Summers at the cottage
When the boys were little we used to rent a cottage up in northern Ontario every summer. We would enjoy our adventures up a gravel road, over the rusty bridge, and across to the century old graveyard.
The white, well worn church was still open to friends like us, but was no longer in regular service on Sundays. Not for some time.
The singing, the preaching and the gossip
The door was creaky and heavy. Inside was dark except for the of streams of sun beams from four cobwebbed windows.
It smelled musty and old and we always tried to imagine this tiny church on a Sunday morning, many years ago. The chatter, the singing, the gossip and the teachings of God. A big old wood stove stood in the corner by the organ, taking up way too much room.
We signed the guestbook as so many others did before us.
Outside it was different. The sky was bright and the air was fragrant of sweet, fresh-cut grass. How lovely that the grounds were still being maintained. Barn swallows swooped overhead and a muffled crashing of a distant waterfall could barely be heard.
The grave stones leaned this way and that, shifted by the earth over the years. Most were worn and mossy but a couple were new. And a bouquet of wilted flowers rested upon a mound of newly dug earth.
We had walked through that graveyard before. With the help of our imagination, we tried to piece together the lives of these families that now rest in peace. Families rested together – some with spouses, some with siblings, some with children.
We followed their names to trace who was related and wondered how they were woven together and what their lives had been like up here in Northern Ontario, so long ago.
Crayons never lie
We had friends with us that day and we were armed with large sheets of paper and crayons of every colour. We were hoping to capture the story of some of the gravestones that could no longer be read, having been worn down by the elements. Crayons never lie.
We held the paper over the gravestone while the children coloured it lightly revealing the secret messages of relief.
No more history lessons
I remember doing this when I was in elementary school. It was never morbid. It was just part of our history, discovering one person at a time. My friend who is a teacher said they had to stop doing this field trip in school. Some parents thought it was disrespectful and made a fuss.
Too bad, really.
Having been to two funerals this past month, I reflected on this adventure at the old white church when my kids were little.
While some people might be appalled at bringing crayons out the cemetery, I hoped that the folks resting in peace would rather like the idea of children exploring and laughing and learning and caring enough to stop and think of them and their life. As part of their own history.
One person at a time.
Interesting post. I think it’s important for the next generations to interact with the past. Unfortunately, too many activities are being deemed unseemly and removed from the education system. I’d argue that we’re becoming too sensitive and sheltering children.
Wow you really managed to “take me” to the same place that you visited and it was a pleasant trip! I’ve never done the that activity before, but it seems so innocent and as smurphy03 mentioned above, it is important for the next generations to interact with the past. I also agree that sometimes we can become too sensitive in trying to protect children, but in many other ways we could be denying them simple lessons about everyday life.
I feel the same. I think they’d appreciate people discovering who they were, wondering what their lives were like. Why leave a marker if not for people to see, remember, or ask questions about the person who it commemorates?
I remember well visiting the cemetery on King St. near Battlefield Park on a day trip in grade 8, and doing gravestone rubbings. Old gravestones and cemeteries still fascinate me because of the history, though I rarely stop these days. There are so many, especially in small towns. Hamilton Cemetery is supposed to be an interesting place too – I believe there are tours (?)
They have cemetery tours all over. I must try one some day. I wonder how we rate getting on the tour after we pass? Maybe by doing something scandalous!