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Find-a-Grave rocks! |
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I've lived in Massachusetts my whole life. Since 1988 I've been interested in my genealogy. I'm 25% Scottish, 12.5% Irish but I mostly descend from English families who came here 300-400 years ago. My immigrant ancestor, with the same last name, came to Massachusetts in the 1630's from France supposedly. I'm a direct descendant of a Salem Witch who was hanged and also the judges that sentenced her to die. It's messed up. She was very old and blind, probably couldn't hurt a fly, and they hung her from a tree. I can't imagine living back then.
If I did not have to work I would grow a big bushy red beard (my work won't allow it) and buy a house with a porch. On that porch I would rock back and forth in my rocking chair, sporting a bad-ass kilt whilst learning to play the bag pipes....until I gave up 10 minutes later from being terrible at it.
If I was retired I would definitely travel the great continental 48 states in an RV searching out the historic landmarks of the USA. Revolutionary and Civil War battlefields would be on the list of places to visit. A 7th great-grandfather of mine was Gen. Artemas Ward (1727-1800.)
THE DOORS "The End"
Don't let me die in an automobile
I wanna lie in an open field
want the snakes to suck my skin
want the worms to be my friends
want the birds to eat my eye
as here I lie
the clouds fly by
Let me know if you need a transfer if you can add more bio info. Hope everyone gets out there and photographs some stones - that is the main reason this site exists. Thanks.
I welcome edits even if it's just a GPS, plot number, marker transcription or middle/maiden name etc. I like complete memorials.
***SORRY, I DO NOT LINK TO RELATIVES THAT DO NOT HAVE A BURIAL LOCATION. This is Find-a-GRAVE after all.****
Found this inscribed on a stone in Warwick, Ma.:
"Low in the ground my bed is made,
here in the dark alone I'm laid.
Depart my friends and let me rest,
I'm weary of this wilderness."
Found this on a find-a-grave profile:
Old Bones' profile poem"
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.
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