I often view cemeteries as little towns for the deceased, many times wonder what it would feel like to live nearby. I lack the ability to communicate with the dead, wanted so bad to communicate and dream of my mom, but that has only happened once or twice since she passed. Some of my sisters are more fortunate, as my second sister often dreams of my mom, as if she were still alive and well, this I would give anything to be able to do.
Some of these cemeteries are the resting places of many famous people; I grew up in Queens NY which is known as the Cemetery Belt because there are more than 5 millions of the departed, including the famous and the infamous from Mae West to Lucky Luciano, almost triple the live population of Queens are buried in 29 Queens cemeteries, as one could imagine how crowded Queens is.
Then I came across a cemetery in Barre, Vermont, a town known as the Granite Capital of the World, as Hope cemetery presents a rich and distinguished history of memorial art in stone, one of the oldest expressions of American Culture. For these reasons, Hope exerts a profound influence on the memorial art of other cemeteries throughout the country.
Hope Cemetery, first opened in 1895, is 85-acres spread across a hillock of well-manicured grass. Despite the variety of memorial design, there is a uniformity not seen in other cemeteries. That’s because every one of the 10,000+ monuments is made of Barre Gray granite.
The cemetery is a popular tourist destination, oft bundled with Rock of Ages quarry tours. Visitors can stroll the grounds and pay their respects to older sculptures, or ponder more contemporary works, such as an enigmatic cube balanced on one corner. Below are beautiful sculptures…that art lovers will definitely enjoy.
A half-size replica of race car #61 celebrates local driver Joey Laquerre, Jr, who died in a 1991 snowmobile mishap.
“The Empty Chair.” Perhaps future Bettinis will eternally rest beneath “The Plasma TV.”
Hobbies of the dead are remembered, with a soccer ball.
Brusa’s own grave features a strange sculpture of “The Dying Man,” slipping away, held by his wife.
by: William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)
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O him who in the love of Nature holds
- Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
- A various language; for his gayer hours
- She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
- And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
- Into his darker musings, with a mild
- And healing sympathy, that steals away
- Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
- Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
- Over thy spirit, and sad images
- Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
- And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
- Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;–
- Go forth, under the open sky, and list
- To Nature’s teachings, while from all around–
- Earth and her waters, and the depths of air–
- Comes a still voice–Yet a few days, and thee
- The all-beholding sun shall see no more
- In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
- Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
- Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
- Thy image. Earth, that nourish’d thee, shall claim
- Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
- And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
- Thine individual being, shalt thou go
- To mix for ever with the elements,
- To be a brother to the insensible rock,
- And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
- Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
- Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
- Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
- Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
- Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
- With patriarchs of the infant world–with kings,
- The powerful of the earth–the wise, the good,
- Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
- All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
- Rock-ribb’d and ancient as the sun,–the vales
- Stretching in pensive quietness between;
- The venerable woods; rivers that move
- In majesty, and the complaining brooks
- That make the meadows green; and, pour’d round all,
- Old Ocean’s grey and melancholy waste,–
- Are but the solemn decorations all
- Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
- The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
- Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
- Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
- The globe are but a handful to the tribes
- That slumber in its bosom.–Take the wings
- Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
- Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
- Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound
- Save his own dashings–yet the dead are there:
- And millions in those solitudes, since first
- The flight of years began, have laid them down
- In their last sleep–the dead reign there alone.
- So shalt thou rest: and what if thou withdraw
- In silence from the living, and no friend
- Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
- Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
- When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
- Plod on, and each one as before will chase
- His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
- Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
- And make their bed with thee. As the long train
- Of ages glides away, the sons of men,
- The youth in life’s green spring, and he who goes
- In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
- The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man–
- Shall one by one be gathered to thy side
- By those who in their turn shall follow them.
- So live, that when thy summons comes to join
- The innumerable caravan which moves
- To that mysterious realm where each shall take
- His chamber in the silent halls of death,
- Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
- Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain’d and soothed
- By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
- Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
- About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Cemeteries use to really spook me out, but now I am at peace when I drive pass them.
I wonder why Hope Cemetery decide to use only Barre Gray granite. Is it because they want it to be more uniform or is that the type of rock people prefer? Interesting selection of photos.
they use only Barre Gray Granite because Hope Cemetery is in Barre, duh. It wasn’t always the rule, but later become one as the cemetery became a tourist destination.
Libby, thanks for your visit and comment. I think it’s more obvious for the local, but I guess we were just curious as to why only Gray Granite, why not other colors when most cemetery allow you to select the color that you want, just a thought.
Hi Salat, I’m not certain as to why they only use Barre Gray granite, might be that it’s the natural resource of the town. I think the Barre Gray granite is the cheapest (still expensive IMO) comparing to other colors, this is based on my observation when I purchased a name plate for my mom, gray granite was the cheapest and black and red are more expensive.
It’s been so long since I read this in High School and College, many years ago. But not until now do I appreciate and comprehend what words, when properly composed, can really do to the soul. I can picture Anne Shirley reciting these lines as she wondered through the woods, or lying on a skiff predending to be dead; actually it’s kind of similar to “The Highwayman” poem she recited at White Sands Hotel, the idea of death that is, well somewhat.
“All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.”
We cannot escape it, but must do in life what we deem best so that when our time comes, we may go gently…and accept, It is time. I hope there is more than just a ‘pleasant dream,’ the universe is so so…the thought of not experiencing or seeing other parts of it just seems useless. I have this notion that our soul becomes like a beam of light and we can go anywhere and everywhere in a mere thought:))…the closest analogy would be kind of like ‘Calcifer, the fire-demon’ in Howl’s Moving Castle, but of course smaller and faster, undetectable by the human eyes or consciousness.
PaNoy, I like hearing Anne recited her line, she has such a vivid imagination and that’s what I love about her. It’s been a while since I watched the movie, I need to watch it again when I have more time.
I think your comparison to Calcifer is a good one. One never really know what would happen after we die, but we all have faith that there is something there, as for most, something beautiful worth looking forward to, but I can’t say that I feel that way, since my mom’s death, I don’t like to think or talk about dying. 😦