The wind piles dry leaves against a fencepost. Branches cracked away from old oaks and beeches litter the ground. Deer trails disappear into the woods. Wild turkeys come here for the beechnuts and acorns. Coyotes come for the wild turkeys. I’ve come for the stories.
I spent a cold gray afternoon last week at Bayview Cemetery, listening. So many tiny tombstones where mothers grieved unbearably. So many mossy tablets no longer legible.
I’m obsessed with the Civil War veterans who came to the north end of Torch Lake to make new lives after the war. I see them clearing land for their farms, working at the sawmill, building a school, a hotel, a store. I think of them gathered at the GAR post in Eastport in their old age with their memories, their wounds, and their flag. Their stories are songs in the wind. Dan Blakely, John McEwan, Jackson Waffle, Robert Wilkinson. I learn more about some, and new mysteries arise.
Samuel Oberholzer, Nelson Todd, L.E. See, Jerome Campbell. As the stories come clear, I’ll tell them to you. If you know the stories, please tell them to me. Norman Larabee, Hiram Blakely, John Jackson, Luther Evans.
Definitely related posts:
Torch Lake Views 
uphilldowndale
October 18, 2009
…. and 19 days’ Oh dear, how sad. Every precious day counted, such a short life.
Gerry
October 18, 2009
It was not at all uncommon for families to lose many children. My own family was very nearly wiped out in an epidemic at the end of the 19th century. My grandmother, as a very young girl, went to live with her Aunt Ida and her grandma Kajsa, and that made all the difference . . . .
The Victorian obsession with death makes sense when we look at the facts on the ground. It is terribly sad, isn’t it . . .
There is a memorial in Elk Rapids put up by a despairing young father–his infant child and his wife died within days of each other from the complications of childbirth. We forget how often women died giving birth. We forget how much easier life is now . . . and yet, not very different.
centria
October 18, 2009
Hey Gerry it sounds like we were both in the old-time story frame-of-mind yesterday. Cemeteries are the greatest. Um, maybe not for those who have passed on, but for us respectful descendants.
Gerry
October 18, 2009
I know — what is it about people who follow each other’s blogs? I was astonished to read of your explorations of the vanished settlements just as I was obsessing, once more, about my Civil War vets. I wish I knew why the GAR post flag has imprisoned me. But I’m going to keep following the trail.