lawn since 1873. For years, visitors have decorated his grave site, which is marked by a life-size stone statue of a young boy. No one who works at Green Lawn knows who decorates the grave. Sandi Latimer, volunteer coordinator at the cemetery, said George’s grave is near the back, making it easy for decorators to slip in unnoticed. . . . Latimer affectionately refers to him as “Georgie” and says his grave is a frequently requested stop when she conducts tours of the cemetery. . . . Linda Burkey, the cemetery’s general manager for 13 years, said that as long as she has been there, George’s grave has been decorated. “Out of all the other graves, his is the most decorated,” Latimer said as she removed the hat and scarf. She said she has to remove the items because they can hold in moisture and harm the statue. Yesterday, stuffed animals lined the base of the marker. Water guns, action figures and Hot Wheels cars were scattered around, as well. A fresh candy cane rested in his lap. “I’ve found all kinds of things: Mardi Gras beads, baseball caps — even sunglasses on him in the summertime,” Latimer said. Gary Best, a German Village resident, was there yesterday, walking his dogs, Gabriel and Wheezer. “I think it’s interesting that, after all these years, people still put stuff out there,” he said. “It’s a sad story, and I guess people are just fascinated with that.” Latimer added: “Almost every cemetery has something that plays on the heartstrings of the public. And here, it’s little Georgie.”

 Now, “Georgie” hasn’t been of a lot of interest to your local Headstoners here, for whatever reason. He is buried in a part of Green Lawn we don’t traverse much. The first time we came across him, we didn’t know there was any kind of a story about him. I just remember exclaiming because the statue held an A&W root beer can. The picture on the right here of George with the flowers is one of my favorites, though. This I find tasteful and even pleasant. (I have a long rant at the bottom about people leaving junky stuff on this grave; if you’re likely to be offended by that, please skip over that part and have a great day!) As just a quick side note, I would point out that the Headstoners are not aware of any ghost stories or hauntings in association with this grave stone.

George in the Springtime

 Now, the story of George goes back 137 years–as of this Sunday, actually.

“Little Georgie,” as some refer to him, was the only child of Eli and Sarah Blount. Eli was the owner and proprietor of the American Hotel in downtown Columbus. On 7 February 1873, the family was getting ready to go out and little George, only 5 years old, decided that the fastest way to get downstairs was to slide down the bannister. Sadly, the railing broke and George fell; he died eight days later,

 writes Amy Crow of Amy’s Genealogy, etc., blog. She adds, in a nice touch, I think,  ”People regularly leave toys at his grave. . . . It’s almost as if he’s been adopted by countless people in central Ohio.”

"Our Georgie"

(more…)

So last Thursday was weird. I lost some work in the closing minutes of work and then was deeply distracted and had to lug a big heavy book back to my truck I hadn’t been planning on. So I ended up not feeling like retracing my steps and biking back along the path the way I usually do. I started to drive home, but the weather was so nice, I felt incredibly guilty about it, with the weather so nice and all. So I ended up deciding by the time I got home that I would attempt something I’m not going to do again anytime in the rest of my life.

A really long time ago, back when I was a teenager with energy, a friend of mine and I biked down the road I live on about two miles to a particular intersection. Just a few yards from this intersection is the entrance to one of the cemeteries I pass every day when I go to work. I keep meaning to go in there, and yesterday I thought, “Hey, nice day, it’s only about two miles, I know there’s some hills, but I’ve done it once before, it can’t be that bad.” Ha bloody ha ha. Did I mention I live in the Himalayan Mountains? I didn’t think I did, but now I know better. It took about an hour to go the two or three miles that is because I had to get off and walk about five times from the hills. I was so exhausted when I finally got to the cemetery that I thought someone might as well dig me a hole and put me in it. So appreciate these pictures.

Mt. Caramel Cemetery--The Gate

Mt. Caramel Cemetery--The Gate

 Mt. Caramel Cemetery is associated, I assume, with the Mt. Caramel Friends Church which is located immediately across the street from it. It was established in 1833.

It’s located on CR-130. The nearest settlement is a little burg known as Kennard. To get to the cemetery, say you’re driving north on US-68 (toward Bellefontaine). You’ll want to turn right on Herr Rd. When you reach the intersection of Herr and Clark–conveniently the location of Hell Cemetery–keep going straight. You are now on CR-130. It twists and turns a lot, but stay on it. You will need to turn left on CR-223, which merges with 130 for awhile; turn right on 130 to stay on it (which will briefly turn into Champaign St.) The cemetery is on the right side of the road. Hey, I never said it wasn’t remote. Remember what I said about living in the Himalayas? (more…)

A society that puts equality… ahead of freedom will end up with neither. — Milton Friedman, US economist (1912-2006)

Maybe that quotation doesn’t have much to do with the day’s topic–an ironic statement that will become clear as I go along–but I really liked it and therefore I posted it.

Well, here it is, Friday. Friday, as we know, is cemetery day. I know we’ve been skipping lately, but–I’m lazy. Having noticed the giant spike in views earlier this week, though, has given me a sense of responsibility, and therefore I post. (Bookmark us. Make us your homepage. Come back often. Danke.) Now, I have been contemplating the fact that I drive by three cemeteries on my way to work and I’ve never even gone in one. I’ve been thinking about remedying that fact, but recognizing that we have a backlog still, I decided to come in and do a post on one of the neatest cemeteries we’ve been to. “Neat” is a good word to describe it–it’s tidy, organized, well-kept, and interesting. It’s also fitting to follow the, shall I coint it, “restoration FAIL” of the last post, because here’s a cemetery doing restoration right. I’m talking about . . .

Log-Equal-DSCN1738

EQUALITY CEMETERY, Logan County, Ohio.
Because everybody’s equally dead when they die. (more…)

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