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.