The rest of the trip home I kept thinking about getting to that cemetery, and hoping that there would be photo opportunities. It was hard for me to sleep as I tried to imagine what lay waiting for me on this hallowed ground. Old cemeteries are special to me for the history that they hold and for the images I have been able to harvest from them. Sleep finally smothered out my spinning mind and I slept deeply. The next day, I went about my business like any other day off. Lots of photo editing and writing. I didn't have to supervise my girls because they were staying with my wife's parents. My wife and I decided to go find the cemetery after she got home from work, and I was ready and waiting for her as she pulled into the drive. I pleaded with her to hurry, so there would still be some good light left. My father had stopped by and decided to tag along as well. Soon we were on the road and following the directions my brother had given me. We ended up on a winding gravel road that sent waves of white, chalky dust rolling into the corn fields as we drove. Up ahead we could see a small entrance that looked like the one my brother had told me about. Turning in cautiously we saw the cemetery sitting up on top of a hill, but it didn't look safe to drive up due to the grading work that had recently been done. We parked the car and walked the steep hill up to where the cemetery started. There were a multitude of headstones that were leaning against various trees as there were with out a place to mark a grave. Over time, they had been knocked down my trampling livestock, or careless humans all the while the earth was determined to claim this sacred place and pull all references down into its depths.
In spite of the disarray, it was quite beautiful to see all of that history skillfully carved out by skilled hands onto the cold stone markers. Peace washed over me as the setting sun bathed the landscape in glowing orange waves of light and the shadows danced at the approach of evening. Immediately we set out to find the special headstone with our family name on it. First, I found the head stone of the Civil war soldier that my brother had spoken about and this is the image that I used for today. Party because I want to honor the fallen from our country's wars, but also so I can stay super secret. My hope was that it would be one of them that was in the proper place. Not long into the search, I spied a headstone that had fallen backwards out of its base and was resting on the soft grass. Walking around to stand in front of it; I saw my surname etched out with perfection in marble laying before me. It was good to see that the head stone was not far from where it should be, and I knew I was standing near departed family. Her name was Charity and she was the wife of John who had my last name. She died on August 6th, 1867 at the young age of twenty four and we found her only four days from what would be here one hundred forty-third birthday. My father and I decided to lift up the stone and place it back into its base, so that it would be easier for me to photograph. Plus, I felt better seeing it standing erect where it was supposed to be. I was able to get some good shots of it, and I tried to make something artful out of the experience. Suddenly a white truck turned into the entrance and began to drive slowly over the bumpy ground right up to where we were all standing. Nobody spoke, but I was thinking to myself, "Great, we are going to be arrested for trespassing". Instead out of the truck came a kind and determined man walking over to us. He spoke as he came near. "Beautiful isn't it", he said. "Whew", I thought to myself and replied, "It sure is". He introduced himself as Chris and I stuck out my hand as I told him mine, my father's, and my wives. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, he graciously began to share some information that he had about this cemetery and some other he had already completed. This was the man my brother was telling me about. For the short time we were there it was clear that he had his work cut out for him in attempting to restore this special place to what it once was years ago. He was off to a good start, and I hoped to have time upon it's completion to return and get my lens around it.
At some point I told him that my brother had informed about this place and how he had found a tombstone with my family name on it. Upon mentioning my brother he immediately knew of him. My brother is well known in these parts, actually he is well known all over, and for good reason. He is quite like something out of a story book, a man's man with a love for life, family, and the great outdoors. I'm quite happy to have an older brother like him, and he is one of my hero's. Anyway, the conversation turned to my family name and Chris began to explain to me that Charity was the grand-daughter of Charity Sortore who was also buried there as well. That didn't seem exciting until he told me when she was alive during the Revolutionary war, and how long she lived. Charity Sortore was born in Hopewell, NJ on May 20th, 1762 and lived to be ninety four years old. She was married to Hendrick (Henry) Sortore who fought in the war of independence and is buried in Friendship, NY. There is a picture of his tombstone online by cutting and pasting this link at the end of this blog into your browser. Here I was standing in this sacred place taking to a stranger about family I never knew I had, and there was a connection back to the birth of our country. Obviously, I understood that some of my relatives would have been around even farther back than the war for independence, but to suddenly learn their names and to be standing practically on the place where they were laid to rest was exciting. Chris proceeded to tell me that he had information from a genealogist that told of Charity Sorter talking about hearing George Washington's cannons at the battle of Princeton, and that his army camped in her father Nathanael Stout's field. All I could think was "WOW". I imagined the look on my oldest daughters face when I told her about this as she dearly loves history. Charity and Henry's youngest son Nathanael had a daughter named her charity after his mother. Charity then married John from my family and this is where our two families get tied into a genealogical knot. My mind was churning just trying to process all of this and wondering why Charity died so young, did John and Charity have any children and what happened to my John after she died. It felt like a good mystery, and I was so glad that I had made time to come and visit this place.
The light was nearly gone when Chris and I exchanged phone numbers. He told me that he would see if he could find any more information about Charity and John and get back to me. He also encouraged me to visit another cemetery that he had already restored, but warned me it was hard to get to. We thanked him and walked back down the hill toward the car to leave. As I closed my door and waited for my passengers to board; I looked back up that hill and scanned the now silhouetted head stones once more. Funny how things can look different with just a bit more information. It still looked beautiful, but now a little sad as all of the unanswered questions bounced around in my mind. We drove back out of the small entrance and out once again onto the chalky gravel filled road. We decided to head into town to get some gas, and something to drink. Just as well pulled into the gas station my phone began to ring. "Hello this is Scott", I said. "Hey Scott, it's Chris and I have some information for you", he explained. "Really, already you found something out", I queried him. He proceeded to tell me that he looked through the information given to him by the genealogist, and read off what she had written for Charity the wife of John. "The broken tombstone of Charity Sortore lies near that of her grandmother Charity Stout Sortore. We wonder what happened to her young husband and any children they may have had". He promised to make some copies of and bring them by my home. "Thanks so much for your taking the time to relay that information to me", I told him. I offered my services as a photographer for free should he ever have need to show of his restoration works. We said goodbye and ended the call. Still a mystery I thought as the last of Chris' words still rang in my ears as we drove home. Genealogy was something that I had never been that interested in, but now a curiosity was growing inside my mind. I needed to know more. Not just about John and Charity, but all of the other faceless people who rest in the ground below a cold stone marker with scant details about their lives. Was a new idea for a photo project brewing in my mind? Perhaps, but for now the only thing I have time to pursue is a good nights sleep and pray for a full memory card tomorrow.
link: http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WM9HA0_Henry_Sortore_Sortore_Cemetery_Friendship_NY
Happy Shooting.
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