Gerrould Cemetery

"I would rather sleep in the southern corner of a little country churchyard, than in the tomb of the capulets"

Edmund Burke (Enright, 130)

Gerrould Cemetery

Established 1756

Wrentham, Massachusetts

(Credit: Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

     When we were asked to visit a cemetery for this assignment, my first reaction was not one of excitement, instead I felt incredibly uneasy. I have never been one to visit cemeteries, the thought of all of those bodies left to spend eternity under the earth has always disturbed me. However, I went with an open mind and brought my friend, Jon Raymond, for support.

      Gerrould Cemetery, also known as Great Plain Cemetery, is located on High Street in Wrentham, Massachusetts. It is small in comparison to most burial grounds today, with no more than one-hundred plots present, and plenty of space available for more. It was raining outside as we approached. The melancholy weather only added to the eerie aura of the burial ground. The first thing I noticed about the cemetery was it's age; being established in 1756, it is 255 years old. Nothing but weathered graves inhabit the burial ground; there was no trace of any buildings, not even a mausoleum. The rustic feel of Gerrould was intriguing, and the fear was immediately replaced with fascination.

(Credit: Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

      Many of the graves had engravings which decorated the top section of their front. The carvings had a mysterious feel, some drawings which I assumed were meant to depict humans looked creepily extraterrestrial. One gravestone in particular captured my attention. At first glance, it looks almost as though blood is trickling down the grave. Upon closer examination, I noticed the etching of a figure which appeared to be a mans face. It caused me to wonder the purpose of these adornments. I came to the conclusion that the epitaph's intention was to protect the soul housed in the grave.

Engraved Tombstone (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

     The grounds, while certainly not perfect, are well kept despite its advanced age. Sadly, some people have no respect for the deceased; many of the graves were desecrated, thoughtlessly kicked apart.  I would say that around one quarter of the tombstones were purposefully damaged. One in particular caught my eye. A grave stone had been smashed to pieces, and it seemed that someone had carefully placed it back together. Thomas White was a soldier in the Revolutionary War, Born May 28th, 1748, his life ended on March 28th, 1816. I found it incredible that a man who fought in such a historically important war in America's history was buried a mere two minutes from my house. Yet, somehow a person felt it was okay to violate his final resting place. Upon further investigation, I found that Mr. White was finally given the respect he so rightfully deserved, and some kind people had a brand new grave marker at grass level created in his honor. His was one of only a handful of grass level markers.

Top: Thomas White's Desecrated Grave Site

Bottom: Thomas White's New Grave Marker

(Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

       While I explored the head stones, it became very clear to me that the life expectancy of the eighteenth century was significantly shorter than it is now. The cause of death for a man who died at 57 years old was described as "old age". It is obvious to us now that a man who died so young likely died of unnatural causes, but in the 19th century, people lived much shorter lives. A particularly disturbing grave I came across was the final resting place of a young man named William Fisher. William was a mere 16 years old when he passed away on August 31st, 1882. Such a shame for someone who likely had great potential to die at such a young age, it is evident that medical care was far less advanced than it is in the present time.

William Fisher's Head Stone

It reads:

"God hath early called thee home."

 (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

"Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave."

Sir Thomas Browne (Enright, 124)

     The particular tombstone used at each grave site makes it easy to distinguish between the deceased who were lucky enough to be wealthy during their lives, and the less fortunate. While some are remembered with small, blank slates, others are memorialized with intricate and prominent statues. It seems that these people aspired to outdo their counterparts even in death. There is a family burial spot which stood out among all the rest. The Wilkinson Family had a large stone memorial constructed solely for them. The ground was higher than the neighboring grave sites, and only members of the family were laid to rest in this plot. Outside of their designated area, dozens of far less ostentatious tomb stones signify the final resting places of community members. In the end, whether or not one chooses to erect a grandiose memorial or not, we all share the same fate.
     Upon further investigation, I later found out that Ezra Wilkinson was the Judge of the Superior Court in Dedham, Massachusetts. He graduated from Brown University in 1824. He was certainly a prestigious man in his community.

The Wilkinson Family Burial Plot

(Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

 
     You might think that a cemetery that is well over two-hundred years old would probably have no visitors paying their respects to the souls that long since passed. At least, that was my assumption. Considering the oldest gravesite was erected in 1756, and the most recent as long ago as the 1800s, I was incredibly surprised to find that this was not the case. One of the very first things that my eyes were drawn to as I entered the grounds was a beautiful pink bouquet of flowers placed at a grave site. As I approached the grave, it become all too clear why this woman was still being thought of more than 150 years after her demise in 1857. Caroline passed away on September 13th 1857, from "wounds received at the hand of her husband," the head stone reads. She was only 21 years old. As if that were not enough, just below her name, the stone memorializes Ellen, a 3 month old infant who died January 10, 1836. I could not help but wonder why the two shared a grave site. I thought perhaps that the two might be sisters, but there was no clear evidence to support that theory. It was certainly the saddest sight in the cemetery by far.

Caroline & Ellen's Site

(Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

     A few years ago, I was on a walk when I came across Gerrould Cemetery. When I learned of this assignment, I knew without a doubt that this was the burial ground I would choose to explore. I selected Gerrould because of its age; I felt that it held fascinating secrets just waiting to be discovered. An outsider examining the graves there would determine that Americans during the revolutionary times had a positive outlook on death. Judging by the inscriptions on the graves describing a life after death where you reach heaven, it would appear that they believe in some sort of afterlife. This, along with some of the elaborate grave sites (the Wilkinson family plot), would lead someone to conclude that most Americans have a great respect for the deceased. The broken head stones, however, would paint a different story. Obviously, not all Americas share the same respect for the dead. Although I find the cemetery captivating, I would not choose to be buried here, even if I were allowed to. The cemetery may have an enigmatic charm, but I find its eerie appearance unappealing as my final resting place.

Below I have displayed pictures taken at Gerrould Cemetery by myself, Erica Albert.

Gerrould Cemetery (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Rock Wall & Tree (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Graves (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Sunken Grave (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Graveyard Tree (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Leaning Graves (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Wilkinson Family Plot & Surrounding Graves (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Gerrould Cemetery (Erica Albert, 10/27/11)

Gordon & Norma

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/44960859/ns/us_news-life/t/couple-married-years-dies-holding-hands/?gt1=28135

The Final 24

Taylor Swift Concert 2011

(Photo taken by Kerrie Marolda)

3.9.08

     Brandon and I first met almost five years ago. He was my closest guy friend, Dave's, best friend. We started out as just friends; at the time I was dating someone who would eventually prove himself unfaithful. Brandon proclaimed his feelings for me almost from the start, but I was in no rush to get into a relationship. After denying him twice, he seemingly gave up and pursued someone else. For some reason, this made me extremely jealous. It was then that I knew there was something more between us that I hadn't realized until that moment, it took losing him as a friend to realize I wanted him as my boyfriend. I was sure he would never even want to talk to me again. I am a very traditional person, and I never chase guys, but something told me I needed to act on this feeling. It took all of my courage to text him one night to admit that deep down, I cared for him. To my surprise, he answered back. And the rest is history.
     Brandon and I have been together since March 9, 2008. He's truly my best friend in the entire world, and he knows me better than anyone. We have had our ups and downs over the years, but in the end we always realize we are better together. Why spend time without someone when you know in your heart that all's you want is to have them in your life? He is so incredibly special to me, and I would do anything in the world for him. We have so many hopes and dreams for the future, and it would be a shame to see it end, but I would consider myself extremely lucky to be able to spend my final hours by his side. I love him more than I ever thought I could love anyone. I don't like to think about what would happen if our lives ended, but if I knew we only had 24 hours left to live, I have a pretty good idea of what I'd like to do with him by my side.

     First off, we would wake up bright and early, I wouldn't want to waste any time on our last day. We would have a breakfast fit for a king, and stuff ourselves until we can't eat another bite. We would indulge ourselves with chocolate chip pancakes, Belgian waffles, and scrambled eggs with ham and cheese. After we've had more than our fair share, we would go for a walk in the woods just to talk about everything we've been through in our lives. We'd end up at Trout Pond, and fish for a while as we reminisced on our past. When we grow bored of that, we would go four-wheeling in our jeeps, and probably end up getting a last use out of our dirt bikes. We would ride them all the way Stony Brook in Norfolk, Massachusetts. It's a nature preserve and my favorite place in the entire world. While feeding the goslings and geese that wander the sanctuary, we would unfold a blanket on the ground, and unpack our picnic lunch. He would bring a meal from his favorite restaurant, Taco Bell, while I would choose delicious angel hair pasta and minestrone soup from my favorite place, Olive Garden. We'd watch the clouds float past us, and name the shapes they created as they shape shifted up in the sky. Once we had devoured our mouthwatering lunch, we would catch a plane to Alaska (It would have to be extremely fast so that we don't waste much time). Brandon wants so badly to visit Alaska, and it would be a shame if he didn't get the opportunity to before he died. We would explore the state, reveling in the scenery and the gorgeous wildlife. I'd ski and he'd snowboard in the soft powder. To make things fair, we would take another super fast plane to Africa, which I have dreamed about going since I was a little girl. I've always wanted to see the lions, elephants, zebras, and other animals which call the country their home. Finally, I'd have a chance to view the breathtaking views in Africa, where some of the most beautiful animals in the world reside. A safari through the Savannah would give us a chance to see the amazing animals that roam the land. We would enjoy a delectable steak dinner with wine as the temperature went down. The sun would slowly began to fall, and we we'd realize our time was severely limited. We would watch the sun fade from the horizon, the stunning pink sky turning to a dark blue. Laying in bed curled up with him for the last time, I would be much less afraid of death. He would be going with me, and we'd be in the journey to whatever comes next together. With him, I would have nothing to fear and I could go with a peaceful feeling. I will have no worries. Death may be inevitable, but love is something that cannot be broken by the severing of two lovers lives. It will be all that remains when all else has perished. I would hope that the last twenty-four hours of our lives together would be the best yet.

"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Song: Better Together Artist: Jack Johnson

Link Courtesy of: jamesdiehard's youtube

Mourning, Success, Zen

     "...as I have discovered, passionate grief does not link us with the dead but cuts us off from them."

C. S. Lewis (1898-1963)

(Enright, 114)

     We all mourn those who have passed on in our own ways. While some choose to sulk in sorrow and despair, others celebrate the life the dead lived. Psychologists have pondered the fact that humans seem to have a vital need to find an outlet for their grief (Enright, 102). Different cultures have their own unique rituals to put the dead "to rest" and begin the mourning process. In America's past, wakes and funerals were typically very formal events, even to this day. In stark contrast to America's funeral, the author spoke of a ceremony he attended recently in China. The attendees, who normally are modest and dignified people, wailed during the service (Enright, 101). As the coffin of the widowed wife's husband was lowered beneath the Earth, she acted as though she was going to go in after it. The woman was clearly having difficulty mourning her late husband's passing. C. S. Lewis makes a good point about the way we grieve (see above quote). He means that he has come to the realization that intense disparity attached to grief is not the way to go about remembering one's life. It "cuts us off" from the deceased person's true self.

"The Purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well"

Ralph Waldo Emerson

(Porras, Emery, Thompson, 69)

     Chapter four of Success Built to Last strives to explain how successful people continue on the track of success. It begins with a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson. His words are eye-opening. He does not mean to say that being happy is not an important aspect of life, rather he describes a way of life we all should aspire to, and if we reach his goal, then surely we can be happy along the way. The most prominent people of today are not trying to be incredibly happy all the time, but they make a difference in the world that we live in and their legacies will carry on long after they're gone. I think most people would be content to live such a life, i know i would.

     In order to gain success, one must remember that the money is not the main target; instead, aim to build something for its own sake (Porras, Emery, Thompson, 72). A few people may find that wealth is a worthy goal, but for most successful people this is not the case. A Person's passion should not be mistaken as a trivial pursuit (Porras, Emery, Thomson, 72). Be stubborn, and don't let anyone come between you and your dreams.

     Following Buddha's death, a multitude of schools were established as a means of continuing on his dharma (teaching) (Kramer, 58). Countless teachers relayed to their students one of the key elements of Buddhism, Zen. Zen starts with the complete negation of everything (Kramer, 58). Zen consists of four distinct faces: the sect within Buddhism, the heart of all Buddhism, the true center of all the world's spirituality's, and the zen beyond zen (Kramer, 58). Zen "denies itself"; it is incredibly hard to describe. As Kramer puts it on page 58: "Zen is the sound of one hand clapping, the plop of a bullfrog into a quiet pond, and the direct transmission of heart/mind to heart/mind". There is a "quiet essence" to zen.

   

"While living, be a dead man, be thoroughly dead - and behave as you like, and all's well."

(Kramer, 62)

     Kramer explains that the heart of zen is to commit spiritual suicide, it is one of minimal traditions whose major practice is to live as though you are actually dead. The term used to describe this experience is known as the "Great Death". One must lose all ideas of self in order to achieve this.

Photo Courtesy of Insidesocal.com

Works Cited

Enright, D.J. The Oxford Book of Death. Oxford [Oxfordshire: Oxford UP, 1983. Print.

Kramer, Kenneth Paul. The Sacred Art of Dying.: How World Religions Understand Death. NewYork,  NY [u.a.: Paulist Pr., 1988. Print.

Porras, Jerry L. Stewart, Emery and Mark Thompson. Success Built to Last: Creating a LifeThat            Matters. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Wharton School Pub., 2007. Print.

The House That Built Me

     I have been lucky enough to have never experienced a close one passing in my lifetime. It will, of course, one day occur, but the longer it is delayed the better. However, I certainly have dealt with a few major losses in my lifetime whether it has to do with a friendship coming to an end, a relationship breaking up, or losing an object that had great sentimental value to me.
     In my life, nothing hurt me so much as to see the unraveling of my parents marriage.  I rarely saw my father anymore, who moved two hours away. To make matters worse, my mother's family convinced her to relocate to Florida, dragging me and my brothers along. I left my childhood home, and along with it, my childhood. So I did not lose a person, except for not seeing my father as often, but rather I lost the home I grew up in, an important part of me.
     I lived the first fifteen years of my life in Norfolk, Massachusetts. The house was robin's egg green, before eventually being painted white, with a barn built by my father in the backyard. It was a small cape-style home, on about one acre of land, and it might not seem like much to most people, but to me it means so much. I can still recall so vividly the countless starry nights I spent swimming in the pool, with bats fluttering overhead. Every memory I made in that home seems like a separate lifetime. Since leaving, I have never been able to find a house that felt like my true "home". I have moved six times in the past 5 years, but none of those places felt right. I miss my neighborhood more than anything. My next door neigbors were my cousins, and next to them lived my great grandmother, Gram. Gram owned the woods behind all three of our houses so it was like a little family compound.
     About a half mile down the road you would find my favorite place in the entire world. Stony Brook is a place I would walk to often. I loved to go in the Spring to watch the Geese with their adorable goslings in tow. There is a place there that I will always remember as the best spot in the reservation. Down a walkway is a waterfall leading to a brook that year after year ducks will raise their families. It honestly is such an amazing place. My sister went to Stony Brook after her wedding for pictures, which makes the place that much more special.
     There was never a dull moment growing up there. When I was in 3rd grade I took a baby chicken home from school. Within a few years...one little chick turned into thirty full grown chickens! (We bought more, of course). It was great to have unlimited free eggs all the time.
     Miranda Lambert is one of my favorite country musicians. One of her songs truly touched my heart. Her beautiful song, "The House That Built Me" brings tears to my eyes when I hear it. It reminds me so much of my childhood, and the only house I have ever been able to call my home.

"If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me"

-Miranda Lambert

      I drive by the house often, and when I do I sometimes wish I could knock on the door and take a step inside and recall the memories of my youth. All of the family Christmases, Thanksgivings, Halloweens, I'd like to relive again. I can still smell the scent of the freshly cut grass on a Summer's day just after my mother chugged along on her ride along mower. I would trade anything to be able to go back to those carefree days, to enjoy the decade and a half I spent there all over again. As time presses on, I am reminded that all things must change, and eventually draw to an end.

"The only constant in life, is change"

-Heraclitus

Breathe

"'Cause you can't jump the track,we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button girl,
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe, just breathe,"

-Anna Nalick, "Breathe (2am)"