Memento mori

As you take West Main Street out of Nanticoke, PA into Newport Township, it becomes Old Newport Street. On the right, just past Turkey Hill and across from Barbara's Custom Floral, right before the road transforms again into River Road, there's an old cemetery built on some hills. As you approach the gate along the stretch of yellow brick road and past the memorial to coal miners, you're greeted by signs in Polish and English letting you know that this is Holy Trinity Cemetery. The tombstones there are old, many dating from the early years of the twentieth century, the most recent from the mid-1970s. (It's possible there are a few more recent graves there.) Most of the graves are untended, surrounded only by grass. Here and there some plastic flowers or an American flag - some new, some in tatters - indicate that some visitor has been by recently. But for the most part, the cemetery gives the feeling of only having been visited by those who keep the grass cut and trees trimmed.

When I was a kid my family had a weekly ritual. Every Sunday morning, we would head out to 9:00 mass. Afterwards, we would head down a few blocks to my grandmother's house to join the rest of the extended family for a breakfast of Polish sausage and bread washed down with coffee. We would pass around the Wilkes-Barre Sunday Independent and the Sunday edition of the New York Daily News, pulling out the funnies and the ads and Parade magazine. Afterwards the kids would gather in the living room to watch cartoons while the grown-ups sat and talked about the news of the week and the latest goings-on in town. Gradually the dishes would be cleared, and then my cousins' families would drift off home. After everyone else had gone, my grandmother would join my family in the car for a tour of the cemeteries where our family members were buried. Three different ones: Saint Mary's on Middle Road, where my grandfather is buried, along with my grandmother's brother and sister and my stillborn brother and, much later, my father and my uncle; Saint Mary's in Nanticoke, where my grandfather's relatives are buried; and Holy Trinity, where my grandmother's parents are.

Somewhere along the way these traditions ended. The Sunday sausage breakfasts dwindled. Cemetery visits were reduced to a single cemetery, and then none at all, at least on a weekly basis. I still visit the cemetery on Middle Road once in a while, and I can find the family plot in the cemetery in town with some effort. But recently I realized I had no idea where the grave in Holy Trinity is located.

I took today off to take my mom to some appointments. After they were done we went to Cracker Barrel for a late lunch or early dinner, and then went to Wal-Mart on a largely fruitless and frustrating shopping trip. On the way home we decided to take a drive through the cemetery on Middle Road. We drove past my mother's friend's family's grave; my mom used to put flowers on it on behalf of her friend, who lived out of state, and would call her to give her updates on how the grave looked. Since the friend died a few years ago, my mom has carried on in her memory. We also drove past my aunt's grave, the grave of my mother's sister. We then stopped at our family plot, very close to the entrance to the cemetery. When we were there I told my mom that I wanted to visit the grave at Holy Trinity sometime, just so I could remember how to find it. I think my mom understood my concern that when she is gone, there might not be anyone who remembers how to find the grave. We decided to make that our next stop.

It took some doing - I overshot the first time, and had to loop around - but we found it. For future reference, its approximate coordinates in latitude and longitude are 41.196485, -76.014432.

It can be seen from the road, barely, just after the curve straightens out. It's on a steep downhill slope, a few rows behind the double marker with the vase, a few rows over from the grave that looks like an above-ground crypt, near some red stones and a pair of cross-shaped markers.

It can be located by using the trees on the perimeter of the cemetery. Line up the two trees near the Main Street entrance with the space between the fourth and fifth trees from the right along the east side, near the Turkey Hill, and you'll be in the right general area.

Facing toward Main Street

So now I know how to locate my grandmother's parents' grave. And I've put that information somewhere I'll be able to find it.

Cemetery walk, October 13, 2013

Northeastern Pennsylvania was on track to have vivid leaf colors this Fall: lots of daytime sunshine and cold nights. Then another heat wave hit, or at least unseasonably warm daytime and nighttime temperatures for a period of two weeks or so (and counting.) Now the colors of the leaves that changed color are fading, lots of trees are still green, and lots of leaves are falling. I'm hoping this won't be my only Cemetery Walk this Fall.

While setting up to take pictures of the "yellow brick road" (the bricks are actually pink) between the two halves of the cemetery complex (which contains at least four cemeteries), I noticed a group of people emerging from the cemetery gate at the top of the hill - two women pushing strollers, and some children. Idyllic as heck, but it spoiled my shot. So I turned my camera on the ruins of the Duplin / Skatarama. As the women approached, I bid them good day, and one stopped and asked me about the building I was photographing. I told her about its history as a silk throwing mill, its later life as a skating rink and bowling alley, the fire that destroyed it over twenty years ago, and its later use as a marijuana growing operation.

My grandfather used to be a supervisor at the Duplin Throwing Mill. I used to go skating here. It burned down about twenty years ago.

All of the roads of Nanticoke that were paved were paved with this brick, once upon a time not too long ago. Within my living memory, for some of them, anyway.

The brick is actually pink, and chamfered on the edges, and a few years ago someone thought it would be fun to do a burnout here.

Some parts of the cemetery have become distressingly unkempt in the years since my last Cemetery Walk.

A fallen branch or secondary trunk, left where it fell. Groundskeeping has simply mowed around it.

Fortunately it did not crush either of these monuments.

Possibly a home-built monument, made of concrete with an iron plaque. The name and information have weathered off.

Another likely home-made monument. This one is only a few inches tall.

Trying to recreate a photo from the last Cemetery Walk.

A gorgeous filigreed iron cross. I've never seen a monument like this before.

Another iron cross, almost certainly a home-built.

Yet another iron cross of a different design than the other two. All three are within fifteen feet of each other.

Red Clover amongst the leaves. 

I'd like to do this again after the leaves have changed a bit more, but nothing in this life is guaranteed. So I figured I'd do this today, and do it again in a week or two if possible.


Related posts:
Cemetery Walk, October 18, 2008
Cincinnatus at the plow, October 19, 2008
The Ruins, February 22, 2005
Piñatas from Hell, March 14, 2005
Cemetery and the Duplin, March 3, 2009
The South Mountains, March 6, 2009

The South Mountains

I got a few more photos as I made my way home past the cemeteries this past Monday. But remembering this photo, I decided to try to get images of the mountains that form the South border of the Wyoming Valley. So I managed to squeeze in two more panoramic shots, from perhaps 250 feet apart.

This first image is made of nine (!) overlapping photos and covers about 180 degrees. According to Google Earth, the snow-dusted humps in the middle distance are about 1.66 miles away, while the higher ridges are more like two miles, and are only about 850 feet higher than the spot where I was standing.


The same, but different: this panorama, a composite of five photos, is taken from about 250 feet to the East of the previous one. The main feature in the distance is Luzerne County Community College - just a quarter mile away, and easily accessible by foot if it weren't for the huge gully that surrounds it like a moat on its North side.

Here's an oblique Google Earth view of many of the places covered in this walk, facing South. The cemetery complex occupies much of the lower half, with the yellow brick road of South Walnut Street dividing it into two unequal parts. The Duplin (Skatarama / Bowl-O-Rama) is visible at the lower left. (The damage to the Skatarama side, with its missing roof, is visible even here.) Luzerne County Community College is in the upper middle left. The mountains that form the Southern border of the Wyoming Valley are in the distance.


Finally, here is an overhead shot, with North at the top (as is the standard convention.) Plymouth Mountain is at the middle top. The Susquehanna flows from the right top to the middle left of the image. Interstate 81 slashes across the lower right, paralleling the mountains and then slicing through them.


Naturally, as soon as I was clear of the cemeteries the sun emerged from behind the clouds, casting beautiful shadows on the snow. But by then it was too late for me. I had to finish the walk to my mom's house, shovel the sidewalks, and then start thinking about lunch. It was nearly 4:00, after all!

Cemetery and the Duplin

Ruins of the old Duplin Mill as seen from Nanticoke Cemetery.
Composite of four photos taken March 2, 2009.
Open in new window/tab for larger version.

This was my first stop on my walk through the cemetery cluster that occupies much of the south central section of Nanticoke. I've long wanted to do a photo session with these ruins as seen from the cemetery, and with recent rumblings suggesting that a plan is in the works to tear the place down, I figured now was as good a time as any, and better than some.

This building has had several identities over the decades: it was the Duplin Mill, an old "throwing mill" where my grandfather was a foreman. Later it was McGregor Sportswear, and then was converted in the 1970's into L.S. Skatarama / Bowl-O-Rama by local businessman George Ellis.

Skatarama - which occupied the right half of the building, as seen in this photo - was destroyed by fire in 1992, but Bowl-O-Rama continued to operate in the undamaged half of the building up until last year. Now the building is vacant. Every few years a plan is announced to tear down the place; this is accompanied by a brief flurry of demolition activity, which usually results in a big pile of bricks and other assorted rubble appearing on the sidewalk in front of the place. All activity then stops. Eventually the bricks are taken away. Then nothing else happens until the next announcement of plans to demolish the place.

Now that Bowl-O-Rama is closed, though, it seems more likely that demolition plans may actually be carried through. That's too bad. This used to be a major center of industry in Nanticoke, and then a major recreation center. Maybe once it could have been one or the other of those things again. But now it is a crumbling husk, a ruined hulk occupying half of a block. Still, even in the state it's in, it is a huge and imposing structure. I'm glad I got to photograph it before it's torn down.

Cincinnatus at the plow

This is a cemetery. In Nanticoke. Can you believe it?

Honestly, I cannot wait for this election to be over. I am at the point of allowing myself a small glimmer of hope that the outcome will be one that I see as being the best for America, and for the world at large. But not everyone shares this point of view, and I find myself being drawn into conflict. I don't like conflict. I prefer to lay out my arguments in a logical, coherent manner, and have people apply their reasoning skills and experience-based insights to conclude that what I am saying is correct. But not everyone follows this program, and I need to shift up to a higher level of disputation. After a while, this gets exhausting.

Something was bound to give. I decided this week that I would be one of King Harry's "warriors for the working day," and give myself the weekends off to blog about the things I damn well wanted to.

Well, I started off with a long weekend: On Thursday I unleashed the first official post of The Stained Glass Project, an effort to photographically document the stained glass windows in my parish church, which may or may not be slated for closing in the near future.

On Friday I recounted a Cemetery Walk from the Sunday before.

Saturday I was supposed to head off to Confirmation practice with my nephew, who I am sponsoring; when this was cancelled five minutes before I was going to walk out the door, I found myself literally all dressed up with no place to go. So I decided to take the opportunity to begin another project of mine: photographically documenting all of the Churches of Nanticoke. I headed out at 9:00 to take advantage of the morning sunlight, and hadn't wrapped things up until nearly noon. (Even then I discovered that I had overlooked one of the churches, and went back out to take its picture, as well as to retake any pictures that hadn't turned out as well as I had hoped.

I tried to get more stained glass photos after Mass yesterday afternoon, but the sun set before the Mass ended and I wound up with interesting, even disturbing, images of the windows by reflected light. Before Mass the priest played a recorded message from Bishop Martino on the subject of church closings, advising parishioners throughout the Diocese of Scranton that in most cases no decisions have been made yet, but everyone must realize that we are no longer living in the 19th or 20th centuries when many of these parishes were founded, but must deal with the realities of the 21st-century world. (Interesting advice from someone who is generally regarded as having an attitude more in keeping with the 15th or 16th centuries.)

After this recording played, the priest announced that the Bishop had asked all parishes to set aside October 19th as a special "Day of Prayer" for the future of the Diocese. So the priest announced that, in compliance with this request, the church would be left open all day Sunday so that parishioners could come and pray at a time convenient to them. A plan started to take shape in my mind.

Like all of my plans, it was highly modular. The modules included another cemetery walk, and a Fall Foliage photo tour, and another session for The Stained Glass Project. Possibly all undertaken on foot, or possibly involving a car. Last week's cemetery walk involved my car, and it was a bit of a pain having to backtrack to where I had originally parked rather than continuing on foot across town to my house. After I took a shower this morning the plan was that I would drive across town to the church, grab my photos before the 11:30 Mass, and then make my way back by car stopping at several cemetery and landscape destinations along the way. But things came up that delayed me to the point that I would only have a few minutes to take photos before the start of Mass, which meant potentially disturbing other parishioners. So the plan was revised: I would head out on foot, meander though the cemeteries, and arrive at the church after Mass had let out around 12:30.

Large panorama of one of the Nanticoke cemeteries, taken 10/19/08.
Combination of three separate photos.

The cemetery walk was a downright Rockwellian experience. As I slowly made my way through multiple cemeteries, watching the Moon gradually set in the Northwest behind an Autumn landscape, the sounds of the announcer for the Nanticoke Junior Varsity football game being played more than half a mile away rang clearly across the graves. Church bells rang for noon, then for twelve-thirty, and I knew that Mass was now over and I would be able to finish my walk across town, enter the church and -


- well, as it turned out, I had the whole place to myself. Which was good, in a way, as far as getting photographs went. Though it saddened me somewhat that I was the only one there, at least for the entire period I spent inside - maybe fifteen minutes to a half hour. Still, I may now have everything I need to finish off the photographic portion of this project.

Tomorrow is Monday, and time to shift gears once again back to politics, to make what meager contribution I can to the cause. Not for much longer, just two more weeks or so. Then the election will be over. And then, like Cincinnatus, we will all be able to get back to our plowing.