Last Saturday, we went to the
cemetery where my husband’s great grandparents on his father’s side were
buried. A distant genealogy cousin sent me these directions:
“The Fishers are buried at Oak Hill...
They are buried together at the Laurel Lawn part. They told me it was
129E, but we found it at 160E which is up one row.”
Earlier in the week, I Googled Oak
Hill and found the address and phone number.
I called and they said the office would be open Saturday and that we
could pick up a map. We had some other
fun things to do in San Jose, so it was all working out. I got the family interested enough to say, “Yes,
fine, we’ll go to the cemetery.”
Thankfully, even though they aren’t into genealogy, they are in to
morbid Halloween like things, so they seem to be okay with the cemetery aspect
of genealogy. In the car, we discussed
the Fishers that we were off to find and how in reality, Fisher should be our
last name. The kids thought that was
mildly interesting. Until the Spongebob
theme began on Marc’s iPod, anyway.
We got to the cemetery and noticed
at once that it is HUGE. Rolling hills
of graves, fountains and statues. I
parked and Marc and Signa went in to get the map from the office. I gave them my handwritten note: Laurel Lawn, 129E and 160E. They were in there
for about 20 minutes, which is a long time for I Spy in the cemetery with a
six-year-old. “Momma, I spy something
that is red.” “Is it the flowers by the
grave?” “YES!” “Momma, I spy something
that is gray.” “Is it the gravestone?” “YES!”
Repeat.
They came back with a map and it
turns out that Laurel Lawn is a triangular shaped area right where we were
parked. We headed for the areas the lady
had marked off with a highlighter and proceeded to instantly NOT find the
graves.
We wandered separately. Then we wandered together. Then we methodically marched up and down the
rows where they should have been.
Then we noticed gaps where there should
be graves, but instead it was grass.
Then we noticed that the graves were all sunken a bit with the grass
about 2 inches taller and we supposed that the grass had grown over some. We sent the six-year-old to dig. Yep.
Graves under there.
Pretty soon, Marc was full-on
digging up grave stones with his hands. He’d
uncover some letters or numbers and then move on when it wasn’t ours. (isn't this cute!?! my "genealogy is boring" family and they are DIGGING UP GRAVES! and getting very determined to find the missing hidden clue and... OMG... DIGGING UP GRAVES!)
Then I looked at the map. “Didn’t my note say ONE 29 and ONE 60?” This is highlighted for 29 and 60. We walked to the other corner of Laurel Lawn
and the grave was right there. In seconds.
I just asked William if he had fun at
the cemetery. “Yeah, but only if I can
bring a shovel next time.”
What a great day out, Debbie. The ast time I went on a trip to a cemetery looking for dead rellies I only had the length of time a picnic lasted to search, I must get more imaginative aboutinvolving the kids.
ReplyDeleteArm the junior Mascots with cameras and let them take photos of any headstone that interests them. You can upload to Find A Grave later.
ReplyDeleteI had no idea how junior the kiddies are! OMG you have your hands full!