05 August 2007


This is the Akron Cemetery. Most of the sign of things not allowed has been rubbed off. The only one I could make out for sure was "No bushes." They seem to have been allowed at one point, however, as there are bushes near some of the tombstones. Below the fold are some of the gravestones from my family.

First up, my Grandma and Grandad Parker:

The windmill is perfect imagery for my grandad. My earliest memories of visiting Grandma and Grandad revolve around their old farmstead. We'd often stop to get a drink or fill a water jug at the old windmill. Before the water had gone into the tank, of course, which was primarily for cattle to drink out of. The tank was just corrugated metal wrapped into a cylinder. I suppose it had been welded to its base, but I don't know for sure. The windmill stood beside it, pumping water up out of the well. I vaguely remember Grandad having to climb up it and repair various bits of it now and then. I also remember that they used the water to irrigate a small vegetable garden that was nearby. The old farmhouse was maybe 200 feet away. I loved to explore it when I was little. The smell of dust still makes me smile, remembering the place. No one had lived in it for years, but there were still "treasures" to be found. Grandma's old jewelry used to fascinate me, as did some of Mom's old toys. Now I would be more interested in the furniture and fabrics. Unfortunately, the place was robbed and cleaned out back when I was a teenager, and now it's been torn down.

Here's the other side of the tombstone, after I'd added the red pinwheel. It's a wonder the blades aren't blurred, as fast as they were spinning.

Great Grandma Fern:

She outlived all of her children except for Grandma Parker, and Grandma was the one they didn't expect to live past 30. I don't know why she wasn't "Grandma Jenkins." She'd been Grandma Fern long before I came along. According to my mom, I inherited my tendency to rearrange furniture frequently from her. *shrugs*

My mom said that this was her Grandma Parker's grandma... which I think makes her my Great-Great-Great Grandmother.

Last, while I was wandering the graveyard, I came across a few other Parkers. My mom thinks that they're my grandad's cousins. Also a McKie, which was next to these Parkers. Grandma Fern has McKee's in her ancestry, and spelling often changes, so they're probably relatives as well.


John said...

"I don't know why she wasn't "Grandma Jenkins." She'd been Grandma Fern long before I came along"

When I was growing up, I never understood why other kids referred to their grandparents by their last names (I realize now that it's a respect thing).

My mom's parent's were "Grandma 'Rene" and "Grandpa Archie"

My dad's mom was "Grandma Edith"

Qalmlea said...

LOL. Grandma Parker hated her first name, Hazel. So she wouldn't have wanted to be Grandma Hazel. Apparently she thought Hazel was a boy's name... Maybe it was once, but it doesn't seem to be any more.

Not sure about my dad's parents. His mom was kind of a harridan in some respects, so I can't see her going by her first name. His dad I barely remember.