FOTD: Old stones with fall foliage – a Revolutionary War cemetery

The cemetery is in the center of the town, across from the dam and just a hundred or so yards from the river itself. It’s up on a hill, so it never floods, even when the rivers rush over their banks. The people who created that cemetery knew about the rivers. And flooding. They picked a beautiful spot, but dry and safe for the bones and memories.

An old cemetery, dating back to the early 1700s. It contains the generations of those who lived and died in this town, this valley. Folks who lived along the Blackstone and its tributaries, fished in its lakes and streams. They fought in our wars and are buried here. Revolutionary War soldiers of whom there are a surprisingly large number. Civil War veterans and some of those who fought in the many American wars fought in the years since then though I think the most recent graves are from World War II. Some family may have plots they can continue to use, but I’m not sure.

The cemetery is not neglected. Always there are flags waving above it with small flags by in the graves of those who fought in wars back to the Revolutionary War. Schools bring children here so they can remember too and will perhaps continue the traditions. They bring bouquets of wild flowers or flowers from their garden and typically, a small flag. Even if there’s no special holiday, the cemetery always shows signs of caring. Maybe it’s easier to remember in a small town or maybe it’s part of the character of the region.

Remembering seems to be what we do best in the Valley.

The cemetery is one of our favorite places. We’re virtual newcomers having lived here just 22 years. Our ancestors — Garry’s and mine — come from Sligo, Antigua, Minsk, and Bialystok. We came from tiny villages in Ireland and the West Indies and the shtetls of eastern Europe.

Real valley people have been here longer. Many came from French Canada in the late 19th century to work in the mills. Another large group formed the dominant Dutch population. All of them built churches, businesses, factories, dairy and truck farms, shops, horse farms and sawmills. Their names are prominent wherever the river runs.

The valley is the only place I’ve lived where the most families have lived in this town or in nearby villages for three, four or five generations. “We’ve always lived in the Valley,” they say, meaning as long as anyone can remember. They get misty-eyed trying to remember old family stories handed down when they were young. Hard to remember, they tell you. “You know, that was 75 years ago. A long time.”

We nod because it was a long time ago. These days, I commiserate. I have trouble remembering details of events of childhood, things I was sure I could never forget. Some things stand out better than others, but many others are vague and pieces are missing. Garry, the old Marine, never forgets.

So another year passes. The flags wave while autumn leaves glow.

Categories: #FallFoliage, #foliage, #GarryArmstrong, #Photography, Anecdote, Autumn, Blackstone Valley, Mumford River, Uxbridge

Tags: #AutumnInNewEngland, #FallFoliage, #gallery, #Photography, Garry Armstrong, Marilyn Armstrong