Skip to main content

The Beautiful and the Dead Rest (Cont.): The Platypus Reads Part LX

 One of the Shelton plots that are ubiquitous in the town that bears their name as well as across the water in Derby.  The central monument is a modified obelisk with funerary urn and laurel wreath, signifying the race well run.  Below the laurel wreath is the Masonic compass and square indicating that Lewis Shelton (d. 1875 ae. 79 years) was a member of that society.  He is buried with his wife, Minerva Pierce Shelton, who also lived a full life for the time period (d. 1866 ae. 66 years).  From a distance, this monument exudes quiet, and genteel affluence, position, respect.  Now let us look to the right.

This is the grave of Nancy M. Shelton, daughter of Lewis and Minerva.  She died in 1859 at age fifteen.  The lily over her name symbolizes purity.  There is an inscription at the bottom of the stone, but I can't read it or find a transcription in the cemetery database.  How did she die?  During this period, Consumption killed up to a quarter of the population.  Nancy was too young for childbirth to be a likely cause of death.  The number one killer of women aged over twelve years in this period was cooking accidents.  Fifty percent of all children failed to live past their twelfth year.  Whatever the case may be, Nancy's stone reminds us that wealth and position are not bulwarks against tragedy in this or any age.  What were Nancy's hopes and dreams?  Did her parents have an eye on a young Wheeler, Clark, Hurd, or Hubble as a suitable match for their daughter?

This isn't the end of the story, however.  Step around Nancy's stone yo your left.

Here we find that Nancy's death wasn't the only tragedy to strike Lewis and Minerva's family.  They lost at least two more children in infancy, Mary and one too young to even have a name.  The death dates are recorded under the words "Our Children."

All the works of men may lie, but there is truth in tombstones.  They remind us that we aren't guaranteed anything.  That as T.S. Eliot said we are all dying -with a little patience.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

California's Gods: Strange Platypus(es)

We've noticed lately a strange Californian dialectical twist: there, freeways take the definite article.  In other parts of the country one speaks of I 91 or 45 North.  In California, there's The 5, The 405, The 10.  Each of these freeways has its own quirks, a personality of sorts.  They aren't just stretches of pavement but presences, creatures that necessitate the definite article by their very individuality and uniqueness.  They are the angry gods to be worked, placated, feared, for without them life in California as we know it would cease.  Perhaps that's fitting for a land whose cities are named for saints and angels.  Mary may preside over the new pueblo of our lady of the angels, but the freeways slither like gigantic serpents through the waste places, malevolent spirits not yet trampled under foot.

Seeing Beowulf Through Tolkien: The Platypus Reads Part CXCIX

After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment.  I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother.  Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men.  In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain.  Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage.  The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose.  If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...