Photographing old grave markers, indeed entire cemeteries, is an important part of recording our genealogical history and preserving fragile markers which will someday be lost. There are stones too degraded and broken to be read in countless old burial grounds and cemeteries and more will become so over time. Normal wear from the elements isn’t the only factor; pollution, neglect, livestock, and even vandalism take a toll on grave markers.
I have participated in organized cemetery clean-ups that ranged from removing black mold and lichen from stones (using approved biologically suitable applications and cleaning methods) to clearing overgrowth of weeds, vines, brambles, saplings, and underbrush. The photo below is in Thomas Lincoln Cemetery (Abraham Lincoln’s father Thomas and his step-mother Sarah Bush Lincoln are buried here). What is shown in this photo are stones at the base of an aged cedar that were completely hidden by maple trees, periwinkle vine, and years’ worth of detritus before the clean-up.
With all the forces that play a long-term part in a stone’s demise, there are the unexpected ones as well.
On September 10, 2016, I went to Lost Grove Cemetery in central Illinois as a volunteer to search for and photograph two markers for a distant family member researching her ancestors. On arrival, the devastation was astonishing.
The very day before, Lost Grove was directly hit by a tornado. Lost Grove contains markers from the early 19th century up to the 1960's when burials ceased. Stones, large and small, were scattered throughout the grass like wooden blocks left out by a child after playtime. A swirling, circular pattern was carved across the adjoining fields; its path clearly visible approaching, cutting through, and leaving the cemetery.
The southern side was hit hardest. Enormous stones were lifted from their plinths and stabbed into the earth at awkward angles. Rows of obelisks were lying in the grass, neatly lined up: stones on the south side fell to the east and stones on the north side fell to the west in relation to the rotation of the tornado. All that remained of one very old stone was a pile of limestone dust with a few pitiful chips slung out in a half moon shape as the massive weight of an obelisk crashed directly on top of it.
Four cedars had been stripped of their bark like bananas, snapped off, bundled into a wild tangle, and deposited in a twisted pile. The mausoleum’s decorative corners and carved stones in place for 115 years were ripped off.
After the initial shock of seeing the damage eased, I searched for the ones I was charged with locating. I couldn’t find them. Whether they had been lost previously or were among the wreckage from the previous day’s storm, I don’t know.
The cemetery has mostly been put to rights now and this summer I will return to search again and hope I find the stones I was looking for then. Photograph what you can, when you can.
What a sad story. There is something quite lovely about visiting the resting site of a family loved one… even if you never knew them.