Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
a spot as I had ever seen. I had a look at the obelisk. COMMEMORATING PEACHAM
SOLDIERS1569,itsaid,andhadnamescarvedinit,goodNewEnglandnameslikeElijah
W. Sargent, Lowell Sterns, Horace Rowe. There were forty-five names in all, too many
surelyforamerehamletinthehills.Butthenthecemeterybesidegreenalsolookedfartoo
large for the size of town. It covered the hillside and the grandeur of many of the monu-
ments suggested that this had once been a place of wealth.
I went through the gate and had a look around. My eye was caught by one particularly
handsome stone, anoctagonal marble column surmounted byagranite sphere. The column
loggedthecopiousdeathsofHurdsandtheirnearrelativesfromCapt.NathanHurdin1818
to Frances H. Bement in 1889. A small panel on the back said:
Nathan H. died July 24 1852 AE. 4 Y'S 1 M'O.
Joshua F. died July 31 1852 AE. 1 YR 11 M'S.
Children of J. & C. Pitkin.
What could it have been, I wondered, that carried off these two little brothers just a week
apart? A fever? It seemed unlikely in July. An accident in which one died and the oth-
er lingered? Two unrelated events? I pictured the parents crouched at Joshua F.'s bed-
side, watching his life ebb, praying to God not to take him as well, and having their
hopes crushed. Isn't life shitty? Everywhere I looked there was disappointment and heart-
break re corded in the stones: JOSEPH, SON OF EPHRAIM AND SARAH CARTER,
DIED MARCH 18 1846, AGED 18 YRS, ALMA FOSTER, DAUT. OF ZADOCK AND
HANNAH RICHARDSON, D. MAY 22, 1847, AE. 17 yrs. So many were so young. I be-
cameinfectedwithaninexpressiblemelancholyasIwanderedaloneamongthesehundreds
of stilled souls, the emptied lives, the row upon row of ended dreams. Such a sad place! I
stood there in the mild October sunshine, feeling so sorry for all these luckless people and
their lostlives, reflecting bleakly onmortality andonmyowndear,cherished family sofar
awayinEngland,andIthought,“Well,fuckthis,”andwalkedbackdownthehilltothecar.
I drove west across Vermont, into the Green Mountains. The mountains were dark and
round and the valleys looked rich. Here the light seemed softer, sleepier, more autumnal.
There was color everywhere-trees the color of mustard and rust, meadows of gold and
green, colossal white barns, blue lakes. Here and there along the highways roadside pro-
duce stands brimmed with pumpkins and squash and other autumn fruits. It was like a day
triptoheaven.Iwanderedaroundonbackroads.Therewasasurprisinglotofsmallhouses,
some little better than shacks. I supposed there couldn't be much work in a place like Ver-
mont. The state has hardly any towns or industry. The biggest city, Burlington, has a pop-
