So recently, I visited a cemetery and something rather bizarre happened. I pulled into the cemetery, and a caretaker was using a weedwhacker to trim the grass around some of the headstones. Although I was there during the posted gate hours, the caretaker must not be used to seeing people come in so early, because he actually stopped the weedwhacker to look at me. I waved at him, and he weakly waved back. He seemed even more taken aback when I drove to one of the older sections of the cemetery and stepped out of the car with my camera. I looked over my shoulder in between photographing monuments and noticed that he was paying attention to what I was doing – not in an unfriendly way, more like someone who is seeing something unexpected and isn’t quite sure what to make of it.
Well, sadly, it appears I distracted this caretaker too much, because after a few moments, I turned around because I heard his truck back up on the grass. Where his truck had been, there was a white, government-issue military headstone lying flat, which I was fairly certain had not been there when I drove by.
It was my turn to watch, as he attempted to right the tombstone he had just backed over. He seemed to have it reset by the time I left.
A Grave Concern 