Sunday Pastries With the Dead 9

A circa-1818 churchyard in New Jersey.

I’d hoped to beat the rain today, but the moment I stepped from my car a fat drop of water landed on my glasses. Blessedly, I was able to power through and the drizzle only upgraded to a downpour as I was concluding my visit. The sweet stone Baptist church that currently stands astride a large cemetery boasting over 1,000 plots was built in 1855, in place of the congregation’s first structure erected in 1818.

I really loved the vibe of this place—the residents were incredibly friendly, happy to have a visitor, and quite content with their quiet little slice of rural heaven.

The stand-outs among the stones were some symbols I’d never seen before, and many, many excellent entries into the Historical Name Game.

The oldest stones I could read hailed from 1812—Jacob (left), who died in January, and Elizabeth (right) who died in April. They predate the first church structure by six years, which is not uncommon—burial grounds were usually the first thing established on a congregation’s plot of land until they could raise the funds for a building.

As for the incredible historical names among the interred, phew, it was hard for me to narrow them down. If you’re a writer looking for character names, old graveyards are gold mines. My ten favorites from this locale are Bartlett Swallow, Teunis Case, Beacon James Romine, Willie Etta Kitchin, Lambert Bodine, Tobias Shabinger, William Manners, Job Wolverton, Reading Larowe, and R. Morris Winner.

I also found this surname of Past to be both poignant and ironic (the Germans probably have a word for that combination). On the Past obelisk (topped with an urn!), there’s a very clear monument maker’s mark signed by H.M. Swayze of Trenton, NJ (a distant relative of Patrick’s, perhaps?) Beside it is another marker that gave me pause—the daughter of Allison and Amy Holcombe, who died in 1918. As much as I’d love to believe this is early proof of a lesbian couple living out and proud, a quick search on Ancestry.com shows that Allison was a male. Who knew the name was gender-neutral!

I encountered a few rare symbols here, as well. First, two gorgeous tassel designs (paging Greedy Peasant!) These elaborate drapery elements go beyond the more common simple shroud (aka the veil between life and death) to symbolize extended mourning. Also, could we please take a moment to appreciate the name Tacy Swallow? Brilliant.

Brother and sister John and Henrietta Case’s side-by-side memorials show two symbols I haven’t yet encountered. John’s has a handshake surrounded by ivy. The hands are both in a gripped position—since he died at 21 and doesn’t appear to have been married, this likely symbolizes fraternal brotherhood. The ivy stands for eternal friendship and everlasting love. Henrietta’s is broken, but another similar monument in the yard (far right) fills in the blank of her symbol—it’s a hand holding a lily. Lilies symbolize purity, innocence, and chastity. Henrietta was just 26 when she died and doesn’t appear to have been married, so it’s possible this speaks, quite literally, to her virginity (Victorian era folks be Victorian era-ing).

Last but not least, I really enjoyed this book within a wreath (the brokenness endeared me to it even more!) The wreath means eternal memory and immortality—it’s made of olive branches, symbolizing peace, forgiveness, and humility. The open book signifies a life cut short (the deceased hadn’t yet “reached the end.”) But, alas, we have—until next Sunday!