The two cemeteries that I spent most of my time in are ones that most people take for granted and either do not consider or do not expect to be cemeteries. The first used to be a Seneca village dating from 1825 to 1857. But by the mid 19th century, however, less Natives more mixed minorities. An old census record from 1855 dates almost 300 people living in this village, situated in the middle of a popular and old city. After Andrew Jackson Downing advocated for a need for the city to have a large park like Paris' Bois de Boulogne in Paris or London's Hyde Park, a man named Fredrick Law Olmsted was put in charge of creating said park, to be located around and in this old village. The solution to forcing its inhabitants out? Drive them out by men on horseback, without care to who falls to trampling or sword. It's hard to believe, but Central Park in New York City is, in fact, a cemetery. Grave Matters: A Journey Through the Modern Funeral Industry to a Natural Way of Burial by Mark Harris defines a cemetery as location in which more than one body is buried. Additionally, no chapter in this book and no definition I have found ever states that a cemetery is one exclusively bound to human remains. If one cannot consider Central Park a cemetery from the sheer fact that it used to be an indigenous village in which bodies would need a place to be buried, than I can supply another fact that qualifies it as such: I can name half a dozen old friends or people I've met who have buried at least one pet in the park somewhere. With that in mind, I set fourth to spend my time in the area where the village used to be.
As it turns out, the area is more or less, close to where the reservoir is located. Out and about, I noticed many joggers and bicyclists perhaps practicing for some sort of event. As I walked around, I tried to look for some sort of sign or acknowledgment that the village had actually existed but, much to my disappointment, I found know. In fact, with everyone and the nature escape from the city, the blooming plants and flowers, I found even myself getting myself from the task at hand. My thoughts, though troubled by the each little sign on a bench I passed by starting with "In memory of..." and ending with some person I never knew and the fact that not one mentioned any of the various people who had once lived there, drifted instead to flowers and the birds. Knowing my camera was in my pocket, I began to wonder which combination of all of these things would lead way to a good photograph. In doing so, by accident, I came across one message on one of the benches that seemed to fit the lack of the message and respect for the old homes that used to stand somewhere in the area. What you hear here, stays here. Behind the bench and in the distance, under the trees, where too abandoned picnic benches and what did I hear? What would stay here? Nothing. No evidence that any of us had ever been here. Perfect. Considering that I was by myself and never figured out how to take a picture of myself with a camera, I don't have a picture of myself here.
The second cemetery I visited is one that I've been volunteering at for some time. It's also not a very conventional cemetery and has had various controversies surrounding it. The American Natural History Museum. Excluding the countless animal bodies there, numerous human bodies are not only on display but in the archives as well. An extended visit here I felt was relevant to the unit because it challenges the idea of continual care for the dead. While I can see the benefits of learning from the past, the deceased and dissections, I at still find myself at odds with the idea of displaying corpses for the public. Would I want my own family to have this happened to them, even generations down the road instead of whatever they personally have wanted? No. I know there's someone in my family who wants to become an organ donar and I'm against the idea because while I understand the benefits, I find it too invasive and believe that when you die, you need all of your pieces. During one of the days I was scheduled to teach during one of their A Night at the Museum Sleepovers, after my shift was over, I tried to figure out my answer to this dilemma. I would never want to be displayed but at the same time, after growing up going in and out of museums, I can't imagine not having access to the various bones and bodies of people and animals alike. Although, admittedly, the human remains in exhibits like the Egyptian sections have always creeped me out. After sleeping over in the museum, twice, I think find myself at this selfish odds with myself. Maybe at this point, it is better to just let whomever wants this done to them to let it be done to them. I'm not sure what should be done with bodies already on display.
The third and last funeral is one of the ones I went to for my final project. It was the one where I have my great some odd grandparents buried in. It's several hours away from the city. The two things I noticed the most about the cemetery that bothered me was firstly, how many of the headstones were broken and no one had even bothered to even lean them back in place. I remember being around seven or eight and overhearing the adults at funerals complain about 'rowdy teenagers' and their disrespect for the dead. At this cemetery, I couldn't help but feel the same for whomever ran it. In this unit, we learned that one of the fees family now has to pay is a maintenance fee - one that I assume should ensure that at least the marker of their loved one doesn't end up in shambles or when it does, that it isn't just left on the ground for so long that mold begins to grown over it. Additionally, there was trash all over the cemetery. Lighters I assume were left for once smokers but tissues, used juice boxes, boxes of cigarettes half shredded and soggy in the middle of a windy day.... It sure seemed to make a liar and mockery out of everyone in the funeral business who claimed that they actually cared about the strangers they were dealing with.
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