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What I see: An old graveyard, some of whose stones are falling over
What I feel: A great question -- why are some in that area so clearly falling, while others of the same age or apparently the same age are standing straight? Is there some kind of local superstition about it -- or is there willful human agency at work, and if so, why?
In the world, you can buy your way into almost any kind of traditional location. What you can't always determine what happens to you when you get there.
By the beginning of the 21st century, it had long been forgotten that Hero Angels Cemetery was a place of honor for a certain type of hero: the exquisite location had been set aside in 1919 for the many doctors and nurses of the region who had served in World War I, many of whom had come home and cared selflessly for those stricken in the flu pandemic. Those who had given their lives in the service of their country and neighbors had all been brought together in this supremely beautiful place, called Hero Angels Cemetery, to rest in peace.
The pandemic had ended at the end of 1920; time and tide had flowed by the region peacefully until World War II, when, alas, more Hero Angels were made from the region and brought to the cemetery to rest in peace. The difference in 1945 was that it was the grandchildren of the original people who had the vision for the graveyard keeping the vision alive, but the world was changing rapidly, and their children had vastly different concerns than their predecessors. Not that the tradition was breached for the entire 20th century, and not that all in the region abandoned the tradition, but the number became few as regional families moved on in search of greater opportunity. New people moved in, drawn to the beauty of the region and intent of getting from it all that their new money could buy.
At the end of the 20th century, the new rich of the region demanded that Hero Angels Cemetery be reopened, for they wanted to be buried in that gorgeous location. They also demanded that the tall, narrow vintage headstones be made for them, which meant they wanted to fit in and borrow the glory of the heroes there. They applied money to the local politicians to force the issue.
The region's old families came together to find out what they could do to defend the Hero Angels Cemetery, and the meeting was infiltrated by the new money faction, whose representatives thought they heard the families essentially give up after they thought the graveyard administrator said: “It does not matter. There is still room on the grounds, but the ground there is still hallowed – let them come. The earth will tell the difference!”
In the year 2000, Hero Angels Cemetery reopened, opening up 40 new plots. Those were snapped up quickly. Meanwhile, the stories of those already there began to make the rounds on the Internet. The region's old families told the stories, and let it be known that they did not think the new money faction that had forced and bought its way in should be there, but, they referred to the old line, and people heard what they wanted to hear: “The ground there is hallowed – the earth will tell the difference!
20 years later, the earth had told; the new pandemic found the new headstones all kinds of crooked, years of effort to right them again and again at last halted because grave maintenance was non-essential.
Meanwhile, the new rich were struggling – rich, not wealthy, living far beyond their means, and not prepared for the suddenness of the change Covid-19 had brought to their lives. They needed money, and the Hero Angels Cemetery graciously offered the deposits back of those who had not yet occupied one of the 40 new plots. This was seen as an angelically heroic thing to do, since money was tight for everyone, and the new rich needed it less than the people that worked at the graveyard.
Still, those who worked at the graveyard were not complaining, as they had not complained when the intruders had come, nor on any occasion in which they had been accused of not doing their job right, were watched doing their work by private investigators, had hidden cameras trained on them, and more, to find a rational reason for the new headstones to always fall crooked in a few years. Even when angry relatives had new teams to come in and do repairs, thus robbing the graveyard workers of their pay for the day, they had not complained. The result was always the same, and these relatives were finally dispirited into accepting the outcome.
On the 100th anniversary of the Hero Angels Cemetery, it was closed again for new burials. No one now wanted a plot there, and the world accepted what members of it outside the community thought they heard: the ground was hallowed, and the earth had told the difference.
However, Major Ironwood Hamilton came home from 23 years of military service abroad in time to attend the 100th anniversary ceremony with his wife, and they went home to laugh until they cried about how their relatives and their friends had outwitted the nouveau riche. It was a matter of a military engineer's knowledge of his ground.
Major Hamilton's great-great-grandfather, Colonel I.V. Hamilton, had designed the cemetery in 1919, including the long, tall headstones to distribute the weight a certain way. The ground of the Hero Angels Cemetery was soft, fine silt on a rock base far below; dug soft and dry, there was a great deal of movement in it if not firmly packed in place, and structures needed to have a very deep foundation. Colonel Hamilton had therefore made a lighter and yet impressive headstone as part of his design – so much honor and love could be printed on each one because of its height – and designed a great post to also go into the ground to support the stone. The ground around the post was carefully packed.
In the 1940s, Major Hamilton's great uncle, Captain I.T. Hamilton, came home from World War II and attended carefully to his grandfather I.V.'s designs – so, the headstones of the Hero Angels of the 1940s stood straight and tall as the older ones still did.
In 1999, Major Hamilton's cousin Colonel Ironwill Hamilton was given the task of reopening the cemetery after the local politicians had sided with the new people, and he had done exactly what was requested of him. Plots and vintage headstones had been demanded. He provided them … but no one knew to ask for a post, nor what would happen if the silt was not packed in under a regular foundation for a headstone.
“You really have to listen to Ironwill,” his cousin Ironwood said about it as he explained it to his wife. “He is not a fanciful old man! He did not say a word about that ground being hallowed – he said it was hollow!
All those new headstones in the old style were sitting on their own personal sinkholes – and thus, doomed to always fall crooked and at last fall over entirely, sooner or later.
Old Colonel Ironwill actually said that, in the 100th anniversary interview, if you really listened.
“There is something utterly perverse – crooked – about people who think they will use their money to buy their way into a place that they do not belong for their afterlife,” he said. “The Lord said to erring man, 'Dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return.' He later said about mankind in his later phase of rebellion after all the revelation that had been given: 'He that is filthy, let him be filthy still!' Therefore I stand upon this ground and say of these interlopers: crooked they were, and crooked they shall remain!”