About That Photo

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The place I’m standing in has a deeper meaning than I ever could’ve imagined.

From the Archive

If you’ve ever visited my About Me page on the site, you’ve undoubtedly noticed that header pic of me staring into the camera lens, flanked by a creamy bokeh conveniently smearing away the background. This isn’t just a random pic taken on a late winter day in my backyard. I didn’t just say, one day “Here, snap a shot. I need to update my website.” The image is the culmination of a very personal journey, and the place I’m standing in has a deeper meaning than I ever could’ve imagined.

This place, a cemetery named after my family and housing many of said ancestors, is hidden away. It rests on private property and can’t be reached without first getting permission, then hiking well off the beaten path. This day, as I traversed the land in the middle of the beautiful countryside on my way to it, I couldn’t help but slow my pace and savor each step as I gazed around and appreciated the sweet sounds of peace all around me. Chirping birds sat undisturbed, high atop the trees, while a light breeze gently complemented the therapeutic tingling of the freshwater stream, trickling along the creek. This is the world as it is meant to be seen. Nary a trace of mankind along this path and brook aside from a lone, dilapidated barn that sits quietly in the meadow. Did my forefathers build this? I could imagine them over 200 years ago…. moving around, working the land, tending crops, horses, and cattle and growing our family. I could almost hear them, and couldn’t shake this near-euphoric feeling of serenity. I feel like I belong here. This is my home. This is where I’m meant to be.

The cemetery itself is exactly what you’d expect after sitting untended for so long… in ruins. Overgrown foliage… weeds, vines, briars, etc. Most headstones have fallen over and are partially or fully obscured, only visible after poking around and removing dead leaves while being cognizant of lurking thorns. I hated seeing this and I wish I could have the place fully restored by professional landscapers, but I imagine the work required would cost a fortune, and the grounds would then need to be regularly maintained, which just isn’t practical given its off-the-path, private-property location. So, this is what’s left.

As I stand here visiting my great-great-great-great-grandfather….. son of the very first person bearing my surname (also buried here) who pioneered the newly christened state of Kentucky in the late 1700s, my mind is a veritable melting pot of differing energy and emotion. Over the past couple of years I’ve been learning about my family history. Things I’ve never known. And for the first time in my life, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of family pride. Within the weathered embrace of these old stone walls, I stand among them at last. I was drawn to this particular headstone because it’s still in place in its original location, defiantly standing tall amidst the ruins for nearly 150 years, refusing to be like everyone else, signaling strength and individuality. So strange, yet rightfully fitting, that I find these things here with ancestors I’ve never known versus the complete disconnect I always felt with their descendants who have come and gone in my lifetime. I don’t get to say this very often, but these are my people, and I’m honored to be here and feel their enduring presence.

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I can talk about things that matter to me and not be made to feel like there’s something wrong with me.

From the Archive

The energy in here is undeniable. As I touched on in “One Obscure Day in 1994,” I’ve spent much of my life feeling a little out of place in the world around me. But here, it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. I feel welcome, like I belong. I can talk to them and not be judged or cast aside. They’re listening. There’s no need to explain myself here. No need to soften the edges, downplay the things that light me up, or brace for the look that says I’ve somehow said too much. I can just be. I can share my inspirations and not feel instant regret. I can talk about things that matter to me and not be made to feel like there’s something wrong with me. I’m here and they understand the journey I took to find them. The feeling is freeing, peaceful and serene. Honestly, I don’t want to leave. I wish my house was right next to this place. It feels like it should be. This was my family’s home for generations.

As I turn and begin to walk away, I feel this poignant sense of longing, as though I’m leaving a newly discovered sanctuary before I’ve had enough time to fully settle into the peace it offers. Again, this energy. Unique in its perfect stillness. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s so quiet here that you can practically hear the silence, if that makes any sense. My footsteps are pronounced as I move slowly across this prairie: the soft brush of my boots through the grass, the occasional crackle of broken twigs, and the soothing crunch of scattered leaves. These sounds of serenity, woven together to craft a therapeutic soundtrack for this joyous yet somewhat somber trek back to my vehicle… They carry me across the savanna like a gentle current, easing the reluctance I feel to leave.

The farther I move from the cemetery, the stronger the magnetic pull to turn back becomes. With each step, I feel as though I’m going away… away from where I’m supposed to be. My business here is unfinished.

For years, I’ve made it known that I wanted to be buried at Evergreen Cemetery because of the significance it has held in my life. That has now changed. I want to be buried here. If I can’t enjoy this place and live here while I’m alive, I’ll find that joy in death, residing here among my people.