Visiting The Dead (People)
And their magnificent (living) trees
It was so quiet. In every direction, the rolling hills were studded with stone. The entrance was grand and curiously pagoda-like in structure.
The day was already heating up and any hopes that being up among all these spreading, beautiful trees would mitigate that heat were vaporating. Still, the glories of Woodlawn Cemetery were too enticing to consider getting back on the 4 train and going home.
In the newer parts of the cemetery, the stones stood in obedient lines. Some were larger, fancier but most were small and stayed close to the ground. The grass was lush to the point of being short hay while there weren’t many trees in these sections.
There were a number of freshly covered graves without stones. Taking photos of those seemed wrong while not taking photos also seemed wrong. Everything else, however, was fair game and in all directions there were stunning examples of “funerary art” and glorious, thriving, majestic trees.
Every season requires visits to the botanical gardens — Brooklyn and Bronx — but who knew a vast and incredibly well-maintained arboretum also included memorials to over 300,000 dead people? And not just any dead people, btw.
New York City’s cemeteries boast as many celebrities as its streets and penthouses. The map obtained at the entrance proved somewhat helpful in tracking down several luminaries’ final resting places.
After a while, however, it was enough to simply wander among the silent reminders of lives past. Curiosities abounded. The 19th century was brutal to little children as the many small, sad angels attested.
Occasional mysteries presented themselves. Some stones only included one date with no indication if it was the birth or death date. One must assume that Ruby isn’t still alive…or is she? There’s a story there! The question, however, is whether Ruby is there.
The architecture, the mausoleums, the memorials, the art. All stunning. Amazing and touching and heartbreaking at times. Mute and beyond time, the silent stone mourners hold their places even after the last rememberers of the dead are also dead.
And surrounding, softening, guarding, and in some cases supporting the memorials and angels were the trees. Ancient and soaring, casting wide shelters of welcome shade in the heat of the day. At times the trees were more astonishing than the most delicately carved sculptures. The dance of stone and wood needs no permission from the living.
Death to the mourners and sculptors of the 19th century was solemn and demanded respect. This begins to change for the dead of the 20th and 21st centuries. Unique personalities appear. Even joyous bursts of lives past get into the swing of things. We begin to see the faces of the more newly dead and hear from those who loved them.
And then there are the Masons. Oh, the many, many, many Masons. Throughout the many decades, from the staid and proper to the ever-so-slightly ostentatious, we have the Masons.
Six miles later, sunburnt and exhausted, we understood we would be back having only barely skimmed the surface of this sacred and special place.
As we begin to come to terms with the confines of a pandemic that is not going to simply disappear, we are more grateful than ever to live in a place where we can spend the rest of our lives traveling, discovering, and experiencing the unexpected. Woodlawn Cemetery promises to be exactly that kind of destination.
© Remington Write 2021. All Rights Reserved.
Here’s my partner in life and art’s take on our day at Woodlawn Cemetery:
