Intermission: Wordle fun

There is a heat advisory today. Maybe not the best afternoon for a graveyard hop. Better to pursue indoor activities—like creating a Wordle!

A what? According to the Wordle home page, “Wordle is a toy for generating ‘word clouds’ from text that you provide.”

Here is my personal surname Wordle, with locations added, just for fun:

I gave the Wordle maker the URL for this blog, and it promptly generated this Wordle:

Don’t let my conservative, gray-toned word clouds fool you. You customize the font, colors, layout. The font I chose for my Wordles is “Powell Antique,” which seems just right for genealogy, history, and such. Of course, since this is a gravestone blog, I favor the color palette “Ghostly.”

Give it a try, but don’t say I didn’t warn you: Wordle can be addicting.

Thank you to Twitter buddy @genwishlist for the surname cloud idea.

A trio of uniquely personal gravestones

Do the Phillips gravestones reveal a family penchant for gravestone carving?

Charles Phillips (1882-1936) and Ellen

Elizabeth Phillips (1855-1919)

Maloney S. Phillips (1826-1896)
Sara Ellen Phillips (1867-1888)

Oller Cemetery, Delaware County, Ohio

The willow and the rose

Among the old stones in Cheshire Cemetery, Delaware County, Ohio, is the double marker for brother and sister, Anson Benton and Orminda Benton, whose births—and early deaths—were separated by years.

ANSON
son of
SAMUEL & MINERVA BENTON
died Nov 27,
1826
aged 7 days.

ORMINDA
daughter of
SAMUEL & MINERVA BENTON
died at Bristol, N.Y.
July 24,
1809
aged 1 year, 5 mo. & 5 days.
Look carefully at the gravestone to see a bit of individuality, most likely based on gender: His side bears an urn and willow; hers, a rose. 

They share an epitaph, a slightly modified version of Epitaph on an Infant by Samuel Taylor Coleridge:

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care,
The opening buds to Heav’n convey’d,
And bade them blossom there.

The poem, written for a single child, actually ends with the line “And bade it blossom there.”

Wednesday’s child: Garrett triplets

No lambs or doves or sentimental epitaphs. It is a small, simple gravestone:

TRIPLET BOYS OF
A.C. & C.M. GARRETT
AUG. 11. SEPT. 25. 1914

Did the Garret boys have given names? According to a ohiogravestones.org, yes they did. The State of Ohio Death Index backs it up:

Charles Garrett (d. Sep. 25, 1914)
Leeland Garrett (d. Aug. 11, 1914)
William Garrett (d. Sep. 25, 1914)

Groveport Cemetery, Franklin Co., OH

Acclaimed Pilgrim

During a recent impromptu photo stroll through the Townhouse section of Cheshire Cemetery in Delaware County, Ohio, I came upon a large tablet gravestone beside the northern boundary fence. A first glance, I thought I read James Halbert, Acclaimed Pilgrim and stopped for a closer look.

Here rests the
remains of
James Halbert
A colored Pilgrim
died Aug. 1851
Aged 90 Yrs. 
There was a long, difficult-to-decipher epitaph as well. I did not have all my “tools” with me (including my reading skills, it would seem), and so reluctantly I left.

The following day I returned with aluminum foil to use as a mirror. Would that make it easier to read? Yes. Was it worth the extra trip? Yes again.

Around his death bed
no pomp or show was seen
Nor friend to ease his
pain or cool his head
But all alone save his God
and conscience clear
he died & his cabbin [sic] floor
his bed
But now he has companions
holy, pure and bright
His hope and trust was in
The God of right.

Wednesday’s child: Why?

Frieda Louise Hamler (1921)
Groveport Cemetery, Franklin Co., OH

Not long ago I tweeted my indecision about continuing my weekly blog series, Wednesday’s child, thinking it was just too sad.

We all feel sadness when we think about the death of a child, but what makes me even more sad is the thought that these children are no one’s ancestors. No one’s great grandfather, no one’s great grandmother. Is anyone looking for them?

I don’t know, but I will look for them and honor them with my little blog–every Wednesday.

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath Day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

Aunt Mildred (b. 1914, d. 1915)

Going... going... soon gone

Last month I quoted Leona Gustafson from a 2002 article in The Columbus Dispatch, speaking about the impermanence gravestones, “Every one of them, eventually, will be gone.”

Even in a well maintained cemetery, Mother Nature (sometimes aided by vandals) exerts a powerful force. Do not doubt that the markers you see today will surely be gone someday.

The lesson here is obvious: If you have photos of gravestones in your family history collection, remember to record and share the inscriptions. Consider sharing the photos and the inscriptions on findagrave.com or your state’s USGenWeb tombstone transcription page.

Family historians like you, today’s and tomorrow’s, will thank you.

Photo of unknown grave, Powell Cemetery, Delaware County, Ohio.

Catherine’s coffin

In 1809, Catherine G. Richardson (b. 1787, d. 1809) was laid to rest under a coffin-shaped grave marker. Such markers are not common in these parts, so yesterday I visited Groveport Cemetery in Franklin County, Ohio to see it for myself.

The original inscription is no longer fully legible—just a word here and there—but it is recorded on a newer marker placed at the foot of the coffin.

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
CATHERINE G. CONSORT OF JOHN G. RICHARDSON M.D.
AND DAUGHTER OF CAPTAIN ISAAC BOWMAN
ALL NATIVES OF SHENANDOAH COUNTY, VIRGINIA
BORN DECEMBER 23, 1787
DEPARTED THIS LIFE JANUARY 19, 1809 AGED 22 YEARS

Normally cemeteries do not spook me, and Groveport was no exception. It feels like a park, perhaps because it is adjacent to a city park.

But Catherine’s coffin marker spooked me just a bit. Must have been the scary, Halloween-y images that an old-fashioned coffin shape evokes. That and the dark, thunder-threatening skies adding to the atmosphere gave me the slightest of chills.

Then I paused to read her epitaph carefully. Catherine, like any other young wife who died too early, had been loved and mourned. No one can feel fright of any sort in the presence of such a strong symbol of love, grief, and hope.

OH FAIREST FLOWER, THY FAILING BREATH IS GONE, THE SENSE TO PLEASE NO MORE.
THE ICY WITHERING HAND OF DEATH HAS RIFLED ALL THY FRAGRANT STORE.
CALM BE THY REST, SWEET AS THE SLUMBERS OF A SAINT
AND MILD AS THE OPENING GLEAMS OF PROMISED HEAVEN.

Wednesday’s child: Samantha

Samantha E.
daughter of
W. & L. Smith,
died Feb. 19,
1846; aged 8 ys.
2 mo. 8 ds.
I realized only after returning home that I did not have photos of the gravestones for Samantha’s parents, W. & L. Smith, who may be at Shoup-Thompson Cemetery also. (There is a William and a Lucinda there who are the right age to be her parents.) Nor are they listed on findagrave.com. Looks like another trip to Shoup-Thompson belongs on my to-do list.

Shoup-Thompson Cemetery, Delaware County, Ohio