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My fascination with cemeteries began when I was a child, when my father would take me to our local one in New Jersey to pay our respects to lost relatives. While he stood in thought over the grave of his father or brother, I’d wander. In the back end of this cemetery were the older graves. Every third or fourth headstone I walked by had a picture on it — a photo of the dead person lying in their coffin. These photos were in small, weatherproof oval frames attached to the headstone, and I’d stare at the man or woman lying in the white silky cushions of the coffin. The ones that I was especially drawn to were the photos of dead young children. As you can imagine, these pictures were somewhat eerie and spooky and made me wonder: How did they die and why did they die so young? I learned while researching this post that the tradition of post-mortem portraits and photography was popular in the 19th century and is still practiced in some cultures. 

Let’s travel ahead about 20 years. When my close band of lifelong Jersey Girl friends and I turned 30, we started taking a weekend trip together once a year to various cities around the country. My cemetery fascination was rekindled anew. In each city, I’d visit the cemetery because I came to learn that its hallowed grounds not only held history and stories of that region, but a glimpse into its culture, architecture and environment.

Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah, Georgia, is situated on a cliffside overlooking the Wilmington River. As I walked among the old oaks and hanging moss trees that draped over the pathways, I found the grave of four-time Oscar winner Johnny Mercer, the fantastic lyricist who wrote the words to “Moon River” for Henry Mancini’s beautiful composition and so many other famous tunes. I took another turn and saw the famous bird girl statue that was featured in the thrilling novel and movie “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.”

While in Georgia, we also hiked the Appalachian Trail, where strangers would hand you their walking sticks as they left the path, which is the custom. Our cabin was on a rural backroad. Taking a walk one night, I saw a small stone graveyard from the 1850s in the backyard of a home. It was a common practice to bury the dead on family property back then.

A trip to culturally rich New Orleans isn’t complete without a visit to one of their 40 cemeteries. The most popular is St. Louis Cemetery on the edge of the French Quarter where in one errant lapse of judgment, I gave an offering at the mausoleum holding the remains of Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau. Because NOLA has a high water table, bodies cannot be buried, so elaborate crypts and tombs hold the dead instead and echo the city’s French, Spanish and Caribbean influences. 

A trip to France to celebrate our 50th birthdays yielded a double trove of historic cemeteries. Some art lovers might consider this a travesty, but the weather on our first day in Paris was so splendid we skipped the Louvre and the crowds around Mona Lisa and headed to the La Pere Lachaise Cemetery in search of the grave of rocker Jim Morrison, who died in Paris. The former lead singer of The Doors was hard to find, as Morrison’s grave is simple and nondescript. But after turning corner after corner, we sniffed a strong smell of weed and knew we were close. We followed the aroma to the gravesite, where other tourists gathered, leaving marijuana cigarettes, bottles of beer and notes to Jim. (Jim Morrison’s gravesite has become a top attraction in Paris.)

Days later, we got in our rented car and drove two hours to the Normandy American Cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach. My best friend’s uncle was buried there, and she was the first family member to visit. A guide took us to his grave, picked up the orange clay soil and rubbed it into his marble tombstone, revealing his name, date of birth and death. As I looked around, I saw hundreds of graves of young men from all over the U.S., just 18 to 21 years old who died during the D-Day invasion there. The most somber and humbling experience of my life. (9,388 Americans are buried there including 45 pairs of brothers, side by side.)

Cemeteries continue to attract me. While working the census in 2020 I stumbled upon a historic graveyard at St. John the Baptist Church in Old Folsom and explored it. The church is the oldest Catholic church in Sacramento, dating back to the 1850s. In September, Managing Editor Dakota Morlan and I toured the Old City Cemetery in Sacramento, where many of the city’s founders are laid to rest. I asked our docent Lori Bauder what makes cemeteries so captivating.

“A lot of it is the history. They see a name and think if they’re related,” Bauder says, looking around at all the gravestones. “This is a very calm, tranquil place.”  

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