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Tuesday, August 2, 2022

Musings on Sterling Cemetery

Bench for Happy Sterlings

 


As I unlocked the gate into our Sterling Family Cemetery, the feeling of dread that I had been experiencing on our drive from Bryan disappeared.  Based on dangerous world events and the fact that in Bryan, we have had over a month of afternoon temperatures hovering around F 100 with no rain, I expected the same drought conditions in Schulenburg and in my “soul.”  Yes, it was dry, but our cemetery was freshly mowed and still green— even on our new addition which included those majestic, spreading, Live Oaks. The pile of dead tree limbs that had accumulated by the gate had been removed by Earl Potter’s crew.  There were small patches of dead grass where the sunshine penetrated the canopy of our 11 pecan trees, but our cemetery was beautiful in its elegant simplicity.  My dreadful thoughts transformed into feelings of euphoria.  Our cemetery can have that effect.

 

Cemetery View From Bench

On previous trips to Schulenburg, we usually arrived in the afternoon, spent the night in a Schulenburg hotel or RV park, then visited the cemetery to do chores, or party with the family the next day.  But, on this trip we decided to leave Bryan about 7AM so we could arrive at about 9AM while it was still relatively cool.  So when we parked in the cemetery grounds, the temperature was about F 80 and a cool breeze was blowing.  Perfect!  We returned to Bryan by about 2 PM.  It was a good day.
 
There was no need to do our usual job of picking up dead limbs or sawing low-hanging limbs, so Pat and I set about our task for the day.  In the bed of our pickup, we carried a large, cardboard box which contained the parts of a heavy, aluminum bench that we planned to assemble.  Sisters Ruth and Fanny had suggested that the addition of a bench would be a desirable addition and could be placed under our large oaks.  They thought about obtaining a marble bench until they realized the cost.  Anyway, after about an hour of assembly with shaky hands and finding bolts and washers in the grass where they had accidentally been dropped, the job was complete.  

I hope that most of our family will be happy with the results.  This bench is well-designed and constructed.  The dark grey color blends well with they grey lichens on the trunks of our oaks, so it is not overtly apparent to potential thieves driving by.  It is not terribly heavy and can easily be moved by a couple of adults.  Advertised as sturdy, it can support about 600 pounds of humans, dogs or whatever.

 As we lounged on our new bench, I reminisced about the history of this cemetery and our family members buried in it.  Brother Bruce respected Mom’s wishes to be buried under these large oaks, then Bruce and Arleen had a chain-link fence built around it.  Not a bad idea, but many of us decided to plant some memorial shrub or tree in it so that it eventually turned into a jungle with vines covering the fence.  Family members sometimes gathered to clean it up because it became too much for Bruce and Arleen to handle.  Then, Earl and Diana Potter took over and Earl requested that we remove the fence, the tool shed and some of the shrubs.  Somewhat reluctantly, we agreed.  In retrospect, I think it was one of the best major changes we ever made.  Not only has it been much, much easier and cheaper to maintain, I think it is tastefully elegant in its simplicity.  And, Earl added considerable class by constructing a heavy, locked gate to exclude uninvited vehicles and bulky folks who cannot slip through the bars of the gate.  Thanks, Earl.  

Today, I focused on Bruce’s shrine to Beebe, Amy and Joyce.  Gloria Amelda Vela Sterling would now be almost 90 years old — and still a class act.  As I remember them, Joyce was the serious one who might have ended up as a professor of History — or something.  Amy was the charismatic girl who might have been a great writer.  Who Knows?  But, there was definitely much promise in those girls.  Sad!

Oh yes, you may wish to know that Earl Potter’s 70 acres is still for sale.  So, there is an opportunity for some wealthy family member to purchase it to create something of a family home for the Texas Sterling dynasty.  Go for it!

 

Our little dog "Tiger" joyfully saluted our family headstone.

 

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When I used the word "spreading" to describe our Live Oak trees, it rang a faint bell -- so I searched for the source.  Here's what I found:

Source:  The Letters of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Village Blacksmith

UNDER a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms 5
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate’er he can, 10
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge 15
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door; 20
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And watch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church, 25
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter’s voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice. 30

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 35
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close; 40
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life 45
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!

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After reading Longfellow's poem, I realize that the subject is not primarily about trees, it's about honest, working folks -- much like the men and women buried here.  Have a good day!

Table of Contents:  https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/6813612681836200616/1264159645185875922?hl=en