Confessions of a Cemetery Junkie
I had a close encounter with Marilyn Monroe recently. I was in L.A. and decided to pay my respects to the iconic movie star, who rests in a cemetery tucked away near Westwood Village. My brother, who lives in the neighborhood, told me Marilyn has been in the news recently - the widow of the man buried in the wall vault above Marilyn (supposedly upside down) wanted to raise some money by auctioning off the vault and moving her husband. My brother also said the empty vault to the left of Marilyn is reserved for Hugh Hefner...it seems Marilyn is forever desirable.
While checking out the small, quiet memorial garden and the resting sites of Dean Martin, Farrah Fawcett, Natalie Wood and other Hollywood elite, I met a young man from Ohio who asked me to take his photo next to the tombs of Marilyn and Truman Capote. I told him I’ve been to other celebrity gravesites.
It all started with Isadora Duncan. I lived for many years on Nob Hill in San Francisco and once passed a building with a plaque announcing that it was the birth site of Isadora, the mother of modern dance. I was thrilled that fascinating Isadora was born not far from where I was living. Some years later, I was in Paris and made a pilgrimage to her final resting place in the Pere Lachaise cemetery. I also got a map and toured the graves of other notables buried there, like Edith Piaf (grave covered deep in flowers by current fans), Oscar Wilde (a winged white marble art deco monument covered in lipstick kisses), Sarah Bernhart, Jim Morrison (attended by young fans burning candles and playing guitars), Chopin, Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas (buried in the same grave), Moliere and legendary lovers Heloise and Abelard.
On other trips to Paris, at the small Passy cemetery across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower, I found the grave of Debussy; went to the cemetery in Montmartre to honor Nijinsky and see the sculpture of him dancing that was on his marker; and stopped by the cemetery in Montparnasse to seek out the sites of Jean Seberg (a fellow Iowa girl) and Jean Paul Sartre.
Twice I’ve taken ferries to San Michele, the cemetery island in Venice, propelled by the desire to find the tomb of Sergei Diaghilev, the colorful impresario of Ballets Russes. The first time, I saw that other dancers had been there before me and left their worn out toe shoes and roses. On the second visit, I left a pair of used up jazz slippers as my own offering to honor his accomplishments in the arts. Igor Stravinsky and Ezra Pound lie nearby.
I’ve been to Musician’s Corner in the Zentralfriedhof cemetery in Vienna (doing family research near the graves of the Strausses, Beethoven and Brahms). When searching for family graves in a small Bavarian village cemetery, friendly locals connected us with long-lost relatives and that led to being shown the very house my great-great-grandfather left in 1853 to journey to America. It also led to searching for family markers in the medieval walled town of Rothenburg ob der Tauber on Germany’s Romantic Road.
As I started thinking about these graveyard visits, I remembered many others. What about Santa Croce in Florence? Michelangelo, Machiavelli and Galileo rest in ornate vaults inside the basilica. Don’t forget Napoleon’s tomb at Les Invalides in Paris! What about Mao’s embalmed body in Tiananmen Square in Beijing and the Ming Tombs just north of the city? How about the terra cotta army and horses in the mausoleum of the first Qin emperor in Xian, China? The old Jewish cemetery off the square in Prague? Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey in London? The underground crypt of a Mayan king in Copan, Honduras – bats and all? A rural churchyard in Ireland where beautiful Celtic crosses marked the graves? The tomb of the first governor of Oregon, who led a wagon train across the Oregon Trail and who’s buried in a wonderful pioneer cemetery in Eugene? And then there were those cremation ceremonies in Bali. I got dizzy just remembering all the dead I’ve visited.
What is it about visiting cemeteries and the departed? I believe it follows naturally from honoring family members at their gravesites as I tried to fill in family knowledge and connect with the past. Visiting the gravesites of people who made their mark on history is a way for me to say, “you touched my life in some way.” What did these people who’ve gone before me accomplish during their chance at life and are there any lessons I can learn from them?
I think these visits also lend a preciousness to the present, as they keep the fact of fleeting time fresh in my consciousness. Carpe diem!
Jean Kepler Ross is an award winning freelance writer/photographer based in Santa Fe, NM. She was editor of GuestLife New Mexico for four years and her work has appeared in New Mexico Magazine, Glamour, Home & Away, Los Angeles Times, Santa Fe Visitors Guide, San Francisco Examiner, ASU Travel Guide, The Wall Street Journal and many other publications.
flickr photo by Jjackunrau
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15 Comments
Reader Comments (15)
I'm right there with you. Visiting local cemeteries is one of my favorite travel adventures too. I feel like I'm taking a walk through history. Thank you for your entertaining article.
It's really weird to take photo beside a graveyard even if it's the famous celebrity.
Me, too! Your article brings me back to the time I visited a pioneer cemetery just outside Zion National Park. In these "cemetery" moments I feel calm, connected to those who have gone before me and I feel totally present to how fabulous it is to be a conscious, creative being. Wonderful article. Thank you, Jeannie
I have often made photographs in cemetaries, in many countries. I love the art of the statuaries, honoring the art of the loved one's life. Thank you for your intriguing stories.
Oops! - I meant to say "cemeteries," (although I've seen both spellings). Nice article, in any case.
Your interesting article aroused new reflections on immortality...I liked your phrase "their chance at life" ...I'll ponder on that. Thanks, Jeannie.
Jeannie, you have to go to Buenos Aires and visit Evita! I never knew this about you. You can come to Charleston. We have a fantastic cemetary and you can ponder on the old South and its long ago inhabitants. I bet it is like none you have seen. Loved the piece, Edith
This is a very creative way of reminding ourselves that life is short and should be lived to its fullest. The information on the individual graves makes the story come alive - that's sort of a paradoxical pun. I found the information fascinating, and the essay inspiring. Thanks.
Jeannie,
This was such a simple and lovely article. I will have to visit the tomb of the first governor of Oregon when we are next in Eugene visiting our "Duck" son Ian. Also, my parents had a special place on our family property in Walnut Creek, CA where they would sit after dinner having coffee, reviewing the day and enjoying the impressive view. They called it the "Poet's Corner" and we were thrilled as children when we were asked to join them.
March 18, 2010 Lorna Lee Fadden
Thank you for the beautiful and poetic journey...I would love to hear what you would have to say about the cemeteries in Poland and Russia, especially on All Saints Day, truly an amazing sight with candles and iron crosses everywhere.
To the traveler who wrote about Poland and Russia, I would very much like to see those All Saints Day celebrations some day. I was lucky enough to visit Assisi on All Saints Day, one in a traffic-jammed throng of thousands, including hundreds of nuns in big, dramatic headdresses, paying respects to St. Clare and St. Francis.
Thanks for writing a story that brought me an understanding of why we do these things.
I’m reminded of the adventures I would take as a child growing up in rural Iowa. Our war game adventures would sometimes lead us to discover old family cemeteries tucked away in some small corner of a random field outside of town. Even as a child the stillness was undeniable. I too once visited the tomb of Marilyn Monroe, accompanied by a cousin living in the area. Here we met a man who had traveled from Quebec, Canada to pay his respects and adorn Marilyn’s tomb with red, white, and blue carnations. As I recall he had the flowers flown in from Holland the previous evening.
I love the story Jean!!
You mention Sartre, do not forget Simone de Beauvoir, who shares his grave site...and who asked to be buried wearing the ring Nelson Algren had given her.
David
Paris, France
Wonderful, Jeannie.. Loved every word of your article. Never knew that about you!!! My favorite cemetery is a cemetery in Virginia City, NV. Separated by iron fencing were the whores and the Chinese. I visited there often as a kid with my parents. They would have camel (yes) races next to the cemetery that we would watch....and then we would go to the Bucket of Blood Saloon for a sandwich.
You might want to catch this to see photos: http://www.graveaddiction.com/virgbob.html
My second amazing cemetery was stumbled upon when we went to Salzburg at Christmas, 1978. Close to midnight, Christmas eve we were on top of the tallest hill where the castle is and listened quietly to all the churches chiming Silent Night not in unison but a few notes from each church. When that was over we meandered down the hill,a light snow falling, enjoying all the wealthy Austrians in their full length furs (men and women) and their great dogs, also bundled up. The path ended in the courtyard of a big Catholic church. The courtyard had many niches (sp?) and a small cemetery. There was a service going on next to the biggest tomb in the cemetery. The priest was speaking (in Austrian). A man standing next to us translated to English: They were blessing the graves of the American soldiers who fought for Austria in WW II and died there. All those graves were Americans! All were tombs of un named soldiers. It was quite a scene and of course we all cried. SO touching to think how they honored Americans at that graveyard. I’ll never forget it.