Dangerous trees?

I read in yesterday's Orlando Sentinel that there is some controversy brewing at one of the cemeteries we rabbits visited recently.

Apparently, Progress Energy has removed a stand of old oak trees along a one mile stretch of Rinehart Road--the namesake of adjacent Oaklawn Cemetery.

According to them, the trees were "dangerously close" to one of their 230-kilovolt transmission lines.

Their fear is a hurricane or tropical storm might blow thru and drop limbs on said line, thus disrupting power to area residents.

Hmmmm . . .

These trees somehow managed to survive the horrendous '04 season, among many others. Power outages are just something we have to expect in those situations. Progress Energy's fear doesn't justify, in my humble opinion, destroying the character of the neighborhood they claim as their primary concern.

What's done is done, though. I guess we will just have to wait and see what sort of "appropriate low-growing trees" they plant in the oak stand's stead.

Maybe, the folks in Lake Mary should rename their old burial ground "Appropriate Low Growing Tree Lawn Cemetery" when they get done . . .

Graveyard wildlife

We graveyard rabbits are well aware of the fact that cemeteries are (or can be) places full of life.

That irony seems to be lost on most folks.

But, all they have to do is open their eyes to both flora and fauna, especially down in this little corner of heaven where the winters are so mild.

A recent visit to Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando confirmed this.

Rising from the tombstone littered grounds and jutting above the treeline is an active bald eagle nest that could have inspired Dr. Seuss.

And scampering around the gravestones--not to mention along the paths that divide up the various sections--is a veritable menagerie.

I didn't spot any other rabbits, just yours truly. But, there were tons of birds.

Most of them fled, either on foot or on wing, when my indelicate clodhoppers approached with a camera . . . like I was a gaggle of paparazzi trying to capture their images for the front page of the National Enquirer.

I did manage to snap one good pic of a little white crane, though.

Enjoy!

An accusation carved in stone

One of the most eye-catching sites within the bounds of Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando is the Weeks mausoleum, mostly because just about everybody around this little corner of heaven was buried in the ground.

Anyway, if ye rabbits are brave enough to closely inspect the mausoleum, you will find a curious Bible verse (Luke 10:30):

"A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves."

There's a fairly humorous story behind that inscription.

It seems Fred S. Weeks came to these parts from Quincy, Illinois, in the late 1800s, and began searching for a good piece of land to start an orange grove.

He traveled the countryside and came upon a promising parcel of land that some locals were already clearing for that purpose. They were piling up the scrub brush in a pile and burning it to make way for rows of new citrus trees.

Seeing this, Mr. Weeks eagerly made an offer on the property, figuring the current owner had already done the hard work of clearing it. He should have been slightly suspicious when his offer was accepted just as quickly . . .

When he and his wife went out to the property to build their new home, they discovered all the smoke from the scrub fires had masked the view of the entire tract of land. As it turned out, clear skies revealed a boggy marsh unsuitable for citrus. They had been swindled!

Exhausting all normal means of recovery from the swindlers, Mr. Weeks erected his mausoleum in Greenwood Cemetery. At the time, as pointed out in previous posts, the cemetery did double duty as a public park and had quite a lot of pedestrian traffic. So, you can imagine how embarassed the swindlers were when they found their names had been chiseled below the aforementioned Bible verse for all their neighbors to read!

Long story longer, they settled-up with Mr. Weeks and he allowed them to pay someone to remove their names. (You can still see the "blank" space beneath the verse where the swindler's names used to be listed!)

References:
* 1870 Census, Adams County, Illinois, page 427b.
* 1880 Census, Adams County, Illinois, page 589a.
* 1900 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 45b.
* 1910 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 206b.
* 1920 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 130b.

Old newspapers add stories to the stones

Have you ever hopped upon a grave marker and wondered what it WASN'T telling you?

You know, most of them will give you a name and a couple of vital dates. But, there is so much more to a person's life than the beginning and the end.

Now, we local rabbits have a great online resource for finding out more by perusing old newspapers posted at this website:

http://www.wppl.org/

For example, yours truly wanted to know more about this Civil War veteran Nathan H. Fogg (20 June 1838 - 26 March 1916) who was buried in the GAR section of Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando.

I found his obituary printed in the 30 March 1916 edition of the Winter Park Post:

DEATH OF NATHAN H. FOGG

Nathan H. Fogg died at his home in Altamonte Springs Sunday evening. Mr. Fott has resided in Altamonte Springs for the past 32 years and was dearly beloved by all who knew him. In the words of one who knew him well, "He was a self-made man, a devoted husband, and a loving father--ever willing to lend to the poor and afflicted. He will be sadly missed by those whom he assisted in times of distress."

The funeral services took place Tuesday morning. The cortege left at 10 o'clock for Greenwood Cemetery, where after the Masonic ritualistic burial service, the interment was made in the G.A.R. burial ground. Undertaker Carey Hand was in charge of the arrangements.

The deceased was in his seventy-seventh year. He moved her to what was then Orange County from Saco, Maine. He is survived by his wife and two daughters, Mrs. J.W. Osteen of Altamonte, and Mrs. J.M. Tracy of Colville, Wash.

Who is this blogger?!

All the details that are fit to print may be found in this introduction:

http://www.thegraveyardrabbit.com/2008/12/meet-central-florida-graveyard-rabbit.html

Why did she get the nicer stone?!

Today, we rabbits hop north of Orlando to visit Longwood Memorial Gardens, just east of Ronald Reagan Boulevard.


Longwood was one of the communities in this little corner of heaven that was founded by Northerners after the railroad came in the 1880s and opened the region for settlement. In fact, it was named for a suburb of Boston. But, I digress . . .


The oldest gravemarker yours truly could find here was this finely-cast stone belonging to a Civil War widow.


Here's the transcript, in case your eyes fail you:

DRUSILLA

MARGARET

SCOTT

Wife of

JOHN O. MOORE

Born

Jun 22, 1847

Died

Oct 15, 1903

Not too far away this much simpler, government-issued stone marks her husband's final resting place. It gives the unit he served in during the Civil War, but no vital dates whatsoever.

I did a little sleuthing and found Mr. Moore was born in September 1834. He and Drusilla lived at Centre in Perry County, Pennsylvania, before moving to this little corner of heaven in the late 1800s. As a young man, he worked as an egraver, but eventually turned to farming. They had 7 children, though only 4 survived to adulthood.

We rabbits get so used to seeing matching stones for married couples, or even one stone bearing the names of both husband and wife. Isn't it a little odd that the Moores should have such very different markers?

References:

* 1870 Census, Perry County, Pennsylvania, page 30a.

* 1880 Census, Perry County, Pennsylvania, page 181b.

* 1900 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 36b.

Bone Mizell's odd sense of post-mortem justice

Yesterday's post about the practice of disinterring folks who were already at rest and shipping them up north reminded yours truly of a story told about local legend Morgan Bonaparte "Bone" Mizell. (Yes, he was kin to the Mizells mentioned in previous posts!)

Anyway, Bone had two buddies die on him at about the same time, back when Central Florida was a rough and tumble frontier. One of them was an old "cracker" named John Underhill. The other was a sickly young man from a wealthy New Orleans family who ironically came down here seeking to improve his health, whose name has been lost to history.

Both of Bone's buddies were laid to rest next to one another, but neither grave site enjoyed the benefit of a fancy marker. So, when the sickly fellow's family came down here to dig up the young man and take him back north, they had to ask Bone where his remains were buried.

Well, as Bone saw it, the young man had left New Orleans for a reason and wouldn't want to go back there if he could speak for himself. And, old John Underhill had never seen much of this world beyond Florida, much less enjoyed a train ride.

So, you can guess what happened next . . .

If you'd like to read more about the exploits of Bone Mizell, check out Jim Bob Tinsley's book "Florida Cow Hunter." (ISBN 0-8130-0985-5)