And you thought you had a hard life

Being a detailed analytic person is both a blessing and a curse when tracing a family tree. I’ve mentioned before that of late I’m extending the family tree not just back to direct ancestors across and down at each generation as far as I can to uncover the various aunts uncles and cousins in each generation. Part of this research usually results in finding various details about lives that jump out until a story to me. Usually the stories are tragic. I recently hit one that just struck me as being exceedingly sad.

I was working on the descendents of one particular 5^th great uncle on the paternal side and hit upon a fourth cousin twice removed whose data nearly broke my heart. Every detail I uncovered made the story all the sadder.

The first thing that jumped out was that she died tragically young. Just twenty-five years old. That alone would tell sad tale. But there was more.

The second thing I noticed was that she left a son behind a mere 4 years old at her death. But the tragic details kept coming.

I then noticed that she lost a child who did not even live long enough to be named. Even the child's sex was not recorded. It was merely noted as "Infant". But still there was more.

She had died a scant eight days after giving birth to that second child, a child who would survive her only fourteen more days.

It is a fairly common practice for a mother and child who die in close proximity to each other to be buried together. Unfortunately given the two-week gap between their passings almost certainly meant that they were buried separately, though in the same family cemetery. This is one of the cemeteries I sought to locate and better document recently but was unsuccessful due to the difficulty in accessing it. So I do not know if there are even markers for the graves there. What little is recorded states that there is an iron fence surrounding the cemetery, but there are no photographs or notation of headstones.

On one side of the tragedy we have two most untimely deaths. On the other we have two survivors-the husband and the firstborn child. Even this side of the story doesn’t exactly end well.

At the time of the two passings the couple and their child were living with her parents (my third cousin three times removed and his wife). This was in 1906. The 1910 census shows the father and son still living with his in-laws. By the 1920 census the widower had remarried (around 1917) and fathered two more daughters. The entire family was now living with his parents. The daughters appeared in the census as nine months and two years ten months respectively.

But history was to repeat itself all too soon. He died in 1928 leaving the son technically orphaned (both biological parents having died) but mercifully an adult in his mid-20s. The two daughters were left with her mother both being under the age of ten.

The family was not even to be reunited in death. Aside from the mother and daughter being buried in the same family cemetery, the remaining family were interred in separate cemeteries.

In an odd coincidence the father was to be buried in a church cemetery a relative few miles from his distant cousins living near and buried in the Smith Family/Wolfskin cemetery I have mentioned in previous entries.

I still have work to do to complete the research on this family unit. But even this much of the story reinforces my desire to inspect, document, and photograph that family cemetery that eluded me in my first attempt. If I find that there are no markers then that will simply be the capstone on the list of tragedies in their story.

And sometimes you get the bear

Back in the summer I described a failed expedition in search for a distant relative's grave. How I abused my body with a protracted hike through briars, brambles, bushes, and bugs in oppressive heat and humidity without finding so much as a fieldstone marked grave. Never mind the large monuments evidently in place based on the photographs other prior trekkers have shared.

Well, today I found myself near that site with some time to spare,  and with cooler temperatures and a description of the actual location from someone who has been there. And determination. Let's not forget how much I LOATHE failure. That loathing is a major motivating factor for me.

Determined, I forged off into the (greatly reduced) bush. Following the directions given by the last visitor I could locate, I proceeded, keeping my eyes peeled, constantly scanning left and right, close and as far into the trees as was visible while avoiding spiderwebs and anything that would cause me to trip and face plant.

Evidently my ability to estimate distances isn't as stellar as I thought. Or the instructions were ... off.

What was supposed to be about 300 yards rapidly became closer to a quarter mile! I began to question my sanity and judgement.

But lo! What is that off to the right? Clearly that is at least two False Tombs I spy! And a couple of headstones! Jackpot! But which cemetery will this turn out to be?

Have smartphone. Will travel.

Searching for the first name and date I can make out I find it to be the North cemetery. Drat! The XY cousin ( X cousin Y times removed) for whose grave I originally set out to locate is recorded in the South Cemetery. I GPS tag all the marked graves that can be identified, and even enter memorial in Find A Grave for a headstone I find there for someone not listed as a burial in that cemetery! Aren't I all helpful like?

But this means I still have to find the South cemetery. Once more into that breach! Orienting myself due south I set forth to locate the second cemetery. At least there appear, based on the FAG photos, a few large monuments in white marble that should be visible at a distance to guide me in.

About 75 yards off in a generally southerly direction I spot white where white ought not be. Closing in I see obvious markers. Jackpot #2!

What I find is both interesting and disturbing. Interesting in that there are some seriously impressive monuments and stone work here. Disturbing in that there is a lot of damage to the site. Broken and scattered stones, a false tomb, collapsed graves... I hate that and wish I had the fiscal ability to address it.

I must say, though, that this place has some of the thickest headstones I have ever seen! Not the modern 'family' headstones, mind you, but individual stones. Normally one would expect to see an individual upright stone anywhere from one to maybe three inches thick. These suckers are more like eight or nine inches thick.And about four feet remaining ABOVE ground. I shudder to think how much these things weigh.

Again, photos and GPS tagging are quickly completed. I notice a familiar name as I search the site for the listed graves and one name stands out. The same name for the memorial I just created in the North cemetery. Obviously someone erred in the past when it was entered. Had I been more on the ball I would have noticed and not created a duplicate memorial.

Oh well. One more edit to submit to FAG. Along with the obvious duplicate entry for Susan in the South Cemetery. Same name and birth/death dates? Yup. Duplicate.

Oh, and don't forget to submit the requests to update the GPS coordinates for the two cemeteries themselves. That way anyone else who tries to find them will have a MUCH easier time than I did.

Another item checked off the list. And that sensation of failure erased.

Why did all my ancestors live so far away?

Br'er had to travel a distance recently to attend services for his last paternal uncle. Of all the brothers, only Poppa Br'er is left.

Would you believe that Br'er could not locate the cemetery in order to attend graveside service for the family? Rather embarrassing to say!

But always looking to turn things to something positive, he took the opportunity make a first time visit to the graves of two of his 5th GG Parents. Ancestors it must be said that he did not know the names of until recently. A clue or two that came from a most unexpected source enabled Br'er to push back that branch of his family tree another generation. Possibly two, though that second generation remains more speculation than fact at this point.

It must be said that this family cemetery is outstanding. Out standing in a hayfield, that is!

If you ever find yourself driving in the far rural countryside and see a copse of trees and brush in the middle of an otherwise cleared field then chances are good that either there are graves there, or a building once stood on the spot and no one has ever bother to clear and plant it. As the adage goes, "It's mighty hard to get straighten up once you start plowing your furrows crooked." Or put another way, inertia is a cruel mistress and habits are hard to break.

Now you must understand that Br'er is NOT dressed for the occasion. Having come directly from his uncle's service, he remains in his suit. Not what one would normally don to traipse about headstones, and especially not what one chooses to march several hundred yards across a hayfield! And doubly especially not in the 90+ degree temps that day! A body broke out in a profuse sweat simply sitting in the shade. Any exertion whatsoever only made things worse.

But Fate is often kind on fools. There was a service path from the road far back into the field and the hay was cut relatively recently so access to the graves was almost as easy as it would have been were they in a churchyard!

Looking about it is obvious that this was once a fancy - dare I say hoity-toity? - family cemetery. The remains of concrete pillars with large metal pipes still border all sides of the site which measures approximately 90 to 100 feet per side. Many of these are severely damaged and much of the perimeter tubing between the posts has been removed and lost. Still, it had to have made quite the visual impression when first erected around two centuries ago.

Find A Grave lists only 9 actual interments in the cemetery. Of these only two do not have markers. However one need only cast a casual glace to see that there are clearly many, many more graves. The fieldstones in neat, orderly, evenly spaced rows and columns make it clear that there are upwards of another three dozen graves there. County Historical Society records for the cemetery list the marked graves and "and approximately 30 additional unmarked graves". There is no way of telling who these might be.

Enclosing the marked graves are fences of ornate cast iron that remain striking and in good shape, considering their age. All the markers save one are flat headstones. The exception is an woman's monument constructed of a plinth and obleskisk standing between 15 and 20 feet tall. Clearly her husband wanted her remembered!

The odd thing is that the only words carved on it are abutting directly with the cast iron fencing making it virtually impossible to read.

The headstones are well made and still readable.

It would be most interesting to apply some biologic cleaner to these and see how much of the accumulated years' discoloration can be safely stripped away.

And is it me, or does it look like the same person carved every one of these stones?

Leaving from there what does Br'er spy but an old church cemetery less than a mile down the road replete with obviously old monuments in it. Stopping for just a minute was a moral imperative!

And wouldn't you know it? There are names from one of Br'er's lines! He updates these with GPS locations and makes note of the cemetery so's he can research any possible connections from the comforts of the AC in his hutch.

Update: Since posting the above, I have done further research and, painfully, learned that I am absolutely NOT related to anyone in this cemetery.

Feck!

Back to the drawing board.

Proof that Intelligence and Wisdom are not synonymous

Get a lovely beverage and settle into a comfy seat - This is a long one!

Old B'rer has papers that claim he is a brighter than average bunny (if ever there is convincing proof of the fallibility of standardized testing, this is it). That doesn't mean he has one whit of good judgement. As will become evident all too soon.

There is a truism in the military that no plan ever survives contact with the enemy. The moment two forces meet all the detailed plans go immediately to Hell. They do not pass Go. Nor do they collect $200. Generally speaking the objectives and, to a lesser extent, the strategy remain mostly intact.

Never to be outdone, or perhaps to set a new bar, the Plan for this weekend did not even survive to the weekend.

With six planned participants expected for the first Great Alabama Cemetery and Graveyard Road Trip, the plan was to use the Old Folks (B'rer's parents) van so that we could all be in a single vehicle. That plan ceased to be under consideration the previous Saturday morning when Poppa B'rer made an ill-advised left into the path of an oncoming vehicle.

He is fine apart from a couple of abrasions and contusion to his forearms.

But put jam on it because the van is toast.

Plan B was to pick up an inexpensive rental van so we would not need to run a minimum two car convoy. Reservation in place then two participants opted out.

Poof! Plan B vanishes in a puff of proverbial smoke.

Back to four people and a single car.

Anyway, we finally made it to launch time. With at least 6 hours road time in front of us (3 each way), plus whatever time is spent on the ground at each location, fuel and ... other ... breaks, it stands to be a long day. Thus a zero-dark-thirty (ok, 8AM) departure is required and scheduled.

We actually left at 8:10. I will call that a victory.

First stop is Sardis Church Cemetery in which are interred multiple generations of direct ancestors of Mrs. B'rer and the nieces on Mrs. B'rer's mother's (the nieces' paternal grandmother) line starting with Mrs. B'rer 's great-grandparents. Bump everything back another generation for the girls. In addition to the direct ancestors there are literally scores of relatives of various stripes interred there as well. Conservatively speaking I would estimate a minimum 40-50% of the cemetery are somehow related to Mrs. B'rer and the girls.

We could easily spend several days canvassing the site and tracing all the relationships, but that is not in the cards for this excursion.

I will make one note of some interesting graves we spotting (yes, they are her relatives). There is a style of grave somewhat unique to the early to mid 19th century south. It is called a "Tent Grave" because of the clear and obvious visual similarity to a 'pup tent'. The origins and reasons for this style is debated as there is not a definitive explanation. Some conjecture says that it started by mounding and shaping the soil on top of the grave into a wedge when filling the grave in an effort to make rain drain off to the sides of the grave. This evolved, according to the theory, into placing large stone slabs over the grave in the same tent shape as the mounded earth.

Other theories are that this is a modification of a 'False Tomb' and meant to discourage any animals disturbing the grave.

Point is that no one knows for certain.

We not only found tent graves at Sardis, but we also found a version none of us can recall seeing anywhere else. Cast Iron Gratings intermeshed over the grave in the tent shape.

Check the photo below. Looks more like something meant to keep a zombie from getting out!

If you look at the top center of the photo, just above the right grate covered grave, you will see a more classic stone capped tent grave.

From here we took an unplanned sojourn to find the house where a noted family photo - the gathering of the clan - was taken in 1939. In that photo are Mrs. B'rer's maternal great-grandparents, grandparents, mother (as a a newly minted teenager), and uncles along with numerous great aunts and uncles, second and third cousins and who knows who else.

The happy couple seated in front row center are her great-grandparents. (I keep hearing Droopy Dog's voice: "Hello, all you happy people") The gentleman between them in the back row is her grandfather, and the leftmost lady in the patterned dress is her grandmother. The young girl just above and to the right of the seated elderly lady is Mrs. B'rer's mother. Mrs. B'rer says she is squinting in the sunlight. I say she just smelled something unpleasant.

We *did* find the house despite it almost not being visible from the road because of all the vegetation that has grown up in the past few decades (Mrs. B'rer was last there in the 1970s). I am not talking grass, weeds, or bushes, no. I am talking about TREES! Pine trees by the dozen have grown up and are 15 to 20 feet tall - or greater! And we dared violate the "No Trespassing" to scope the place out.

The girls were all set to play the "we are looking for our people" card if anyone comes along. I am set to let them deal with the locals.

Beggar Lice removed from our pants, we are off for unplanned stop #2 - a church cemetery we noticed on the way to find the house. Mrs. B'rer noticed several family surnames in the cemetery and want to stop and make some notes for later research to see if they are, in fact, relatives.

We had been there for no more than about 3 minutes when up pulls another car and from it emerges a local replete with the long beard and ball cap.

I am already on alert and keeping an eye on him. He is clearly doing the same to us. Both sides do the non-verbal "who the hell are you and why are you here?" dance for a few minutes. Eventually conversation starts. He explains that he is working to arrest some erosion along the back of the cemetery and Mrs. B'rer explains that she is looking at family names for potential relatives. Naturally this leads to asking what names and such. Eventually he (without Mrs. B'rer naming anyone specific) shares that he is descended from a Moses Barton, Sr.

Guess who Mrs. B'rer's ancestor is?

Yup. Moses Barton, Sr. She (and the girls) and this fellow are distant cousins, probably in the 5th cousin range. Though we don't take the time to try tracing the lines on the spot. They exchange contact info for latter change of genealogy data.

As an aside, there was some discussion of the challenges Genealogists face when a given name is repeated not just across generations but within any given generation. Such was the case with Moses. We concluded that the plural of Moses is Mosi. As in, "There are no fewer than three Mosi in this area alone!"

On to unplanned stop #3 (or as it would turn out, slow-down #1). In originally getting to the Sardis cemetery we passed a street sign marking a "Barton Chapel Loop" and Mrs. B'rer wants to see it. Once we got there and she saw the small, simple, plain white chapel building she decided there was no need to even get out of the car. Short of getting in the building itself everything could be seen driving past.

I started to turn around and leave the way we came. No. "It's a loop. Just keep going."

This was NOT a wise choice.

First off, the "road" looked like it had not seen paving since it was first done, probably around 1919. Second, it looks exactly like the area had been used as the target range for mortar practice in the years since that original paving.

But that was the less alarming aspects of the drive. The ... abodes .... we passed were barely that. The girls tossed out the term "shanty". I think that was doing a disservice to shantys.

Don't get me wrong. I am not a snob. Growing up I had a number of relatives that we visited semi-regularly who were simple farmers. Houses were unpainted, clapboard sided structures sitting on fieldstone pillars where the entire crawl space under the house was open to the elements. The kind of place that, when you approached, you expect a dozen or so hounds to come out from barking.

The places we passed on this "street" made my relative's places look like mansions in comparison.

There was a discussion in the car about whether, should we break down there, they would bother to bury our bodies or just roll them off in the brush. Lest you think this an exaggeration, know that the trash (not junk, trash - though there was junk, too) about the properties made it clear that a carcass or two would scarcely even bear notice.

This was not a place to stop, thus the "slow down #1". The road condition precluded any speed.

From there it was off to planned stop #2, a small cemetery obviously on what was family property back when (was was the custom of the era - formal cemeteries were only coming into vogue and were not yet the norm). It only has some 11 recorded burials, and only some of those with anything more than a field stone marker. But it contains Mrs. B'rer's 3rd and 4th GG parents (the former have - shocker - more tent graves, the latter originally had wooden markers that are long since gone), along with some other relatives.

For these keeping score, these are the paternal line grandparents and great grand parents of the elderly woman in the family photo above.

We already knew going in that these graves are back in the woods and are prepared.

We were NOT prepared for what we found. Not by a long shot.

Once on site, we start up an entrance I have difficulty accurately describing. It is not exactly a gravel covered driveway, though it may once have been. Nor is it a 'logging road' as it only goes back about 50 yards and there is obviously no logging in the area. Nor is it fit for any vehicle without high clearance and four-wheel drive due to severe erosion creating irregular ruts several inches deep. A Jeep or Hummer would be appropriate. And it is all uphill from road, rising about 10-12 feet over the 50 yard stretch from the road. The area rises another 8-10 feet from there to where we are to find the graves.

We start up the entrance. It was at this point things turned decidedly alarming.

First thing we note is a serious amount of trash. Soda bottles of difference sizes, cat food cans, and miscellaneous other garbage is piled up at least 5 feet deep and 30-40 feet across. This mess has been here long enough for leaves and pine straw to be covering most of it.

Initially we think this is simply an unofficial local dump. I've seen enough of those to not really be shocked by them.

But this ain't that.

Hidden from the road and only visible once we enter the area is what was once a mobile home/trailer. At first glance it looks abandoned so I don't get too alarmed. The amount of trash and brush growing up and on the trailer make it look like no one has been there in a while. There is enough trash and garbage there to fill at least one 40 yard roll-off bin.

Mrs. B'rer and niece 1 take one look at the terrain and opt to wait for niece 2 and myself to play mountain goat over the trash and through the woods. We are told to bring back photos. As will become apparent, I was happy to bring back our rear ends intact!

So up the remaining hill. When searching, make for the high ground and scan the area. Bingo! I see headstones and tent graves off to the right, parallel with the trailer.

It is at this precise moment that every alarm in my brain goes off. Danger signals abound!

The trailer is NOT ABANDONED!

I have to pause here and do my best to give you a visual of this scene. Remember the shantys above? Yeah, well those are the NICE places in comparison.

The door is open, if there is a door. Normally the door on a trailer opens into a main room; open space. Not so here. Someone has constructed something out of 2x4s such that rather than entering a room through the door one is presented with a semi wall with a 'door' immediately in front of you and a kind-of/sort-of narrow hall/path (fat people need not apply - they could not pass through it) to the left. Covering the makeshift 2x4 doorway is a nasty, tattered sheet of some kind. Strewn about the ground all around the actual trailer door is more garbage. Bottles and cat food tins comprising the bulk of the stuff. And it is clearly fresh. These cans have not been there all that long.

It was at the second I laid eyes on this setup that I put my hand on my pistol. It did not move from there until I was back at the car.

I essentially stood guard while niece 2 collects photos and GPS tags the marked graves.

Now understand that my alert level is already at 10. I have been in BAD places and my alert level only topped out at 8 or 9. Here I am a full 10.

Then things went to 11.

Off where Mrs. B'rer and niece 1 are waiting comes a barking dog. At first I thought this was a animal from one of the nearby houses.

I was mistaken. It is from the trailer. CRAP!

Time to wrap up and blow this popsicle stand. I can only take an adrenal rush for so long and I am reaching that limit. Fortunately there are only about 6 marked graves so our time on station is short and we can bail after only a few minutes.

Once we are back on the road there was a discussion on how to term that structure. The girls voted for "Crack House Chic". I disagreed, favoring instead "Opium Den Revival".  I would have taken a photo but it would have meant taking my hand off the pistol, and that was NOT happening.

From there it was off to planned stop #3, for the graves of Mrs. B'rer's 2nd GG Parents - the parents of the elderly lady in the above photo and the generation bridging those in the Sardis Cemetery and the "Terror In The Woods" cemetery.

Arriving at the site we find a fairly large church cemetery. Easily close to 1,000 internments. At this point it has already been an 8 hour day, give or take. So I tell the crew that it is their call as to whether, and if so how much time they want to spend doing so, search for the graves. All agree to a least make an effort, but not too much an effort. Looking at the posted photos of the headstones for possible establishing points to help us find it, I note the color and shape.

At this point we have not even opted to exit the car's AC. I look to our right and say I would not be surprised if the two stones about 40 feet over are it. We pile out of the car and walk over.

Damn! I am GOOD! Victory with minimal physical exertion. WINNING!

They all decide to to spend a few minutes just looking around before heading for the barn.

Mission accomplished, it is back home we head. And it is almost immediately that the 'kids' fall asleep. Poor youngsters. We done tuckered them out.

Return to Chateau Chaos is right about 8:00 PM. Twelve hour day. Oy! But they got some good data out of it, and time spend with their aunt is good (time with me is a much more dubious experience).

This was Northern Alabama. A separate excursion to Southern Alabama for another of Mrs. B'rer's mother's lines is penciled in for a future date.

Trying to remember the forgotten

Near Br'er's home warren stands the cemetery that belonged to a long vanished church. Now Br'er isn't exactly ancient, but he is long past his days as a kitten (Yes, that is what a baby rabbit is called. Use kit if kitten is too confusing. But those are the correct terms. So feel better about yourself. Today you learned a thing.) Yet it wasn't until he was well into adulthood before Br'er even learned that the cemetery existed.

This area was pretty much what would be considered frontier in the early days of the 19th century. Much of the land in the region was deeded to men who had served in the Revolution in lieu of pay. Even so, being Georgia there were not so many veterans in the area as was the case in more populated areas. And those that were here were often buried in family cemeteries on their land. So imagine Br'er's surprise to learn that there are four veterans of the Revolution interred there, virtually side by side!

Daniel Fones

Sergeant, 1st Rhode Island Regiment

1754 or 1764-?

Edward Levell

1756-1832

Continental Line

Graner Whitley

Continental Line

Peter Cash 

1759-1832

Virginia Troops

Br'er being the curious bunny he is, he naturally sought to learn more about these men who helped birth our nation.

Unfortunately most of their lives and service have been lost to the mists of history.

Daniel Fones appears in the Sons of the American Revolution (SAR) Patriot Database with a birth year of 1758 (Find A Grave gives his birth year as 1764, so even that is uncertain) and a service description "Served as a Sergeant in the 1st Regiment of Rhode Island Troops. Enlisted 5 Apr 1777 and served until the end of the war." He does not appear in the Daughters of the American Revolution Ancestor (Patriot) Database at all. Not much more could be located about him. Even the year of his passing is not known.  

Edward Levell appears in the SAR and DAR records under the spelling Leavell though the the details of his live and service differ between the two! The SAR has his birth and death as 1756 in South Carolina and 1832 in Georgia, contrasting with the DAR dates of 1755 in Virginia and 1824 in Kentucky respectively. His patriotic service? Soldier in Georgia according to the SAR vs Civil Service, Patriotic Service - "Paid for services rendered; Juror; Took Oath of Allegiance" - in North Carolina as recorded in the DAR data. Each group lists separate sources for their data. It is possible that there were two separate Edward Leavell/Levell patriots with each organization referencing a different man. Given his grave being in Georgia, I tend to give more weight to the SAR data. 

Graner Whitley is perhaps the saddest of the four. He only appears in the SAR database (no reference in DAR data). His birth and death, service details, virtually everything about him is no longer known. Even his name is disputed. The SAR has it as either Whitley or Whiteley.

Peter Cash is shocking in comparison to his above noted compatriots in that his details in the SAR and DAR records agree! He was, as were so many early settlers, born in Albermale County, Virgina to Stephen Cash and Jemima Grining, one of at least five sons. It was in where he joined the Amherst County Militia serving under Capt Samuel Joggembotham (There's a name to reckon with!) who reported to Colonel Joseph Campbell. He is listed as a "Minuteman" and is, to the best of my recollection, the only individual I have personally encountered who is so noted. After the Revolution he and four of his brothers migrated from Virginia to Georgia. Peter and his brothers William and James settling in what is today Tucker in Dekalb County (James is recorded as resting in the same cemetery though without a grave marker, and appears to have been born to a different mother than Peter and the other brothers). Two other brothers, Howard (also noted as a Patriot  by the SAR) and John, chose to setting in what is today Elbert County, Georgia. The brothers had two sisters. Lydia remained in Virginia with her husband James Cottrell. Sarah migrated to Ohio with her husband Daniel Tyler (also a Patriot).

A coda: The cemetery is small, only 71 entries in Find A Grave (One of them dated January 2019 is in error - the actual burial is in Bulloch County! Yes, I have requested the error be corrected.). 

The earliest recorded burial dates from 1830 (Peter Cash's brother, James) and the last confirmed burial in 2017. There are three graves where the burial date is not known (two of these being Daniel Fones and Graner Whitley so it is possible that either of them could, in fact, be the earliest burial). 

I find it fascinating that so small and (at least initially) remote a location could be in continued use for 184 years, decades after the physical church for which it was established vanished.

Tell me again. Why are we here?

The heatwave broken. Well at least not as horribly hot and humid as it has been the past few weeks. And with possible storms blowing it we had a good bit of cloud cover and a steady breeze. All in all not a bad day to scamper amongst the stones. So Mrs. Br'er acquiesced to a rabbit run into the hinterlands in search of more of my distant relatives.

In specific, two of Br'er's 5th Great Uncles. A brief recap so this makes a little sense.

Br'er's direct paternal line traces back to one chap who appears to have migrated from Wales to the colonies in the mid 18th century. Not a lot of solid documentation on him beyond his having one child, a son. That son served in the Revolution (lot's of stuff there, but it is a whole 'nother story) and received multiple land bounties in Georgia for his service. He migrated from North Carolina with wife and children in tow to take up farming those acres. It was two of his son's reputed burial sites that we were out to visit; Robert and John, Jr.

To digress for a moment, Br'er's family - like so many others - has ended up with varied spellings over the years. There is the original Welsh spelling: Gruffydd or Gryffydd (which are still pronounced the same as the modern spelling - gotta love that). And there are two primary modern spellings: Griffith and Griffeth, again pronounced the same. As it turns out Robert used the -ith spelling and John, Jr. the -eth spelling. And to tie in the previous post "Sometimes the bear gets you", the distant cousin whose grave we were searching for (Eunice Frances “Nicy” Griffeth Smith) is the granddaughter of John, Jr..

Anyhoo, back to the point (there has to be one rolling about here somewhere).

I say "reputed burial sites" for good reason. Apparently Br'er's ancestors in those days were too poor or too cheap to erect stone markers for people. And if Br'er is any indication, either option is equally probable. Hence comes the post title: "If there aren't any markers then why are we here in the first place?"

Now, one brother's (Robert) wife has a marker in a specific cemetery (The Brown Family Cemetery): Sarah “Sallie” Brawner Griffith. FindAGrave lists Robert as buried here as well, but there is no marker. He predeceased Sarah by some 20 years. Barring additional documentation that I have yet to locate I will keep his grave site as an open question. I do not at this point know what the relationship between Robert and Sarah to anyone in the Brown family is. Why Sarah (and possibly Robert) are in that family cemetery remains a mystery to me.

Still, off we go.

According to satellite photos, the cemetery is in a wooded area in what remains to this day farmland. It is not possible to see anything in the photo based on the cemetery GPS location. And we know from experience how accurate some location data can be!

Arriving at the stated location (well, road abutting the cemetery location - which is at a T-Bone intersection of two country roads), we peer in from every available angle hoping that we can spy anything that will confirm where, specifically, the graves are. No Joy. A physical search is necessary.

This is not looking good. Unlike so many other places, there is not a clearly accessible path into the woods here. The entire perimeter looks to be thickly vegetated.

Damn. This could be ugly. I leave Mrs. Br'er at the car for the moment (no sense risking her health yet) to see what I can find. Fortunately the initial vegetation is just a thin screen and poses no real challenge to access the inner area. Sweet. And once past it, everything opens up. Now many briars or brambles, just open woods. Double Sweet. A mere few yards in and I can see the graves, so I go back and retrieve Mrs. Br'er and we proceed.

Life Pro Tip (LPT) for folks cemetery stomping in like areas: Pick up a good stick or pull off a branch from something and wave it about as you move through the woods to knock down spiderwebs. I can't speak for other people, but neither Br'er or Mrs. Br'er relishes catching a web in the face.

Brown Family Cemetery views

Sarah Griffith's marker. Note the error in Robert's name - one of the 'F's in Griffith is missing! 

The grave was clearly a flat top false tomb typical of the area and era that has partially collapsed. If Robert is buried in the same cemetery then one would presume he is next to or near her grave.

Once at the site proper she sets about looking at all the markers searching for interesting phrasing and iconography. I set about updating each identified grave in FindAGrave with its own GSP location. And I make my best effort to insure no markers in the cemetery have been missed; that every identifiable grave is in the database, photographed, and GPS tagged. This location only has 23 recorded graves, and of those only six have no photo of  a marker. There are several obvious graves that have no formal marker, so this is plausible.

I make a note to research into any possible family connections to the women in the cemetery with Griffith or Griffeth (apparently maiden) names to see if they are also relations. All things considered, I would be less than surprised if they are.

Having done everything we could with the time, materials, and knowledge available, it is off to location #2: New Hope Presbyterian Church Cemetery a few miles away in Paoli.

Just before arriving there we pass a small country church that has what appear to be older markers in its graveyard. Curious, we make a stop to look around. What we found was easily the oddest thing we, personally, have ever encountered in all our excursions.

To set this up properly: I cannot speak to burial practices in other areas, only to these parts (Southeastern US). Here, outside some specific situations, caskets and/or coffins are required to be placed in what are called "vaults" as part of the internment process. Over the years I have seen these be made of steel or concrete (there is a newer version made of fiberglass and essentially inverted from the classic design - that is post all its own for another time). Think Sarcophagus. A large, thick, heavy box with an equally thick, heavy lid in which the casket is lowered then the lid (with a sealing gasket to keep out moisture) placed and the grave closed.

Typical burials are deep enough that there are still several feet of soil on top of the vault.  Not the classic 6 feet, but several feet. Enough that the weight keeps the vault sealed.

Vaults are "required" for several reasons ranging from preserving the remains to preventing remains from contaminating the water table to (the primary reason in my opinion) preventing the grave from caving in or sinking later as decomposition takes place. Cemeteries HATE anything that requires maintenance of a grave and interferes with easy mowing grass.

Well! As we start looking about it is clear that the church (or a church on the site) dates back to at least the first decade of the 1900s based on the death years of several markers. And the original graveyard obviously presented a problem of sorts because there is a large modern-ish burial in the acre behind what would appear to be the original church lot. There are graves in the original graveyard dating way back that are now virtually abutting the building expansion. As I read the site, the small church as fine for a long time. But either the original closed and a new church consecrated on the same site or the existing church was rebuilt and expanded necessitating  an entirely new graveyard.

Walking about the new burials we noted what appeared to be an unusual slab marker. Rather than a typical flat slab covering the grave, this appears to be slightly domed. As we get closer to it it becomes apparent that this is no slab. It is the lid or top of the burial vault! If you look closely along the sides you can see the four embedded loops used to lift and lower the lid.

We found this unusual to say the least.

Another sight we came across (I neglected to take any photos) that I found rather sad was a veteran's VA issued marker laying several yards from his grave, obviously discarded as it was half buried and clearly had been there for some time. He and his wife had a newer, large, shared upright headstone. Apparently when it was installed he VA marker had been removed and discarded. Why it was not reinstalled as a footstone I cannot fathom. Were it not so far from Br'er's warren he would go back and re-erect it himself.

Other unusual things we spotted included a large headstone with literally no markings or engravings. Not even a last name.

Eventually we resumed our original course.

The New Hope cemetery is classic old, country church burial ground. We already knew that John, Jr., if truly buried here, has no marker. It is just a matter of being able to say we've been there.

 

New Hope Church Cemetery. The square stone structure *may* be related to John, Jr.'s grave. But I am not betting on it.

But as ever, Mrs. Br'er is compelled to look for interesting markers. We come across something unexpected (lots of that happens on these runs): A veteran of the American Revolution! Understand that these areas were literally 'frontier' at the time. And Georgia was not exactly a hotbed of action in the Revolution (yes, there were important battles, but they were few and far between), so encountering these veterans' graves is not exactly common.

From the Sons of the American Revolution Patriot database:

"Samuel Long was born about 1753 in County Donegal, Ireland. He immigrated to America in 1762 with his brothers James and Andrew and settled in the Cumberland Valley near Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

During the American Revolution he served as an Ensign in the Pennsylvania Militia and as a Captain under Marquis de Lafayette. He was present at the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown. He also served in the 2nd Battalion, Cumberland County, Pennsylvania Militia in 1781. In 1792 Samuel Long. Sr. and family traveled to Georgia and settled in what is now the Paoli Community, Madison County, Georgia, and founded New Hope Presbyterian Church."

The name Samuel Long may not be well known to many. But his grandson's name is. At least it is in the medical community because Crawford W. Long pioneered the use of anesthesia and there is a major medical facility named for him in Atlanta.

Damage done, we move on. A short side trip to Oconee Hill Cemetery in Athens and a mental note to take Mrs. Br'er to the Jackson St Cemetery on the UGA campus made. Both locations may be future posts. Some day. Maybe.

A late lunch and we are starting the trek home. But first another graveyard stop! This time, Bethabara Baptist Church Cemetery. Now Br'er has been here before with Papa Br'er for one of Papa Br'er's maternal uncles graves. But what Br'er only recently learned is that he has a mess of distant relatives on the paternal line as well. Specifically, descendants of John, Jr. from above. Not to make life easy for anyone both Robert and John, Jr. named sons John. And Jr. (sigh). But it is one of John, Jr.'s sons, John, Jr. (Damn!) and his descendants who occupy many, many graves here. One day when the weather is perfect Br'er and the Missus plan on packing a lunch, a bottle or two of wine, and heading back to insure everyone identifiable are updated in FindAGrave and their GPS coordinates updated. Considering their numbers, that is going to be a long day.

By now the light is fading and the rain is moving in. Time to return to the warren!

Sometimes the bear gets you

Anyone who has set off on an adventure to locate some long forgotten cemetery doubtless has at least one tale to tell. In truth they probably have scores of them. And not all have happy endings.

Mrs. GYRabbit and ol' Br'er struck out - literally and figuratively - a few weeks back to locate the grave of one of Br'er's distant kin. Something like a 2nd Cousin 4th removed, or in that neighborhood. You see Br'er has been researching his family tree for a while now. Having traced back each ancestor's individual line about as far as he can (not being from a rich, aristocratic line has many drawbacks, not the least of which being births, deaths, and marriages simply were not deemed important enough to record properly), he 'branched out' on the tree and began documenting all the various descendants from the deepest ancestor. You can imagine how many people that entails when you start 5, 6, 7, or more generations back and some relations bred like, well, rabbits!

Our destination? Double Springs Baptist Church Old South as it is recorded in Find A Grave. Now this is not to be confused with Double Springs Baptist Church Old North that seems, based on the GPS coordinates entered by whomever recorded them, to sit literally in the same spot.

The South cemetery has 18 graves recorded (including Br'er's relative). Most have marker photographs so there is hard evidence for them. In contrast the North site has a scant 5 graves recorded with only 2 having photographs of markers.

I should mention a few salient facts.

First, satellite imagery reveals that there is nothing visible from above. The area is wooded and nothing resembling a cemetery is visible, nor is there anything that remotely looks like a church in the general area. Of the 23 total recorded graves between the two locations, the last recorded burial was Br'er's relative in 1907! Most of the others petered out in the 1880s. She was widowed in 1868 and her husband was laid to rest in the same cemetery, so it makes sense that she would be buried there as well, even if the church had closed up shop by then. Just over a century later and the only remaining evidence of the church appears to be the graves.

Second, this excursion sets out in August. In Georgia. In temperatures hitting the 90s with humidity levels normally reserved for a sauna.

I never said Br'er was a bright bunny.

Third, being a wooded, overgrown site, there is a real danger of various fauna that can be bad: Snakes, ticks, gnats, mosquitos, and other vermin are a thing. So are fauna from hell. Br'er may have been born and bred in the briar patch but he has evolved past that and no longer finds comfort dealing with such fauna. Long sleeves, heavy jeans, thick shoes and socks, and other "protections" of various sorts are employed.

Arriving as close to the flagged spot as the auto can get us, we start off into the brush in search of our quarry. The coordinates are a few yards off the road, so are readily accessible.

But there is nothing there. Now Br'er has a bit of experience with these things and knows all too well that unless one is employing high quality electronics (and Br'er ain't) then there can be discrepancies of several yards between different devices and maps for the exact same coordinates. No need to panic. It is just a simple matter of following a fixed search pattern and expanding the search grid until the actual goal is located. I mean we are just a couple of fools out on a lark, not SEAL Team 6 calling a sniper in on a terrorist hiding in a closet at the local orphanage. Our need for precision is not nearly so great.

Off Br'er scampers into the wild. Bounding over fallen logs, weaving through vines, evading brambles, and scurrying up and down hills. Overall at least 3 acres of semi-dense woods are eventually covered. Probably more. The search area is about 100+ yards long (following the road) and 150-250+ yards deep.

Not a damned thing found. The whole time Br'er is fixated on the fact that there are photos! The cemetery has to be here somewhere!

After a good hour or two even stubborn Br'er is forced to abandon the search. Sweat is literally dripping off his clothing and he is starting to smell toast (a sign of a stroke).

Plans are made to possibly, maybe return in more moderate weather and take another shot at things.

But Br'er can't let it go. He drops a note to the photographer who uploaded the marker pics, relates he woeful tale of failing in the search, and asks if more precise directions to the site might be shared.

He hears back rather quickly. "You were close! The site is about 300 yards back from the road."

I leave it to your imagination the specific stream of profanities Br'er issued at that news.

Yup. A return trip is on come cooler temperatures. Finding the site and updating the GPS coordinates for all the graves is now a moral imperative.

Well that explains a lot

I had submitted the requisite on-line request for official membership in the Association of Graveyard Rabbits and received what I found to be a very, shall we say, oddly worded and non-committal response. And the speed with which I received that response was such that I was virtually certain it was automated. Several days pass with no other word.

This I found suspect, so I started digging and researching more.

I already knew that the founder of the organization passed away in 2010. But, I figured, the other person listed as something like an admin had picked things up.

Not so fast there, skippy.

Looking at the associated bio I note three blogs the person maintains. Two of the three no longer exist. And the third hasn't been updated in literally years.

Association FB page? Nothing since 2010.

Other members' blogs? I checked about twenty and found three updated this year (only not since January). Every other blog? Nothing in years.

Hmmm....

So I tried the 'contact us' link on the association's web page to send a message asking if anyone was maintaining the page and association, or has it gone defunct.

Ping! Automated reply immediately appears in the in-box:

"Thank you for contacting The Association Of Graveyard Rabbits.

You will be receiving a response shortly.

Terry Thornton"

Terry is the founder who passed away in 2010.

I think I am safe in saying that the Association of Graveyard Rabbits is no longer a "thing" outside the hearts and memories of a few people. At least it is not anything official in any sense of the word. I suppose someone with the time and desire could try to wrest control of the site from Google (it is hosted on Google's Blogspot). But that person ain't me. It is almost certainly under a person (Terry Thornton?) and even if Google were willing to play ball then there would be family and other people to track down and deal with. No thanks. 

This blog will trundle on as is for as long as I care to futz with it. And I shall leave the GYR name and logo in situ just for grins and giggles. In retrospect, an association dealing with graveyards and cemeteries being dead kind of tickles my dark sense of humor.

Now you tell me!

Br'er's family is no different than millions of others. Unless one is born to wealth, position, or peerage - or you had an ancestor that had time and interest in such matters - there is little knowledge of one's ancestry beyond grandparents or perhaps great grandparents. Such matters simply were not of any importance. And, if like so many, live spans were not overly long then you were not even exposed to prior generations.

Out of sight, out of mind. Stories and information was (is) not passed from generation to generation.

So it was in Br'er's family. But in spades.

How does this apply to cemeteries and graveyards? Well, sit back and relax. We will get there eventually. Have faith. I shall bring it all together eventually.

It is first necessary to give some history from Br'er's paternal family.

When Br'er's Mother was gestating little Br'er, Br'er's Father's Father - Paternal Br'er Grandpa, one James Malcom Griffith - announces that the child to be is going to be twins. Naturally this prompted many questions, the primary among these being, "How do you know that?" What followed shocked all involved. Obviously Br'er wasn't in a position to hear this firsthand. I paraphrase the conversation based on all the retelling of the story I heard over the years.

"Twins skip a generation. I was a twin so I expect twins to crop up in the grandchildren (NB: There were already 7 grandchildren by the time Br'er was coming along and nary a set of twins among them)."

Br'er's Father snapped his head around and stared at his Father in utter amazement. "You're a twin?!" It was the first time in his 20 something years that he had ever heard anything about his Father being a twin. Mind you Br'er's Father had extensive relations at the time. Many Uncles and Aunts, and enough cousins to field multiple baseball teams. Yet no one ever mentioned Daddy's twin brother.

What Br'er's Grandpa then related was that his twin brother John Macon Griffith died. (James Malcom and John Macon may seem to be odd names for twins - Br'er GYRabbit has more than one case of oddly named family in his background) Now he never seemed to be clear on the details. Whether stillborn, or a live birth but surviving minutes, hours, days, weeks, or months was never made clear. All things considered it was probably less than a day. Oddly Br'er's Grampa's Mother was still alive at this time (and for several years after), yet no one chose to ask her for any of the details. So the precise history was lost.

Br'er's Grandpa went on to explain that his brother was buried in a cemetery near the 'old home place'.  This family cemetery had never been mention to Br'er's Father before either. There had been a few tales of family life during Grandpa's childhood on the farm, but all the pieces had never been put together before. The farm, the cemetery, deceased family, all of it had remained separate, disjointed facts until the tale of the twin came out. Naturally a trip or two to find the site were required. So at least Br'er's parents knew where everything is/was now. And what few graves were marked there.

As time wore on Br'er's Mother took up the mantel of tracing the family tree. In doing this she learned that Br'er's 2nd Great Paternal Grandfather (Br'er's Father's Paternal Great Grandfather) was buried in the same family cemetery as Grandpa's twin brother! And Grandpa has a sister, Alice Alberta Griffith, born few years after him who did not survive a year (again, the details are lost to the ages), and she, too, is buried in the same family cemetery. Naturally none of these three had any grave markers beyond maybe a field stone.

Br'er's 2nd Great Paternal Grandfather, James Macon Griffith (Another J M Griffith. Sensing a pattern emerging?) , had served in the Confederacy and thus was due a VA issued marker. Mamma now had a mission: Obtain the VA marker and have it erected in the cemetery. And she succeeded.

But there was a slight problem. Where, exactly, in the cemetery should his marker be erected? It wasn't as though there exactly any maps of who lay where in the two dozen or so known unmarked graves scattered about the property.

Enter the granddaughters! James Macon had three surviving granddaughters at the time the marker was obtained. And two of them had attended his funeral. We relied on their memories for an approximate location of his grave and placed his marker there. Bear in mind that we are talking about memories from 70 or so prior while they were small girls (under age 10) and the family home was some 150 yards away from the cemetery.

So it was one spring day in the 1980s that several descendants - grandchildren (the three sisters), great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren plus a few nieces and nephews of various great grand levels - of James Macon Griffith gathered to dedicate, if that is the correct term, a combination headstone and cenotaph for their shared ancestor.

It was noted lest anyone there might not realize it, but with the granddaughters we had the last living memories (for they did remember their grandfather, at least a little) of the actual man. Not the stories we others carried. Not anything recorded in a book or a tape. No, actual memories of the man made and experienced while the man was alive. As this was about 160 years after his birth that is remarkable indeed!

As the years continued and more family history was recovered we learned how these people came to be in that place. You see, James Macon (a serial monogamist - her had three wives in all, just no more than one at a time - he was twice a widower) had married one Nancy James Smith. Her father, Arthur W Smith, had originally owned most of the surrounding land. It was for his family and descendants that the cemetery was created. And he is interred there with one of the few actual markers. Note the fancy iron fencing! All the rage in the Gay 90s! (He passed in 1892)

Imagine Br'er GYRabbit and Father's surprise to learn who their 3rd and 2nd Great-Grandfather was and where he was buried. Br'er Father was in his 50s when he learned all this. It still takes him so effort to grasp all the new information.

As is evident in the photos, this is still a very rural area. We have taken up the task to do what we can to insure that these graves (the Smith Cemetery in Oglethorpe County, GA if one is interested in finding it in FindAGrave) are not lost. Placing flowers, clearing brush, and marking boundaries as best they can be determined, among other activities.

I am still working on tracking the land ownership to determine if it is probable that any direct ancestors beyond Arthur W Smith may be interred there. There are clear man-made rock 'walls' in one section that I am trying to gather more information on. These are in a sad state and difficult to properly see as things sit. They appear to be typical southern grave walls from the early 19th century. Someone has listed a Brinkley Smith (1777-1807) and his spouse, Susannah (Tiller) Smith (1785-?) as buried in the Smith Cemetery. However neither appears in "Cemeteries of Oglethorpe County, Georgia", 6th Edition, 2017 published by the Oglethorpe County Historical Society. Much more research on the Smith line and these two people is needed before even beginning to make a case for their graves being here.

Slated for future work is searching to see if anything of the family farm house remains (fireplace, foundation, etc.) so that it can be geo tagged for later reference.

Once more into the briar patch!

Up Front Caveat: Despite the member artwork on the blog. formal acceptance to the Association of Graveyard Rabbits is only pending.

I have scampered about various cemeteries, graveyards, mausoleums, and other myriad resting places for decades. Only recently has the notion of chronicling any of those misadventures become a 'thing'. At least for me.

At the urging of one Madam Br'er Graveyard Rabbit this blog is the launching point to share some of our tales as we "go cemetery stomping" in the North Georgia environs (with the occasional excursion into locations further afield).

Being something of a wag, I felt I needed a voice - a particular persona - from which to author posts. Something distinct from my day to day persona, but still clearly myself at the same time. Any reference to 'Rabbit' in these parts will almost always come around to the writings of Joel Chandler Harris (Whose home was a few miles away from this Br'er Graveyard Rabbit's own home warren. And whose grave turns out to be close to some of Br'er's distant relatives. I shall have to relate that tale in a future post).

Many of these expeditions are in search of distant relatives revealed while documenting the family tree. And those have been eye opening! One example was learning that a church cemetery I have literally passed hundreds of times over the years. I knew I had a couple of relations interred there (a couple of my father's uncles), but little more. Tracing down from one of my 5th GGFs I learned that I am directly related to about 10% of the 1,000 recorded burials in that one cemetery!

As we say in the South, "I have a number of people there."

Beyond family research (oh, at the tales coming on THAT subject), I will share the random roaming TW (The Wife) and I do in and about the countryside. Nothing can change our plans faster than spying an old cemetery with interesting markers. "We will just stop for a minute." invariably ends up seeing at least an hour spent reading markers and searching for more information about someone (provided I can get a good cell signal).

Look for posts covering discoveries of various cemeteries I never knew existed. Some are close to the home warren that I only learned of after living DECADES in the area. Others were revealed looking in the the family history. Others are simply the result of a random factors aligning and resulting in a new find.

One suggestion to any readers: Never start reading anything I post without first getting a lovely beverage and a comfy spot to sit. Once I start telling a tale it can end up being closer to a saga than a postcard!

You have been warned!