People who regularly read my blog know that I enjoy a good tromp around an old rural cemetery, or an old urban one for that matter.
I call this necro-tourism.
I’m fascinated by the short poetic inscriptions on tombstones. And I enjoy trying to put together the who-relates-to-whom in old church graveyards where generations of intermarried families are all buried in a jumble.
Reynoldsburg is a tiny hamlet off of US Highway 45 in southern Illinois. The one church, simply called Reynoldsburg Church, was founded as part of the Methodist Episcopal denomination, according to its cornerstonre.
In these rolling hills near the Ohio River, more than two centuries of pioneers, farmers, teachers, soldiers, homemakers — all are buried on a wide, well-kept patch of land hemmed in on three sides by forest. On a July day, the scene is peaceful, and sun-parched.
Plenty of Reynolds are buried in this sacred ground.
Notice the spelling of Mrs. Harper’s given name: Phebe. The Lawrence tombstone, elsewhere in this posting, has the same spelling of the wife’s name. A daughter? Grand-daughter is more likely given the birth years are 1799 and 1838.
Elisha and Nancy Reynolds were in their 80s when they died. Their photos are symbols of a time and place — severe clothing and severe hair parting. They likely lived a hard life too.