That's the taphophile talking

It's well known by my readers that I am a taphophile: One who enjoys wandering amongst the tombs.

A tombstone tourist, as it were. Edgar Allan Poe was a taphophile too. So if you're known by the company you keep, I am okay with that.

While in Atlanta last June to treat Dagny to the Georgia Aquarium for her fourth birthday, we swung by the St. James Episcopal Cemetery to pay our respects at the small grave of JonBenét Ramsey, who, had she not been murdered on Christmas Day at the age of six, would have turned twenty-eight exactly one month ago today.

I've visited JonBenét's poignant resting place before. It is tucked out of the way near the back fence of a small jewel of a historic cemetery in Marietta, Georgia, down the block from the church that lends it its name.

JonBenét rests near the graves of her mother Patsy, who died of cancer in 2006 at the age of forty-nine; her maternal grandmother, Nedra Paugh, who passed away in 2001 at the age of sixty-eight; and her half sister, Elizabeth, who perished in an automobile accident in 1992 at the age of twenty-two.

I find it interesting that John Ramsey's first wife's maiden name was Pasch and his second wife's maiden name was Paugh.

Pasch and Paugh. Add an LLC and it sounds like a law firm.

Mr. Ramsey moved on from the multiple tragedies and has yet another new missus, name of Jan Rousseaux Ramsey. So there's that.

At any rate, after standing near JonBenét's resting place and pondering once more the profound sadness of her short life and mysterious violent death, I allowed myself to wander toward graves nearby that I saw and photographed several years ago, the first time I came to see the infamous Ramsey family graves.

Many graves in this cemetery date to the nineteenth century. One such is an elaborate and touching monument to a young mother who apparently left this earth in the company of two of her children.

The statue is corroding and damaged, which makes me like it all the more.

Several graves are sinking into the earth, certain to disappear if time marches on as we know that it will.

One lady's name suggests that she may have been quite fragrant, as though she lived above a restaurant serving ethnic cuisine. She also died on her eighty-fifth birthday, a statistic I often look for (not the eighty-five part but the same-day-going-as-coming part) when graving, and always photograph when I find it.

I can't remember if I told you about it before, but this is the cemetery in which one gentleman's grave is covered with a legder -- a stone or granite marker that covers the entire grave.

Ledgers are generally elaborately carved with writing, dates, symbols, plaques, and even pictures, but this one is unique for being completely blank.

That is, except for one line at the very bottom:

Because your father never could grow grass.

The pithy line is "signed" and dated by the man's wife, who, according to her own nearby grave, passed away shortly after the date given.

You never know what you may find in a cemetery. Graves and their markers will surprise and delight you; they will make you smile, think, marvel, discuss, connect, recoil, and sometimes even shed a tear.

As was true the first time I visited the cemetery where the remains of JonBenét Ramsey are interred, I left with a strong sense of reluctance.

It never fails to occur to me as I drive away from such places that whereas I am free -- until the grim reaper nods in my direction -- to go about my day and my life, they must stay put. 

The young, the old. Through cold, heat, rain, wind, ice, snow, light both harsh and soft, all the sunrises, all the sunsets, each dawning, each twilight, all the dark of all the nights, until the resurrection of the dead who died in Christ, as described promised in First Thessalonians chapter Four:

For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

And that is all for now.

=0=0=0=

Happy Thursday

Comments

[sally]

I'm one of those also, Jenny. You know tap-okay, graver. I always have found cemeteries so interesting. That poor little girl; ironic how she and my grandson were born within months apart and both gone now.

I had no idea that her dad had remarried, but then I guess I wouldn't necessarily know. Didn't her brother pass? Or, did I read somewhere that at one point he was thought to have possibly been involved. Nor did I know they had an older sister.

I always enjoy your wonderful photos.

xoxo

[Jennifer]

@Sally ... yes my friend, graver will do. Taphophile is a mouthful. Burke, the little brother, is alive and well and has been cleared of all suspicion of involvement in JonBenét's death. It's a tragic mystery. What fun you and I would have tramping around a cemetery together. When I get down to St. Augustine, I promise we'll do that. Chad and Erica were there on their honeymoon in May and reported that the most interesting (read: oldest) graveyards are under lock and key, not accessible to the public. Understandable but still disappointing. xoxo

[Sally]

I sure did not know that about the oldest cemetery in st. Augustine, Jenny! I hope you do come down I would love to see you. I'm also glad to know about JonBenet Ramsey's brother. Thank you! XOXO

[Jennifer]

@Sally ... I meant the oldest, most historic graveyards in general in St. Augustine, Erica said she and Chad found locked and people not allowed to walk in. I think it's for the protection of the markers and preservation of historic things. I hope to investigate in person someday soon! xoxo

[Mari]

I too find cemeteries so interesting! You have more history in yours down there then we do though!

[Jennifer]

@Mari ... you should visit Mouth Cemetery in Montague, Muskegon County, Michigan. It's not too far from your house. Take your camera and show me what you see! xoxo