Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,

Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,

Each in his narrow cell forever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

~~Thomas Gray “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” 1891

What? What is this, you say, my gentle reader. A blog about an avocation that involves cemeteries? How very depressing.

But, I would respectfully disagree. Cemeteries, especially old ones that have interesting symbolism carved into the slate, or granite or black marble of the headstones are fascinating. Many cemeteries that were designed in the Nineteenth century were intended to be places where family members could spend the day amid places of beauty. Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn is the best example I can think of. A more local example would be Evergreen, in Owego. As I write this, I can see that cemetery through the window of my office. And the epitaphs (for those who were wealthy enough to pay for that extra add-on). They are brief poems that remind us of our mortality.

Yes, I loved cemeteries, old and new. I find that they are not places to feel dread, but to meditate on the joys of life.

I confess…I am a Taphophile.

Although epitaphs are not the subject of this post, I thought I might include a few that I find interesting, and sometimes, moving.

There shall be no darkness

nor dazzling

but one equal light; no noise

nor silence

but one equal music.

Or,

What we love we remember

And of course, my absolute favorite epitaph:

[Reputed to be one of the longest epitaphs in the USA. It’s found in Evergreen Cemetery, Owego, NY. Photo is mine.]

But I digress.

This post is intended to share my hobby.

What I am unable to tell you is how it all began. I can say that one day, 14 years, 5 months and 6 days ago, I wandered into a cemetery in the Adirondacks (where we lived at the time) and began taking photos of headstones. I became a volunteer photographer for Find-a-Grave.com. I would select a number of local cemeteries and mark them as My Favorites. Within a day I was getting (in my email) requests to photograph a particular headstone. The request would originate with someone who desired such a photo because they were unable to visit the grave of, say, an Aunt Marie. I would get the request through Find-a-Grave (FAG). I would then go to the cemetery and locate the last resting place of Aunt Marie. I would upload the photo to FAG and they would send an email to the requesting person informing that Patrick Egan fulfilled said request. Sometimes I would get a Thank You email. Some of these emails were quite heartfelt, saying how grateful that they could now see Aunt Marie’s stone. Often the request was for help in building a family tree where accurate birth and death dates were important.

[Some merch. Photo is mine.]

I had a backpack (my FAG kit). In it was, among other things, a notebook, a few pens and pencils, a whisk broom (for obvious reasons), a dowel sharpened to a point (to clean lettering of moss & lichen, insect repellent, gloves, a house plant mist sprayer (to highlight the lettering on certain stones) and a clipboard with a printout of the cemetery’s requests.

[A recent request sheet I carried recently. Photo is mine.]

Back home I would pull out my log book and record the day’s fulfilled requests. I was careful to keep the information accurate because, on occasion, someone would ask for another photo of an adjacent grave.

[My Find-a-Grave log book. Yes, the photo of the guy on the cover is yours truly. I recall when Mariam took the picture. It was a beautiful fall day, my favorite time to “go graving”. Photo is mine.]

So that is how I often spend a fine day, roaming old graveyards and helping people connect in some way with a relative or loved one. In those fourteen years I have photographed the headstones of suicides, a murder victim, a world famous tennis player, close friends, family members and complete strangers. I have been in cemeteries in the rain and snow. I have located graves by the headlights of my car.

To date, I have taken pictures of 1,600 gravesites. And, it pleases me to know that someone living in Ashtabula or Anchorage, who for some reason can not stand by a certain grave, can now see the physical surroundings of someone they loved.

{Note: If any of my readers have wondered how to get a photo of a grave, I suggest that you register with Find-a-Grave.com (it’s free), and make a request. I will, hopefully, get that in my email and, weather permitting, find the grave in question.}