Rocks and Crosses

Cemetery and Leaning Trees

Make Way © 2011 Bo Mackison

This is the larger section of the Tumacacori Cemetery. There are a dozen early 20th century graves that are marked with piles of heavy rocks and rustic, wooden crosses. Any evidence of mission era graves are no longer visible, most likely destroyed by weather and human activity in the area. In the late 1800s, the mission was used as a corral during cattle drives. But by 1900, the people moving into the area recognized this as “sacred ground” or “campo santa” and petitioned to once again use the cemetery to bury their dead.

Tumacacori - Cemetery III

Tended Graves at Tumacacori © 2011 Bo Mackison

The grave of one year-old Juanita T. Alegria (1915-1916)  was the last person to be buried in the cemetery of the Tumacácori mission. Her grave, marked by the above ground adobe tomb, is the only one to be identified in the back section. According to the Park Ranger, her family still comes to maintain the grave and decorate it with flowers.

Tumacacori - Mortuary

Tumacacori – Laid to Rest © 2011 Bo Mackison

The cemetery and Mortuary Chapel are located at the rear of the church. The Chapel is about 16 feet in diameter and has a flat roof, though there were indications that is was originally intended to have a white dome similar to the dome on the church. This is where funeral masses were celebrated and rosaries were prayed for the dead.

One of the main reasons fro the outside chapel was the concern for the spread of illness. Many died from contracting Old World illnesses, usually small pox or measles, and to gather people in an enclosed area such as the larger church would have run the rick of more contagion. At the height of the mission, there were often one or two deaths every day.

This is the last entry for Tumacacori, although the entire series of photographs of Tumacacori National Historic Park are available in a Flickr set.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is living in Tucson for two months, exhibiting her photography in art shows, taking photographs of Arizona landmarks, both historical and natural, and blogging about photography, art fairs, and living life “solo”. It is an experience well worth the effort.

Shrouded Cemetery

Roadside Cemetery in Dane County

Roadside Cemetery © 2008

Cemeteries hold a certain fascination for me. On my travels around the state of Wisconsin and in other parts of the country, too, I often see small cemeteries on private lands. Simple family cemeteries filled with crumbling spires and solid squatty granite blocks. Some are decorated with plastic flowers in every hue and variety, some with teddy bears and pin-wheels, some plain – but not forgotten, I hope.

My favorite grave markers are the ones that incorporate a bench. Not that I will have a bench near my eventual resting place, but I do like the idea of having a place for others to rest a bit, think quiet thoughts, re-consider and make new plans, go on with living. While still taking out a few moments of life to remember and honor.

I’m the cemetery visitor in my immediate family. I think, though, that I am the last in a long line of grave site caretakers. My great-grandmother and both grandmothers with whom I grew up  – they were all Sunday-morning-after-church-services visitors to the cemetery. I often accompanied them as I was the one with the young knees and strong arms. I could run along the gravel paths without fear of turning an ankle or falling. We often brought live plants that required digging holes, setting in, mounding, and watering. In Autumn, we brought rakes so that I could rake leaves off the long line of family plots. Even little clippers to trim the summer’s blades of grass that sprang up in the improper of places.

I still take my mother to the cemetery when I visit my hometown. We now decorate with artificial flowers that can be re-used every year.  And we decorate seasonally – Christmas poinsettias, then red and white carnations for Valentine’s Day, followed in quick procession by spring flowers, Memorial Day in red, white and blue, summer flowers, Fourth of July, and finally fall flowers. In early December we start with Christmas again. And the seasons recycle, each set of flowers returns to the cemetery at just the right time.

I’d rather just wander around, look around, examine. But the flower tradition has been in place for a hundred years in my maternal family. I don’t live near the family site. Hundreds of miles away, actually. So I wonder what will happen when I no longer have living relatives to visit in my hometown.