It is not a myth that southern women like to go to cemetaries. I am no exception. The gravestones tell me stories--some romantic, some sad. The history of wars, influenza, immigration, struggles of the depression, and struggles with survival are all told on headstones.
Tinker and I went looking for a particular cemetary and some long gone relatives. We went first to this very nice man's house who was the keeper of the records for the cemetary. He also had a great yard and this wonderful bottle tree.
I am so sorry I have forgotten his name but he was so accommodating. He found the records we needed, gave us a map of the cemetary and then a tour of his garden.
Tinker with map in hand. The setting was so lovely--we should have brought a picnic lunch.
This is my Aunt Billie. I spent many a summer plus two school years with her when Mother was working and going to business school. Aunt Billie was way too young when she died--57 years old--and there are many things I never got to know about her. The main one was 'how did she get the name, Billie?' If there is a relative out there reading this that knows then please let me know.
We also found the graves of two great uncles and my great grandparents on my mother's side.