Remind me again - Why am I here?

If you ever want elegant proof that standardized testing is utter bunk, you need only look to me. I have formally tested out as scoring in the top 1% of the population on an official, proctored IQ test. And that test stopped at the 99th percentile. The score itself probably probably score out closer to 99.9 percent given how many points it was above and beyond the 98% to 99% breakpoint. But they did not normalize the scores out that far on that test so I can only speculate.

The point being I am alleged to be "smarter than the average bear".

Alleged. Key word there. Clearly my actions belie my testing. Doing these cemetery excursions into the hinterlands clearly exhibits idiocy far more than intelligence. 

This latest trip definitely qualifies as further proof of my actual idiocy.

I posted previously about setting off cross-country to locate and photograph a never previously photographed cemetery, and how I was ill prepared for the excursion. Then I related getting lost in the woods finding another never before photographed cemetery - again, cross country,

Well moron me, I went for the Trifecta. Another one out in the woods that has never been photographed. Homes Cemetery.

I am an idiot.

At least the weather was not entirely against me. Warm, but not too hot and humid. In a matter of a couple of weeks that is certain to change. It will become a veritable sauna and the vegetation will be impenetrable.

This time I was back to the same area as the Patman Cemetery a couple of weeks back. I had noted this one 'around the corner' at that time and noted that I needed to return and research it. 

When I actually plan one of these excursions I try and do as much research as possible about the location. Satellite maps and Google Street View (where that is an available option) are great resources to plan an attack.

But they are far from perfect as I would learn. The hard way.

I am certain that everyone has seen an electric transmission tower tight of way at least once, if only in a movie. Picture those massive towers stationed at regular intervals with dozens of large cables stretching across the landscape. Recall how all the trees are removed for about 50 or 75 yards to either side of the towers leaving a swath of open space miles long. 

Got that image? Good.

Now visualize this. The coordinates for the cemetery are about 100 or so yards off one of these corridors somewhere around a third of a mile from the road. Looking at the satellite view it should be a relative snap to get to. Follow the tree line along the power line corridor until you get about even with the cemetery then turn into the woods and BINGO!

Oh, how wrong I was on that approach!

Turns out that there are a significant number of ravines blocking the way. And I mean ravine. Not some little wash or gully. Not a low point that you can't see until you are in it. No. I mean the kind of deep barrier that castles would envy as protection from an invading horde of barbarians. 10 plus fee deep and anywhere from 6 to 30 or 40 feet across, and running for hundreds of feet mostly perpendicular to my direction of travel.

I keep hearing Gandalf bellowing, "You shall not pass!"

I am forced to backtrack and go into the woods early to find safe passage around these obstacles. 30 years ago I might have tried crossing them. But at my age the last thing I need is to break a leg while solo out in the wilds. Contrary to all opinions I have managed to learn a little prudence over the years. I don't expect to live forever. But neither do I desire to die of stupidity.

Fortunately this is more deer hunting acreage and that means paths cut through the timber. And lucky for me they follow more or less the direction I am traveling.  

Somewhere about a quarter mile in I see a large open space ahead. This should mean a bit of easy progress.

"Should" seldom means "Does". You would think I would have learned that by now.

Yes, there is an open expanse ahead. But getting to it at this point would mean scaling down a minor cliff face about 15 feet straight down. Remembering that Down is easy and Up is really hard I start looking for a wiser point to traverse from. That means many yards perpendicular to my path further into the trees.

Great.

Once I do manage to get to the open expanse my alarms go off. I am about to enter an obvious flood plain. That could mean lots of mud and soft soft. Not the friends of anyone on foot.

Fortunately it has been long enough between rains that the ground is very firm. No problem crossing the space.

But problem proceeding further. Naturally.

Instead of a ravine this time I encounter a running creek. Not a lot of water, just a deep and wide creek bed. Way more than you can just step over. And the opposite bank is not flat. It immediately starts going steeply uphill. While it might be possible to take a run and jump the creek, there is nowhere remotely safe to land on the other side. Remembering that I don't want to break a bone out here on my lonesome, I start following the creek further into the woods looking for a safe place to ford.

Eventually I find a good spot, cross, and resume my trek (yeah - this is a trek by this point in the experience). That entails making my way up that steep slope on the opposite side of the creek and up about 100 feet in elevation. 

Yay. Fun. 

Yes, I am using all the appropriate techniques to make the slog as easy as possible - rather than climbing straight up I take an angled approach with switchbacks as the terrain allows and dictates. Now if you remember you grammar (grade?) school science then you will recall that using an inclined plane (essentially the path I am following up this hill) does reduce the effort required to move something to a higher point it does so my increasing the distance traveled so the overall energy expenditure is not reduced.  

So while each step I take is a little less taxing, I have to take a LOT more of them to reach my goal. More simply put, I am beat like a rented mule and leaking from every pore in my body. Still, as I have noted in the past, I am far more stubborn than smart. So on I go.

Eventually (and thankfully with no more ravines, creeks, gullies, or cliffs) I spot the unmistakable glint of galvanized chain link fence through the trees, and it is almost precisely on the coordinates given for the cemeteries.

Sadly, what I found is a severely neglected site with two large trees that have toppled over the area. And vines, briars, and undergrowth rule the day.

Surprisingly, the headstones themselves are in fairly good condition aside from some vegetation covering them. And more than a few limbs and saplings in the way. I managed to get good photos of everything visible. But one of the fallen trees effectively blocked access (At least blocked unless I was willing to crawl to get to it. I was not so willing) to the back third of the fenced in area. I could not see any obvious graves there, but doubtless there are some.

Naturally the actual number of graves I found did not match those recorded in Find A Grave. There are at least two more burials than are recorded. Probably more. I found at least five obvious field stone markers. These are clearly graves as they are deliberately placed in row and columns evenly set with the space necessary for a grave. The pattern is far to clear and obvious to be anything else. Factoring in the cemetery space I could not access I estimate there are spaces there for at least 8 more graves. Perhaps there are, perhaps not. It would take serious logging crew with heavy equipment to clear the fallen tree before the ground could be properly searched and logged. Anything else would simply result in more damage to the fencing and anything under the tree trunk. To be honest, though, that damage is all be inevitable as the tree rots and collapses over time because there is zero probability that anyone will take on the expense to preserve the site.

Looking back to Find A Grave there are three logged memorials for which I cannot find a stone. Perhaps these are among the field stones. Perhaps not. 

Correction. 6 field stone markers, not 5.

Great. I get to do a lot of research. And submit the resulting updates to Find A Grave. Keen eyed readers will already note one significant submission needed. 

Missed it? The cemetery is recorded as Homes Cemetery. The last name on all the markers save the shared obelisk is Holmes.

But that has to wait until I am back at the warren rested and washed. The immediate future my focus is on getting my old, fat, exhausted butt back out of the woods. Fortunately the return is easier than the entry.

Let me tell you. Air Conditioning is one of the greatest inventions in history! A few minutes cooling off and hydrating in the car and I was ready to head out again.

I will save the telling of the rest of the day's adventure for another time. There is still too much to go on this cemetery to venture off on other matters just yet.

Let the research begin!

Back home, rested, washed, and in front of the computer I began looking in to the people laid to rest in the cemetery. 

Three of the marked graves are for children. I have a particular itch to see that children's graves are linked to those of their parents in Find A Grave. This is of no real import in the grand scheme of things. But it is a thing with me nonetheless. 

I start with what appears to be a married couple and go from there. What I find only makes me crazy.

I mentioned earlier that there are three marked children's graves: Emma E. Sallie D, and William Holmes. All born between 1880 and 1896. Emma survived only 2 and a half months. Sallie a mere 8 months. And William the longest at two years and three months. All three are linked in Find A Grave to Thomas Henry Holmes and his wife Martha (Collins) Holmes. Thomas was born about 1849 and Martha in 1856, so the years these children were born absolutely 'fit' with their being Thomas and Martha's children.

But not so fast there, Skippy.

Looking at the 1900 US Census I find a problem. If you are not familiar with the various censuses, you should know that in certain census years additional questions are asked. In 1900, one of these was asking how many children a woman had born and how many survive as of the census enumeration. I have come across many cases in my research recording where a woman had lost several children prior to the 1900 census.

Well, damn! Martha is recorded as having born 6 children with 6 surviving. Houston, we have a problem. Either Martha lied on the census or these three children are not hers. And I cannot find where Thomas ever had another wife.

Hmmm.... Perhaps these are children of one or more of Thomas's five brothers? I flesh out as much as possible on their branches of the tree and cannot come up with anything definitive.

First brother Ira's wife, Susan failed to record child counts in 1900 even though there are children listed in the household the census.

Second brother Jeremiah has no record of marriage OR children. Indeed, he appears to vanish after the 1860 census.

Third brother Joseph's wife, Ruina, reports 4 children with 3 surviving in 1900. So one possibility there. BUT! As of 1880 they are living many mile away in another county. So highly unlikely any of these children would be theirs.

Fourth brother Carter lived until 1940 (not bad for someone born in rural Georgia in 1843!). His death certificate states he is married, but give nothing about who is wife might be. Nor can I find any other record of him in the preceding years. He died in the same county as brother Joseph was living, so it could be that is where he spent much of his adult life and where any wife and/or children would be buried. No way at this point to know.

Fifth brother Joshua's wife, Georgia, reports zero children born. They only married in 1897 so none of the three children in question would logically be theirs.

Thus endeth the list of brothers with nothing reasonably indicating whose children these might be.

I entertained the idea that they might be siblings of Thomas. For a few seconds. Their father was born in 1789 or 1790. And he appears to have died about 1880. So no. As Jerry Springer might say, "He is NOT the father!"

Damn. This is a mystery that is not going to be solved any time soon, if ever. 

Beyond the children, I am curious about the Collins couple I find in the cemetery. This appears to be Martha's Brother and his wife. Makes a certain amount of sense.

That leaves me with the questions of the people with Find A Grave memorials recorded in the cemetery but for whom I do not see a physical marker. These are:

Bessie Mae Holmes (1879-1932)

Joe Henry Holmes (1888-1919)

Mary E Holmes (1882-1882 - three days only)

Bessie appears to have died a spinster living in Decatur, Ga (right around the warren location!), Her death certificate gives her burial place as Lexington, Ga. This Holmes Cemetery is close to Lexington, so it fits that she is buried there. Perhaps in an unmarked grave, or perhaps in a marked grave in the inaccessible portion and the marker is not visible through the vegetation. 

Joe Henry appears o be a sad story. Little in the way of records exist for him. The truly revealing piece is his World War I draft card where he is deemed 'physically deficient' and an epileptic. That condition at that time and place was utterly life limiting. Little surprise that he died so young having never married. I cannot locate a death certificate. But he is last listed in the 1910 census still living in his father's household. So it is not a leap of logic to have him buried in this cemetery.

Mary E may as well be a ghost or a myth. If the dates in Find A Grave are accurate then she lived as mere three days in February of 1882. The only evidence of her ever living would be an entry in a family bible or a story handed down through the years. Or perhaps a notice in a local newspaper. I know from harsh experience that there were few newspapers in the area, that few of those survive, and the only copies available are in the bowels of the University of Georgia in Athens. None of them are available on-line, so if I want to pursue that line I have to travel and do the hours of research on-site. 

Not in the cards.

So what does all this sum up to? 

Three children whose parentage is unprovable.

Two adult offspring whose burial is probable though apparently unmarked.

One infant whose entire existence seems to be pure conjecture let alone its burial location and parentage.

All this in a cemetery that is exceedingly difficult to access at all, much less properly investigate and document. 

It appears there may be living relatives and/or descendants. I can only wonder if they even know about the site, much less give a flying leap at a rolling donut about what happens to it.

With that I can calling a lid on this escapade. On to more productive matters.

Reporting from Camp Granada

Smiths. Fecking Smiths. The bane of all genealogists. 

Smiths are ubiquitous. And like all families they use the same names generation after generation. And even multiple times within the same generation. Sussing out these familial relationships is like trying to work out identities of Irish Travelers. If you are 'in' the group then you know who everyone is. Otherwise you are faced with the prospect of working out which John Smith belongs where. It can be maddening.

Naturally this means that there are multiple Smith Cemeteries in any given county. There are some 10 cemeteries in Oglethorpe County, Georgia named or including the name Smith. You can imagine the joy of working through all that.

As I have told before, we 'inherited' a family cemetery in Oglethorpe County where at least two generations of my ancestors are buried. You guessed it. It is a Smith Cemetery, named for my paternal Great-Great-Grandfather's Father-in-Law, Arthur W Smith's line. Yay for me.

The cemetery was already recorded in Find A Grave long before I became aware of any of this. And as is all too often the case, much of the memorial data in it was incorrect. I have worked for years to correct as much of the mistakes as I can.

The last of these was a Smith who I could not find any way to link to my Smith line. There was no marked stone for him in the cemetery, nor is there any available record stating he was buried there. This was a case of someone speculating that this was the correct cemetery. There was nothing left to conclude but that he had to be buried elsewhere. Ostensibly in one of the other Smith or Smith-Adjacent cemeteries.

Knowing all this, it makes sense that I had on my Excursion List a Smith Cemetery that had long been recorded by the county historical society as containing at least two marked Smith graves. However it had never been photographed. Who knows? Perhaps there are additional marked graves there that, for whatever reason, were never recorded. It would not be the first time I encountered a partially recorded old cemetery.

Well, this was the day to find that cemetery! Of course it is far off the accessible path on what was once farmland accessed from a county road.

Note the operative word there. "Once"

Today the spot is hell and gone from anything remotely considered civilization. The land has reverted to timber and is clearly used for timber harvesting and deer hunting. Oh, and the county road? It is now closed off. So I was in for a cross country hike.

Lovely.

To add to the 'fun', there is zero cell service in the area. This meant my ability to use GPS on the phone to orient in on the exact spot was extremely limited. I had to work only with map data I already had on the phone. No new data was available due to no signal.

Now when I say no signal I mean no signal. None. Off the grid. I don't think even sending up a signal flare would communicate to anyone. This is the Boon-Fecking-Docks. 

But I am a Man. I know what I am doing. I have spent innumerable hours in the woods. So off - an in - I go.

Permit me to pause here and digress for a moment. Prior to this specific endeavor I had already audited another cemetery. This one containing the extended family of an individual who married into one of my lines back in the late 1800s. It was relatively easy to find as someone has been maintaining it. Though I did take time to log that there are clearly 9 additional children's graves and three adult graves with only field stones. Doing some research on the family led me to conclude who one of the graves almost certainly belongs to. So I updated the records accordingly. So I had already been tramping in the heat for a good hour before going after the Smith Cemetery. Fatigue level is not too high, but I have exerted myself for a bit at this point. Bear that in mind as we continue. 

I will share more on that front separately as there is more than a little something hinky in that place.

Now back to our current tale.

By and large the going was not too hard. The hunters have cut many tracks through the area to both access their stands and get their kills out. Sweet! Less pushing through the briars and bush (of which there was plenty). Still, all this entails stopping every few yards to reorient myself and stay on the general path to the recorded cemetery location. Add in to the mix that the ground is far from level and there are a few creeks and ravines or gullies to traverse. These mean finding a safe and wise place to cross each one. Often this means travelling wider afield than the straight line course then making my way back on track.

Given how remote and alone I am at the moment I made a greater than reasonable effort to not trip, fall, or otherwise have a mishap. If I go down there is no getting help and no one to find anything except my remains some months from now. Progress was slow.

Did I mention this is later in the afternoon? No? Well keep that in mind.

I did manage to locate the cemetery and photograph the two headstones. The cemetery itself though was much larger. Something on the size of the footprint of a small house. There are clearly dozens of graves here, though unmarked. And one is obviously from the 1920s to 1940s because it had a temporary marker with the burial details written on a paper card behind a glass plate.

Had. 

The glass was broken and the card long gone. Only the metal marker remained. And these markers date from about the 1920s on through the 1940s or 1950s. Alas, this person, like all those who lay about him or her, is lost to time. In theory there would be a record of the burial at the funeral home that handled the burial. In practical terms that is seldom the case as the funeral home may be out of business and/or the records in some long term off-site storage site and they are less than willing to pull them and identify the deceased.

Having done all I could do for the day I started making my way back to the car. Being who and what I am, I opted to take a parallel track out rather than trying to precisely retrace my steps. 

Something I had not reckoned on was that I did not have the GPS coordinates for my starting point nor did I have a way to retrieve them. Dead zone - no signal, remember?

No problem. I can make my way out, no sweat.

Correction. Lot's of sweat. It was warm and fat guys leak under such conditions. A lot we leak.

Somehow I managed to overshoot my major turn point by about a quarter mile. Fortunately this is almost all while following those hunting paths so the exertion was not as bad. Unfortunately this was in the last hours of daylight meaning that if I did not get to the car soon then I would be tramping in the woods after dark.

And I left the flashlight in the car.

Cue Alan Sherman singing about Camp Granada. "... where I might get eaten by a bear." Ok. There aren't bears in the area. But I AM rather thirsty. The water is in the car, and I would rather not spend the night in the woods. I came across a hunting camp consisting of three campers closed up for the year and resolve that worst case I shoot the lock off one and use it for shelter for the night.

Not gonna lie. When I first saw the campers I had visions of a Meth operation. Such was the seclusion of the site and the ... cultural ...  nature of the overall area that a Meth Lab would not be a surprise whatsoever.

But emergency shelter for the night was not necessary. I backtrack and follow a road-ish stretch out. A few hundred yards out I spot familiar landmarks and know precisely how to get back to the car from there. Without more woods or brush. 

Unfortunately there is a good half mile between me and the car at this point. 

Fortunately I had a LOT of cold water in the car to slake my thirst. It took a few minutes sitting in the car with the AC running, sipping water, before I was in fit shape to drive my sorry ass home.

Maybe a satellite phone would be a good investment......

Lost and Found

There is an old adage about being lost in a crowd. I had never thought about applying it to graves in a cemetery. 

Forgotten in a maintained cemetery. It is a thing. I learned of it today. I suppose I have known it all along. Or at least have seen it even if I hadn't actually consciously realized it at the time.

To explain I should backtrack some. 

As I have mentioned in prior chapters, I inherited the family genealogy some time back. Having pretty much hit a brick wall on every ancestor branch at one level or another I decided to push out and research all the various branches and sub branches - all the aunts, uncles, and cousins. Even those seriously far afield. You can appreciate how many thousands of people this has turned into with many more thousands to research.

I have a 'thing' for research and logic. This can be the mental equivalent of eating potato chips. Easy to start and hard to stop. And about as detrimental to one's health,

Last night - just for some light mental exercise mind you - I was perusing a census from the 1800s. I was looking at who lived around one of my ancestors at the time. One thing led to another and I realized that I was seeing names that applied to a semi-forgotten cemetery in the area. I had noted it before, but had not make the effort to go investigate it.

This lead to the realization that one of my distant female cousins had married into that family! She was one of the branches I had not yet attacked. Her and her sister.

Down the rabbit hole I go.

Several hours later and I have fleshed out a lot of both sisters marriages and children. More of that in a moment.

A bit more background:

A year or so back I found some of TW's kin's (distant uncle, aunt, cousin and her husband) graves in Hollywood Cemetery in Atlanta. Our trip there to locate the graves also led us to another cemetery a few yards down the road from Hollywood Cemetery: Magnolia Cemetery. 

Naturally this meant we had to explore Magnolia, too.

Unlike Hollywood which has only about 15% of its space under "Perpetual Care" leaving the remaining acreage - substantial acreage - essentially abandoned and overgrown, Magnolia is about 97-99% perpetual care. I use these percentages for Magnolia because there are clearly graves around the borders that are not cared for as is the majority of the property. Whereas the main grounds are mowed and (to a lesser extent) trimmed, the border is being allowed to encroach on the graves there. 

Back to last night.

Well sumbitch. Doing that research last night reveals that I have a cousin in Magnolia! Sadly, he had never been recorded in Find A Grave. His wife had been. But he is listed in a book of all cemeteries and graves in the region done by a local historian in the 1930s, so he clearly had a headstone at the time.

Back to present day. Time to go looking for my cousin!

Today was another gorgeous day. Well, except for the lingering fog of pollen. I hate the taste if pollen. At this time of year you really can taste it. We are off tombstone tromping.

I noted earlier how the borders of Magnolia are not so well maintained. Well, the whole site could do with a higher grade of maintenance. I realize that it is not really the cemetery's responsibility, but I still wish that it would take on the effort to do things like reset fallen markers. More on that in a moment.

Those ill maintained border sections? I spotted a relatively recent burial literally back in the bushes surrounded by obvious unmarked graves. 

Bizarre.

We have no idea what kind of marker my cousin and his wife might have. Or even if they have one at all. This means a concentrated gird search of each and every marker. Row by row and section by section. The cemetery has a mixture of headstone types, too. Some are upright, others flat. Stone mixed with bronze. Uprights are easy as you can read most of them at a distance. 

The flats are another matter entirely.

We quickly realized that our search was going to be much harder than we anticipated. A vast number of the flat headstones are literally hidden! These images should give you a good idea of what we found (or could not find in so many cases). 

Sometimes the only indication of a headstone or marker is dead or discolored grass.

Not having time or the tools necessary, I reverted to kicking the encroaching grass off the marker in order to read the name and dates.

A frightening number of these are deeply sunken into the soil. Obviously no family is visiting and tending the grave. Nor is the cemetery doing anything to preserve them. Hell, it is easier to run the mower over such spots.

Lost in a crowd. The cemetery is not exactly forgotten, but so, so many of these graves are. 

What shocked me more, I think, was that so many of these are VERY recent burials. As in less than 10 years old. That makes me wonder if the cemetery is deliberately getting them installed so deep.

About halfway through the cemetery I decide there are simply too many unmarked or 'hidden' markers to make finding the two we were searching virtually impossible to find. If they even existed in the first place. So I call 'no joy' and abandon the search. We opt to wander about for a few minutes to simply look at the artwork.

Son of a ....! There is his marker. And I suppose the one next to it, face down in the dirt, is his wife. It has the same shape as his.

I may just have to come back with the D/2 and work on this one. Bet it would be impressive once cleaned of almost a century of grime. 

It would take a lot of effort and the right heavy tools to reset her marker! That sucker is probably close to half a ton.

So end the end, mission accomplished. I will take the win.

Rambling through the cemetery something drew my eye. I can't say for certain what or why, though I can speculate that the combination of a photo and the same birth and death year caught my sub-conscious.

July to December 1941. 5 and a half months. Not much time for photographs. And looking closely the infant's eyes are closed. 

Just damn. Losing a child two weeks after the US is plunged into war. Life can be cruel.

I feel pretty confident that this is a post-mortem photograph. The only image these parents would ever have of their son. I know the practice was common in the 19th century. This, though, is perhaps the latest example I have personally encountered.

All in all a sobering day seeing many things we have never seen before.