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Posts Tagged ‘williston cemetery’

Wagner

I know exactly why I took this photograph. “Whitey” was not just Lewis Wagner’s nickname, it was also my maternal grandfather’s. I’ve posted before about how fascinating I find names, and that includes nicknames. I suppose my grandfather could have gotten the name “Whitey” from a brief period of time where he had white hair, but the photos I have seen of him indicate he began losing his hair fairly young and took the same approach my middle brother has to the problem – purposely buzzing or shaving the remaining hair makes it much less obvious how much of it has disappeared.

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Nelson

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There’s so much to learn about Dale Nelson’s life from his tombstone: his parents’ names, that his and his 3 siblings’ names all started with D, and that he served in Vietnam as a Navy operations specialist. He was also an Ohio State University fan, if not an alumnus. I can’t tell from my photos if that football helmet is supposed to be colored to represent a particular team or just a general enjoyment of football.

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Apthorpe

Williston Cemetery isn’t very big, but I found 2 firefighters buried fairly close to one another there. I can clearly make out that the second one was a volunteer, but I didn’t get a detailed enough photo of the first headstone to tell whether Mr. Apthorpe also was.

Smarkel

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Nero

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

Radloff

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Saviour is born
Christ, the Saviour is born

100_3428

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love’s pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth

Bernadette

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Erd

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This stone reminded me of my maternal grandparents. After my grandfather retired and sold his veterinary practice, Grandma and Grandpa spent months at a time traveling across the United States in their Bluebird motor home. They too traveled across the 48 contiguous U.S. states. They would arrive to visit us in the motorhome, park it at the cul-de-sac, and sleep there rather than in a guest room or in a hotel. The horn played a few bars of “On the Road Again” as they pulled back out at the end of the visit.

My grandfather’s failing eyesight forced them to sell the Bluebird when I was a young teenager. I hope that it brought happiness to another family in its new home.

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Cruthers

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Aging is a funny thing.  Sometimes you look at an old photograph of someone you’ve met and can’t see the person you know in the face looking back at you.  Other times, like Gloria Cruthers’ porcelain portrait, the only difference is wrinkles and a hair color maintained with a little help of the salon.

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