Memphis Sunday Walk-About: Elmwood Cemetery Self-Tour, Part One of Two

The One Where I Misplaced My Husband

Chalk it up to our mutual weirdness, but Dan and I both love cemeteries. We saw an ad in the local circular and gettin’ spot for weekend activities, The Memphis Flyer, for a guided tour at the historic Elmwood Cemetery. The hour-and-a-half tour focused on the stories behind the epitaphs of those who were laid to rest here. We rode the Groove On-Demand van to the gates and walked across the bridge into the cemetery, and were surprised to find that we were the only two among the living who seemed to be visiting this 172 year-old 80-acre graveyard. Pay attention to that 80-acre bit. It will matter soon enough.

We were a few minutes early, so we waited a few, but saw no one. Curiosity overtook us. Dan scanned the code for the audio self-tour. Although we were interested in the history, we both really wanted to wander and explore so we did just that. Within range of each other, we each kept and eye on the whereabouts of the other, until that moment when we didn’t. There was just too much to see.

Each off on our own, I loved that we were taking photographs and seeing the same place through different eyes. I walked along with hands up, sending out love, prayer, and blessings to all who were memorialized here and all who loved them. In awe to the extent that some would go to ensure that their loved ones were remembered and fascinated by the names, dates, poetry, and photographs embedded in tombstones, I searched for the angels and the carved faces, the tree trunks, the babies and lambs, which also stood for babies lost.

With mid-morning temps in the high eighties, it was not long before I was sitting on a curb here and there, mopping my neck and brow with a handkerchief. Soon, I would rally and find the bugs on the blooms, the mushrooms, the birdies fair and cheerful. They are all around us, waiting for us to notice.

We would touch base now and then, giving general direction, but my energy was waning. My stomach was also growling, and he had the shoulder pack with all of the treats.

Still, so much more to see! I continued to wander, then sent Dan a note saying I was “close” to ready to go. He responded that he would wrap it up and meet me at the entrance so we could Groove on out to lunch. With that, he sent the wording from an entire row of family tombstones that he had translated from Japanese. I knew he was in deep, but I figured he would be along shortly. I chased a few butterflies and took more flower photos than I could possibly share on this post. Same with the monument pictures. I just chose some of my favorites. Please do click on any photograph to expand and enjoy the finer details.

Fifteen minutes passed without the bobbing head of Adventure Dan having been spotted on the horizon. He sent a note five minutes later saying he was on his way. I rested, hunger mounting, checking the next possible arrival times of the ride-share van. The mushrooms were calling to me, although I could not identify them so would not partake. Where is that man of mine, I wondered?

I didn’t think this swing would hold me, but I sure considered giving it a shot. A few minutes later, he texted “I C U” but I didn’t see him. Dan could very easily be standing on a hill acres away looking through binoculars, as is often the case. Finally, he sheepishly made his way to the entrance, admitting that he was momentarily lost. Dan is NEVER lost. We had a good laugh about not following our own safety rules or using walkie-talkies, and about misplacing your husband at a cemetery, although I didn’t know he was officially misplaced until he told me. I could not cram as many of the pictures into this post as I would have liked to, so stay tuned for part two, where you see more and hear about the best part of our Memphis Sunday Walk-About! Well, besides locating Adventure Dan. ;-)

Hold your sweet patooties and stay tuned,

Brenda Cordray

“The Desert Rose”