An over-committed weekend...

When I made this year's resolution to have at least one blog post per week for 2014, I thought that between the books on the list and the minutiae of my life, I would have no difficulty coming up with post topics. If nothing else, I could always ponder some deep thoughts that no one else would have any interest in reading. Fortunately, this past week was chocked full of story-worthy events.

Ready for action

The first story began last week during a routine visit to the dentist. I mentioned to the hygienist that I had noticed something that felt like a blister on my gums. Upon examining it, she proclaimed that I had an abscess. Since the infection was located near some teeth that had already been tagged as having to eventually be removed, the decision was made to go ahead and take them out. Unfortunately, after four painful attempts, the dentist could not get me numb enough to actually extract the teeth, so I was sent home with an antibiotic prescription in hand and a return appointment the following week. Fast forward seven days and it was like Ground Hog Day. After four more attempts and a sparking nerve, I now have an appointment to see an oral surgeon. I guess those two teeth were determined to accompany me on vacation at the end of month.

Friday night, my dear friends Cathy and Arjay hosted an "Opening Ceremonies, Ceremony" party in honor of the Winter Olympics. The invitation was to choose a country and bring a dish representative of your country. Somewhere I got the ideas that this was a costume party, so while the Chipotle Lime Chicken Thighs with Jamaican Rice was finishing up, I put together my costume. In honor of Bob Marley's Birthday, I was going dressed as the Jamaican Bob (Marley) Sled Team. And you guessed it - I was the only one in a silly costume. Regardless, the party was great fun. There was Borscht, Swedish Meatballs, Cheeses, Sausages, Potato Skins, and Toblerone accompanied by White Russians and Arjay's delicious homemade Beer.  Based on the tiny little headache I had all day Saturday, I think it is safe to declare the party a great success.

Staging Area

But a tiny little nagging headache was not going to keep me down - especially since my most politically active friend, Clodagh, had extracted a commitment from me to attend the Moral March on Raleigh to protest recent laws passed by our legislature. After a hearty breakfast at Big Ed's, which has probably never had that many liberals dining at one time, we headed to the march's staging area. We were surprised to see people with signs lined up in front of my condo, which is three blocks from the staging area. However, once we arrived on Wilmington St, it was pretty obvious that the staging area was not large enough to accommodate the attendees.

While the only unifying aspect of the protest was last year's legislative agenda, it was quite refreshing to see people showing up on a cold winter day to stand for their beliefs. The event was well-organized, ran smoothly, and exceeded all expectations for attendance. The original permit request was for 20,000 people. Estimates on actual attendance are around 80,000.

As free-lance protestors we were able to navigate through the crowds and close to the stage. The red arrow points to where we were standing.

After the protest march, I attended a will writing seminar then celebrated my niece's 19th birthday with the family.

Thank goodness for Sundays. I am exhausted.

Touching the Past

My father, Jim, is the family historian. As the proud owner of a flip phone so old the numbers are wearing off the buttons, he is not one to be on the ragged, bloody edge of technology. And yet, when he sits down at his laptop and opens up Ancestry.com, he can navigate the hidden currents of time with amazing ease. It just goes to show, if you have an interest in something, you will make the effort to learn ways to explore it. Now, if I could only convince him have an interest in getting a smart phone.....

Last summer, Dad mentioned he had located and visited an ancestral burial plot about an hour north of Raleigh. He said the plot was on private property and was a bit neglected and overgrown. He asked if I could help him clean it up and of course I said yes. And that was that. In the coming months, he would mention it again and my response was always "Sure, just let me know in advance when you want to do it." 

Well two weeks ago, I got the call. Dad got permission from the landowner, Mr. Higgs, and I updated my calendar to block out the time on February 1 for a grave cleaning day. When the morning arrived, we had a quick country style breakfast at Big Ed's then headed north. We were fortunate that the weather was perfect for strenuous work and I was eager to get started.

Of course, my romantic notion of an ancestral burial plot is a hilltop plot, surrounded by old stone work and Gothic wrought iron fencing with perhaps a few crows sitting on the gate. Obviously my romantic notions are more informed by old movies that real life. In my imagination, I thought we would spend the day digging out some weed trees, mowing the grass, raking some leaves, and having a lovely day in the sun. What I did not expect was a few barely marked graves in the woods next to a field. Only two of the graves were clearly marked. Others had a rock as a headstone and another rock marking the foot of the grave. Several others were completely unmarked and were identifiable only as rectangular depressions in the ground.

My first view of the burial plot

Over the years the forest has taken over the plot. Trees have grown between and around the graves. A large tree, having been blown over many years ago, now has its roots upthrust in the entrance while its trunk molders across the plot. Our work was cut out for us.

With grubbing hoes, pruning sheers, a chain saw, wheel barrow, and rakes we went to work. The landowner, Mr. Higgs, joined our efforts for a few hours. By the end of the day, we had removed the dead tree and it roots, cut down and removed five other trees, raked the entire area, mapped the graves, and paid our respects.

My Dad, Jim, and Mr Higgs working to remove the fallen tree.

 

Glenda Bell Smith Hunt

Within the plot, we found 18 grave sites we could clearly see. The most prominent site was for Glenda Bell Smith Hunt, my Great Grandmother, who in her short life had 10 children, one of which is buried next to her. In the same plot, in unmarked graves are my Great Great Grandparents, approximately five other child graves, and eight graves marked only with field stones. I asked my Dad why Bell's grave was so prominently marked while the others were nearly invisible. He told me that many years after her death, my Grandfather and his brothers all chipped in to buy a marker for her grave. My dad hopes to one day also add a marker to the site as a memorial for all of those buried there.

Once we raked the area, we could clearly see the stones marking the location of grave sites

It was a tough day out in the woods for this city boy. But, in addition to the lifting, dragging, digging, and raking, my Dad shared stories told to him by my Grandfather. He also told me some of the history he has discovered about the area. These are the things I will remember. As a story teller, I get lost in all the dates and names. For me, it is the stories and events that I remember. Now I feel I have just a bit more of a connection to my history. So next time Dad starts a conversation with, "I found some information about your Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, (pause) Great Grandfather...." I will at least be able to connect this day with two of those Greats.

The result of our efforts

Thanks to Mr Higgs for allowing us onto his property and for his assistance. And a big thanks to my Dad for dragging me out into the wilderness to touch a part of our family history. It is a day I will always remember.    

Selfie in the woods