Labor Day Weekend Is When I Drive Home to Tend the Family Plot
Every Labor Day weekend, I pack my trunk with a bucket, soft brushes, and a jug of D/2 Biological Solution, and I drive three hours back to the little ceme
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Every Labor Day weekend, I pack my trunk with a bucket, soft brushes, and a jug of D/2 Biological Solution, and I drive three hours back to the little ceme
I'll never forget the phone call.
I’ll never forget my first screw-up with gold leaf.
I still remember the day I found my great-great-grandmother's headstone.
Last spring, I was out in an old cemetery near Millbrook, New York — the one with the overgrown boxwoods and the broken iron gate that squeaks like a dying
I’ve cleaned a lot of headstones over the years.
I’ll never forget the first time a family called me in a panic.
I'll never forget the first time I got yelled at in a cemetery.
I remember the first time someone asked me about it.
Last Veterans Day, I drove out to the National Cemetery like I always do.
My twin sister Claire and I were born on a scorching July morning 52 years ago.
I found my great-great-grandmother's headstone completely overgrown last spring.