I don’t plan to be buried, but with only a quarter of a century under my belt I understand that this postmortem view may one day change. I’ve always had a strong affinity for cemeteries. Much, if not all, of this morbid affection comes from my current (and preferred) role as a living participant in the graveyard game. I read the names, calculate the dates, and weave a story out of the size, shape, and design of the headstone that a former living and breathing individual chose for the very purpose of being remembered. Eastern Europeans – most often Russians – usually include a sketch or a photograph of themselves on the grave in order to help guide this very process of imagining.
My favorite tombstone accessory is the bench. To me, the inclusion of a graveside seat is a gesture of irreversible boldness, an open-ended invitation for any human being to share the only remaining space in the world that the deceased still occupies. It takes the unpredictability of a blind date, an elevator ride, a bus stop bench, to an entirely different level. All the living knows of the dead is that s/he was once alive. And, somehow, in some ethereal and cosmic way, the dynamic between what is and what was affords some sort of unnameable closeness between the dead and the conscious stranger who chose to sit down and think about the possibility of a life once lived.
I could go on and on about what I consider to be the unique wonder of the cemetery. But, for everyone’s benefit, I will cut the musings short and recommend a more tangible experience: the Lone Fir Cemetery tour at 10am on the first Saturday of every month in Portland, Oregon. Meet in the center of the cemetery at the soldiers’ monument, wander around 30.5 acres of trees and tombstones with a couple dozen curious quirky folks, and listen to historical facts and stories narrated by a volunteer of Friends of Lone Fir Cemetery. From the first burial in 1846 to the current memorial initiatives for nineteenth century Chinese workers and asylum patients, the history of a city and its people comes to life.
While Lone Fir is home to over 25,000 graves, the cemetery’s website lists the name, location, and background of its “100 Notable Residents.” Visit Asa Lovejoy, the founder of the Rose City who lost the coin toss responsible for naming Portland (Block 8M/Lot 50/2N). Stop at the tombstone of Emma Merlotin (Block 20/Lot 18/2S), a murdered prostitute whose eyes were removed for a forensic investigation intended to unearth the image of her killer. Consider the 200+ patients of Dr. J.C. Hawthorne, founder of the Oregon Hospital for the Insane, whose wooden markers have long since deteriorated. Maybe even sneak a drink with James Frush, the 1st Street Salon keeper whose tombstone boasts an urn that was once used to make toasts at his beloved bar on Christmas day (Block 2/Lot 16/3S). Or, at the suggestion of Lone Fir volunteers, have a little picnic on cemetery grounds.
More than 150 years ago, there was one tree at the Lone Fir Cemetery. Today, there are over 600 – each planted on a grave in remembrance of a loved one and now home to over 65 bird species. There’s so much life at Lone Fir. I encourage you to go out and learn it.
Photo Image by Pete Forsyth via Wikipedia. Tombstone featured: James and Elizabeth Stephens, donors of the land for Lone Fir.