Honor to the Fallen, Revisited

Sometimes it seems the only times I get to Boalsburg are the days when I have dentist appointments. My dentist's office isn't too far from there. While I like my dentist plenty well enough (and by the way, he smells good too), I have to say that I don't really look forward to dental visits, even those of the routine preventative sort, which this day's was.

And so I always try to plan a tiny treat of some kind for myself as a reward after it's done. On this day, everything went as well as could be expected, and I scheduled not just one but two quick treats afterwards: a fast stop at a Boalsburg cemetery that I love to photograph, and a dish of butter pecan ice cream to go (breakfast of champions!) from local Meyer's Dairy, which is practically across the street from my dentist's office. I have to tell you I did both speedily, as I had a meeting to attend (and present at) almost immediately upon my return to work.

You have seen this cemetery before. Earlier this year, vandals pushed over and broke a number of the cemetery's beautiful old tombstones. I documented on Blip both the damage that was done and the ultra-quick restoration work that set things right.

I usually like to stroll around the grounds with my camera. But on this morning, there was no time for lollygagging. I think this may have been the first time that I actually drove my car through the narrow little paved paths (for they are nothing so formal as actual roads) through the cemetery. I stopped a few times, jumped out, snagged a few shots.

The foliage colors are still nice here, but they probably won't be after the coming rains; it is to pour all day Thursday, and then the temps are to drop, with the possibility of snow mentioned in the forecast for Friday's overnight. I admired the orderly rows of stones, the pretty orange colors on the trees lining the cemetery, the mountains maroon and green in the distance.

There was time for one last quick stop, and so I pulled the car to a halt in the tiny parking lot by the statue of the three ladies celebrating the first Memorial Day. I first showed you the sculpture about two and a half years ago, when I visited the cemetery after a memorial service for a friend who had passed away far too young. On that prior February visit, things had looked so stark, so colorless. It was a world full of gray.

It looked very different on this day. Wrapped in autumn's glories, the scene seemed much more lively and bright. Impressions . . . The flame colors of autumn leaves on the trees, some fallen on the ground. The simple but elegant cross on the church spire reaching toward the sky. The sun trying but not quite managing to break through behind it. Old Glory whipping along in the breeze.

And in the statue directly in front of me stand the three ladies. I become a philosopher for just one moment. I know they are meant to represent actual women from local history, but I think of them sometimes as the three graces from ancient Greek mythology. They have about them the air of something timeless.

On this day, as on every day, the three ladies are attending to their important task of honoring the fallen. The planets spin round the sun. Night turns into day. The seasons change. The leaves turn color and fall. Some things are lost, but others are regained, in time.

The stories we tell, the songs we sing, they are tales about the joys and tribulations of living, about our sorrow at seeing it all end. Yet these three things remain: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these . . . is love. Love that celebrates the best of what there ever was; that carries it forward; that never gives up. Love that never says goodbye.

The song: Bon Jovi, Never Say Goodbye.