Trying To See Orting Through The Eyes Of Elias

[Elias and Erin nap. Erin has a cold.]

Behind my back, twenty-three miles east south-east, sits Mount Rainier. The second day we were here, the sun set into the Pacific Ocean and bathed Rainier in the most spectacular alpen-glow I’ve seen in years. We had a few days of clear weather. Today, it is rainy and cloudy. Kind of the usual for this time of year.

This is the view that my grandson, Elias has grown up with.

[Mariam, Erin and Elias.]

Yesterday, Mariam, Erin, Elias and I made the walk to the Kindergarten, where Elias is taught by Mrs. Misner helped by Miss Jo.

I walk behind the three of them…Elian, his grandma and his mom. I feel old, achy. Like a grandfather.¬†We walk slowly back to home.

[Clam Guns. I never knew such things existed]

I ask to stop and visit the local sporting goods store. I needed shoelaces.

I always follow behind on the walk back home.

[Elias escapes the car seat after a shopping visit with his dad, Bob.}

[And of course, Rainier}

 

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Autumn And Gravestones

[Sitting and thinking at Forest Cemetery, St. Regis Falls, NY.]

Now that there is six inches of fresh snow on the ground and the trees are bare and the world outside our picture window is monochromatic, I can admit that I miss the late summer, the coolness of autumn days and the color of the trees.

I’ll also miss my favorite cemeteries. The best time of year to roam the country graveyards has come and gone. I’ll have to wait until mid-summer, after the mud and the bugs, until I can go “graving” again.

Does it all sound morbid to you? Too melancholy? It shouldn’t. I enjoy old cemeteries where I can learn local history and make up life stories of those who are interred beneath my feet.

And I have a perfectly good reason to wander the burying grounds. I am a volunteer photographer for Find-A-Grave.com. I get requests from people who live in places like Iowa and Nebraska asking for a photo of their grandfather’s headstone, or a memorial to an aunt’s grave they will never visit…never have a chance to leave a flower or a penny on the gravestone. They reply in emails how glad they are to have such a photo. It helps them build their family trees on Ancestry.com or some other genealogy site. Or (as they have written), share the photo with a grandchild, son, niece or spouse.

I love doing this for these people. I ask for nothing in return, except for a simple “thank you”.

Every human has a story that tells of their lives, even those who have been buried 150 years ago. I’ve stood over the graves and photographed headstones of suicides, murder victims, children who lived two days and men and women who lived to their 90+ years. I’ve wept over the graves of people whose families could only manage a hand-made headstone made of poured concrete and wrote the name and death dates with their fingers.

So many stories. So many headstones. So many epitaphs. So much grief.

But, time heals those wounds…they say.