Final Blog - Part 2

Final Blog - Part 1

                I used to believe that the cemetery was a place of death. That the existence of cemeteries was simply a practical solution to what we do with remains. Over the past nine weeks, my opinion has changed.  The cemetery is not a place of death; it is a place of life.

                As we have wandered through Spring Grove, I learned of those buried there. I learned about their lives, beliefs, values, heritage, and customs. The monuments whisper stories to us, and although sometimes we have to strain to hear them, they tell us about the lives of those buried beneath them.

                And we don’t simply learn of the individuals, we learn about history and society. I absorbed more about the values of society through the generations, than I ever would have in a sociology class. We saw the observed the larger monuments, popular in the nineteenth century, to the simplistic minimalist style more poplar now. We have gotten less cryptic as time has passed. Older monuments speak to us through depictions representing the person’s life, while contemporary ones bear phrases such as “What’s Cracking?” and “Gone to see for ourselves”. I’ve learned about the people who made Cincinnati a major city, and saw how time has changed us from the German heritage that we are known for, to a cultural melting pot representing European and Middle Eastern influences as well. Walking around Spring Grove is like walking a timeline of our city.

                I have learned what I wanted from my life. There is a difference between what we do and who we are. I do not want a marker symbolic of my profession, but rather of who I am, and who I strive to be: a person who loves to learn, who loves people, and who will do anything for others. I think I want my memorial to say, simply “She Loved”. 

                I stand by what I concluded in my first blog, “I have reached a two-fold conclusion. First, I believe that cemeteries exist so we feel that we will be remembered. In the grand scheme of things, we are on earth for a very brief amount of time. We want our lives to mean something; we want to know that we made an impact on this world. Secondly, they serve as place where those who have lost a loved one can go and remember who the person was to them. Cemeteries are not for the dead, they are for the living.”

                I still certainly believe these statements whole-heartedly. A cemetery can offer no comfort to the dead. To the living, however, a cemetery offers a home. No one wants to be homeless. We all want a place to lay our head down at night, and a cemetery offers us comfort that we will have a place when we lay our head down permanently.

                The cemetery offers us a place of immortality. We cannot physically live forever; our bodies were not designed to. But through cemeteries, we are allowed a place to be memorialized for eternity and to tell our stories to others.  I hope that one day; two hundred years from now, a person will walk past my memorial and stop to remember me as I did those buried at Spring Grove.

                I cannot answer if cemeteries will be around in the future. Our societal views may change, and they may no longer be deemed necessary. Scientific advances may make the cemetery an unnecessary burden. But I do believe that there will always be memorials in one way, shape or form. We have a deep human need to be remembered.

                My experience at Spring Grove has taught me the many dimensions of the roles of a cemetery. It is not a simple answer, because I think the purpose of the cemetery is up to the individual. For some, it may be a scientific answer, or a moral, or philosophical one. I came into this course with the notion that I was going to learn a little history, and maybe play with some ghosts. I thought it wandering around a cemetery would be interesting, but a little macabre. Leaving the course, I have found one of my new favorite spots. Spring Grove has taken the place of the park for me. I have found stories, peace, beauty, and inspiration there.  And I will continue to return. I have more stories to hear.

Edgar Allan Poe Mausoleum

I designed a mausoleum for Edgar Allan Poe.  He died on October 7^th, 1849, and the details surrounding his death remain a mystery. He was found in a public house, in clothing that was his own. He was incoherent, and could not explain the state he was in. Many theories have circulated such as alcoholism, rabies, and poison.

Poe was orphaned at the age of two, and was then “adopted” (it was never official) by the Allan family. The Allan family was fairly wealthy, but cut him off after the age of 18. He was the first American to try to support himself fully through writing, and therefore spent much of his adult life a pauper.

I designed the mausoleum to reflect what I believed would have been Poe’s personality, and dedicated it to his life’s work. Much of the symbolism is obvious, as Poe was not one for much symbolism, and believed that “meaning in literature should be an undercurrent just beneath the surface.”

It would be in a park-like setting in Boston. There would be a lake with a bench, surrounded by evergreen trees, to provide a peaceful place for others to come and enjoy his works. The evergreen trees as a whole represent eternal life, but a single needle is symbolic of individuality. The flowers on either side of the door are Baby’s Breath, symbolic of Innocence, and Lily of the Valley, which indicates a return to happiness. 

The style is fairly Gothic in nature, to reflect his Gothic Novels. His infamous Raven is embedded in the roof. The towers on either side of the main structure have pendulums hanging from them, representing his work, “The Pit and the Pendulum”.

The sides show off stained glass windows, with images from his major works embedded in them. One side contains “The Mask of the Red Death,” “The Black Cat,” and “The Fall of the House of Usher.” The other side showcases “The Golden Beetle,” “The Balloon Hoax,” and “The Purloined Letter.” 

Windows Side 1

The book-style door opens to the interior, containing Poe’s coffin. The coffin is equipped with a bell, since being buried alive was a major theme in Poe’s stories. The candelabras have a dual purpose, lighting the interior, and adding to the Gothic quality of the structure. The floor is a tiled mosaic, with a heart in the floor beside the coffin, symbolic of “The Tell-tale Heart”. 

By building the mausoleum, I was somewhat limited in the actual elements I could include. However, I think Poe would be pleased that his works were appreciated and reflected in his burial place.

Weekly Reflection

I have always admired mausoleums. They are incredible structures, and look stunning, from the outside. After going in the Dexter, Gerard, and Fleischmann mausoleums, I have determined that I never want to be buried in one. 

We began our excursion at the Norman Chapel. The chapel was breathtaking. Something seems odd to me about being married in a cemetery, but given the beauty of the chapel, I would consider it. If I get married, that is.  

The Gerard one was the nicest of the three mausoleums we visited. The stained glass, statues, and flowers gave it a church-like quality. But despite the beauty of the individual elements, I could not help but feel claustrophobic. Maybe it was having the whole class in there at once, the space the statues and flowers took up, or the darkness. Plus, actually seeing the above-ground caskets kind of gave me the heebie-geebies.

The Fleischmann mausoleum was right down the middle for me. Again, the flowers and stained glass were nice. It was slightly larger, but still felt cramped, dark, and dank.  The statue seemed to look at me wherever I went.

The Dexter mausoleum is by far the most impressive from the exterior. The deterioration on the outside should have indicated how the interior would appear. I felt like I was visiting the home of Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, about 100 years after he moved out.  I could envision what the plan was, and the architecture was incredible, but I felt like I was starring in a horror movie.  I wish they had been able to finish the chapel portion, because maybe that would have brought about a new feel to the place. Not to mention, it would have been amazing to see.

I was so excited about going in to these mausoleums, and I am glad that I got to. It was certainly a great photo opportunity!  And I’m sure I would go back in, if given the chance. But I doubt I would go at night, and certainly not alone.

So when I die, I do not want to be put in one. No, I’m beginning to think cremation is the way to go. 

 

Fully Alive - A Fine and Private Place

            We like to believe that there is a difference between the living and the dead. Medically speaking, the heart stops beating, breath no longer comes, and brain waves cease. But philosophically speaking, these may be the only differences. We pass people on the streets, speak with them, and shake their hand, never knowing that they are dead. They may not realize it themselves. Just because we are among the living, does not mean that we are alive. So what then, does it mean to be alive?

            This is the theme in A Fine and Private Place that transcends all others. The lines are blurred between the living and dead, until it is difficult to remember who is which. Even the characters themselves have a difficult time distinguishing between the two. The dead desperately cling to life, by holding on to love, music, and hope. The living cling to death by surrounding themselves with it, and denying themselves the very things the dead cling to.

            What it means to be truly living is perhaps best spoken in the book when the raven takes a “break” from flying, and hitches a ride in the back of a truck. He is soon joined by a squirrel, who states “All lives are composed of two basic elements... purpose and poetry. By being ourselves, squirrel and raven, we fulfill the first requirement, you in flight and I in my tree. But there is poetry in the meanest of lives, and if we leave it unsought we leave ourselves unrealized. A life without food, without shelter, without love, a life lived in the rain – this is nothing beside a life without poetry,” (Pg. 85).

            Many people have the first requirement. They live with purpose simply by going through the motions of living. But very few people live with poetry.

            Jonathon Rebeck, the main character, decided that he, quite simply had had enough of the world of the living. He was so dead inside, that he decided that he belonged in the cemetery. For nineteen years, he did nothing but associate with the dead. They were all he could connect to. When he could no longer be a druggist, he had neither purpose nor poetry in his life. After living so long amongst the dead, he too forgot what it meant to be alive.  

             Mrs. Klapper became amongst the dead when her husband died. Her husband took part of her to the grave as well. She is perhaps the greatest example of the living dead. She walks amongst the living, fulfilling her daily tasks. She goes to the market, speaks with her neighbors, and cleans her house. But she spends the majority of her time visiting her deceased husband. Her husband was the only poetry in her life, and the poetry vanished when he died. So she continues to do the minimal things necessary to live, but never fully does.

            The raven is the epitome of purpose. The raven does what he does because of instinct. “Ravens bring things to people. We’re like that. It’s our nature. We don’t like it. We’d much rather be eagles, or swans, or even one of those moronic robins, but we’re ravens and there you are,” (Pg. 7). The thing about the raven is that he can only live his life with purpose. He is not human, and therefore has no concept of poetry. All he has is his animalistic instinct.

            Laura, now dead, only found out what it meant to be alive after death. She was a bookworm, and never had any real interest in the world around her. It is not surprising that her manner of death was being hit by a car; she never paid attention to anything while she was alive. Life had no hold or meaning to her. Even in death, she tried to disappear. It was only after she met Michael that she began to see what was missing.

            Michael is the only character that had both purpose and poetry in his life.  He had a job that he enjoyed, a woman he loved, and filled his life with books and music. It seemed like he actually enjoyed his life. The irony to this is that he committed suicide out of spite for his wife. After death, he did not want to forget what it meant to be alive. He clung to words he had read, and songs he had heard. He never truly wanted to die.

            Campos was the unusual character in the book. While everyone else had no poetry, he had no purpose. He is the exact opposite of the raven. Sure he had a job, but it did not matter much to him. What mattered was the music in his life. He loved to sing, listen to music, and drink his rum. But he had no direction.

            So what then, does it mean to be alive? What does it mean to live with both purpose and poetry? Most people have the purpose. The poetry can be harder to come by. It is passion, love, ambition, beauty, happiness. It is what we choose to live for, not simply living the life that is handed to us. It is everything that is good about the world of the living.

            Ultimately, none of the characters in the book were alive. They all had something missing, be it purpose, poetry, or life itself. And no one, as Rebeck soon realized, can escape their designated status.

               

           “’There is love,’ Mr. Rebeck objected. ‘I have seen it myself. There is humor, and contention, and friendship. All these I have seen.’

            ‘They are here only because you brought them with you. Do you think you have left the world, do you think one escapes that easily?’”

            In the end, everyone must make a choice; to truly live, or truly die. No one can live in both worlds forever.

Weekly Reflection

I enjoyed our class discussion with John Tallmadge last Wednesday. I didn’t really have the opportunity to say much, as I felt the rest of the class had it covered, but it was really interesting to listen to everyone’s opinions. However, there are a few things I wish I had the opportunity to throw in my two cents, for what they are worth, and I am a much better writer than orator.

The first was the concept of “Heaven”. Tallmadge discussed in his last chapter how he believed that Heaven was a state of mind. That we experienced it every day, “We experience it in the wholeness, harmony, and radiance of old-growth forests, in marriages that have endured for five decades or more, in the shining faces of beautiful old people who have weathered catastrophe and betrayal without losing their capacity to love.” That “Even Jesus refused to describe it”. Having attended Bible College, and grown up in the church, we were told that heaven was “complete communion with God,” and hell was “complete separation from God.” 

Complete communion with God, to me, includes everything created by God. Everything that is natural and pure. Love, nature, happiness, these are all good things created by a loving God. However, since the fall of man, we also experience hell on a daily basis. All of the evil things in this world; hatred, Ignorance, disease – these things were a result of the exile from the Garden of Eden. So yes, we have been living in Heaven all along, but we also live in hell. We stand on earth with a foot on either side of the fence. Obviously Jesus could not describe it, as humans, we have no concept of “pure good” or “pure evil”. We only know a mixture of the two. You cannot describe a rainbow to a blind person. We will never understand the idea of Heaven until we experience it ourselves.

The next thing I wanted to discuss was the concept of “legacy”. We danced around it during the discussion, but never fully explored it. We talked about how people want to be remembered after they are gone, but I think it goes deeper than that. We want people to know that we lived, that what we did mattered, and that we had some impact on this world. I think we all have, at the very center of our being, a desire to leave this world different than it was when we entered. We dream of making a difference in someone’s life or of being someone grand.

I am somewhat offended by one of the statements made in Tallmadge’s writing. “The only meaning here is carried by the mourners themselves. It’s their memories that invest the monuments with meaning.” Does this mean, once your mourners are gone, that your life and subsequent death has no meaning? I don’t think so. I look at the cemetery as a yearbook of sorts. I look at my high school yearbook, and there are many people I never met, and yet they are memorialized in a photo. Does the fact I didn’t know them minimize their impact on the world? The monuments are symbols that these people existed, and that has meaning of its own. I do believe that cemeteries are not for the dead, they are for the living, but there is more to it than simple comfort to the families of the person who is deceased. There is also comfort to us while we are living, to know that after we are gone there is a place for us, to show the mark we made on the world, and a place that we can be remembered. It is a comfort to us that our “legacy” will be documented.

Lastly, we had discussed the nature concept, and how the founders of Spring Grove thought that they could “improve” nature. Now, I consider myself a city girl. Starbucks, shopping, busy streets... Yes please.  I do enjoy a good walk in the woods every once in a while, but for the most part, looking at flowering plants and the like has me reaching for my Zyertec.

We discussed “artificial” wilderness. That is what Spring Grove is. It has been cultivated to appear the way it does, by a team of landscapers and designers. But nature will always win. We can attempt to control it, but never fully can. No matter what advances are made in tree grafting, some species are not going to grow here. We can cut the grass, but it will always grow again. We will have droughts, and we will have floods. The idea that we can “control” nature is preposterous. This is evidenced even in Spring Grove, in the trees that have been torn apart by Cincinnati’s version of a “Hurricane.” Despite our best efforts, nature will take over everything. Eventually, our efforts will become futile.

In the end, it all comes back to nature, in both the literal and figurative sense of the word. It is the nature of God and Heaven to be inherently good. It is the nature of Satan and Hell to destroy. It is Human Nature to want to be remembered. And it is the nature of nature to simply be what it is.