Shannon's blog today featured her walk through a local cemetery in Jacksonville OR, along with pictures of old headstones that always tell a story.  It reminded me of something I wrote a couple of years ago:

Plumas-Eureka Mine State Park, Jonesville CA

Faces looking up at me through sepia tints of age;

Bride and groom,traditionally posed, he seated

She resting her hand on his shoulder,

Dress in their fanciest finery.

A group of boyhood chums, 

Arms around each others' shoulders,

Hats at a rakish angle, perched on a fence-rail,

Laughing out at us in teen-age abandon.

Tall skiers propped on long skis, smiling,

Their sunburned faces dark shadows

Against the backdrop of sun -

Their healthy zest for life bursting though.

The museum's collection impresses me

With artifacts of this by-gone era:

Gold mining tools, mine diagrams,

Funnels, scales, core samples.

But the images captured by unseen cameramen

Beckon me back again to will life into those

Hopeful newlyweds, prankish young boys,,

Long-dead, handsome skiers.

They don't make folks like that anymore, do they?

Boy, how could they have stood the cold?

How did women keep up their spirits and keep warm?

Quiet and admiring comments from visitors close by.

A small well-kept cemetery is filled with reminders

Of those hardy, propelled people:

Italians, Irishmen, Slavs, Germans,

All represented in ethnic isolation and solidarity.

Tall pine trees surround this tiny spot,

Sheltering them all in regal shade.

Are the happy newlyweds resting here,

Those adventerous and happy teen-agers

Those lean, intrepid skiers?

The photos in the museum were unmarked,

But these tomb engravings give wings to my imagination:

Mary, Beloved Wife

James, Honorable and Loving Husband.

WWI Survivor, Miner

Native of Ireland, Miner

Native of Italy, Miner,

Native of Jonesville, 

Undefeated long-distance Skier.