An Unexpected Find

Yesterday, I took a train to DC with the intention of visiting Rock Creek Park.  I was going to hike the Soapstone and Boulder Bridge trails, but had a change of heart.

As the train got me closer to my destination, I could see from my window new buildings and murals, which piqued my curiosity.  It was a no brainer for me to adjust my plan, which had me meandering through the city as I created my own walking tour for one.

I walked from the train station to Dupont Circle.  From there I walked to sister neighborhoods, reading historical markers and snapping photographs.  Ultimately, I got lost (that’s a first).

I continued my journey, hoping I would see a familiar landmark, sign – something.  Ultimately, I saw a cemetery.  That’s where I needed to be to get myself reoriented.  I had to cross a busy highway to get me there, but I made it, unscathed.

Once I crossed the street, I saw a walking path, which led me to a bridge.  From there it was an uphill climb on a dirt road.  At first, I thought the road was part of the cemetery, but it was not because there was fencing.

I continued on the path when I saw a small marker to the left of me, which I thought was odd.  Why would there be a lone grave on the side of a road?

I finally made it to the top!  I soon realized there were two cemeteries – one black, one white (that was a cringe-worthy moment).  To the left of me was Mt. Zion Cemetery: The Old Methodist Burying Ground / Female Union Band Cemetery (two adjoining burial grounds for the black community) – to the right, Oak Hill Cemetery (for the white community).

The contrast between the two was jarring.  To the left of me was an open cemetery in ruins.  To the right, a well-loved and well-tended one, shaded by tall trees, sweeping hills and expensive gravestones, and that fence I mentioned earlier.

At this point, I was feeling hungry and parched, so I decided to have lunch at Mt. Zion (I planned on Clyde’s for cocktails and appetizers, but it didn’t fit the mood for the day).  I sat on a bench drinking water and eating a granola bar, so I could see Oak Hill (the fenced cemetery) in the distance. I was thinking about life’s contradictions, the false truth narrative.  Considering everything going on in the world today, the past is the present and the present will be our future – a strong possibility, if we don’t get our act together.  That’s a "Debbie Downer" way of looking at it, but that doesn’t imply I am without hope for a new day.  Real change often seems so slow these days, but much of that has to do with people’s fear of the unknown, and their ignorance, too.  I am happy not being one of the latter. (I recently read, "without fear there cannot be courage" – perhaps.)

I was right where I needed to be yesterday, in a place of stories.  I looked at the broken grave markers at my feet and wondered about the people – who they were, what they did, the challenges they faced, etc.  What were their stories, and were they passed down to the next generation?  I wonder…

After leaving the cemetery and walking one block, I realized I was in Georgetown.  How did I not know?!  From Georgetown I walked to the train station.  That felt like the longest 3 miles of my life, but in the long run, it’s always worth it.

I appreciate the public art in my everyday life – the diversity of it all, and the scale.  I am thankful I can wander with a keen eye, and find places, like the cemetery above, that require me to think in a much deeper way. – paerki 

Additional Photos: Oak Hill Cemetery, Mount Zion Cemetery

Two articles worth reading, as they relate to my cemetery experience: At 2 Georgetown Cemeteries, History in Black and White, and Mount Zion Cemetery (Washington, DC)