For those of you unfamiliar with family history research (what I like to call "Crack Cocaine for the Over-50 Set"), this is a website containing literally millions of names that volunteers have posted from cemeteries across the world. You can search for famous people or just the ordinary folks that grace your family tree and if you're lucky, find out where they're buried. This can be a gold mine if you've exhausted more traditional records repositories and still don't know enough about that elusive ancestor. Knowing where they're planted can open all kinds of doors to death certificates and obituaries and other ways to find the information needed to knit the generations together.
Such was the case with my uncle, Sidney Francis Atkins, Jr. Since I'm not posting this from home, a photograph of Sidney will have to wait, but Sidney was my father's half-brother. My grandfather, Arthur Jackson Hardy Sr. married a woman by the name of Nettie Blanche Kirby Atkins. What happened to Mr. Atkins is a mystery (hopefully, not for long), but when she married my grandfather, Nettie already had a little boy by the name of Sidney. When my Dad came along, Sidney was probably five or six years old and I've got some smashing pictures of the two of them together. The only other tidbit of info that I've ever had about Sidney is that while my Dad was stationed overseas during World War II, he was planning to meet up with Sidney (who was also in the service), but Sidney died before the meeting could take place. It didn't take much to locate a smidgen of veteran's info on Sidney--the National Archives has records showing that he enlisted in the Army from Jim Wells County, Texas, and that he achieved the rank of 1st Lt. before dying in 1945 of a "non-battle related" cause. Up until just two weeks ago that's all I knew.
Then I stumbled on his name on Find-a-grave.com. It turns out that he's buried in Lockhart Cemetery, about 50 miles south of Austin, Texas. An e-mail to the volunteer, Judy Rogers, who posted his name resulted in an almost immediate response. Yes, she lives near Lockhart and yes, she'd love to go photograph the headstone so that I can see what other information might be engraved there. It turns out she has relatives buried just over the Alabama state line in Cleburne County, so I volunteered to take photographs of those graves in gratitude for her willingness to shed some light on Sidney. Bright and early this morning I was headed west, armed with my camera, her e-mail, and a short list of photo requests from other people who have relatives in the same cemetery.
Too. Much. FUN! I only encountered two problems and the first turned out to be a non-problem, but it did make me pause to think once or twice.
First, the cemetery was 50 miles from NOWHERE, near a town that can't even be described as a "wide place in the road." A "wide place in the road" would be too big. We're talking a rusty mobile home with underwear hanging on the clothesline about every three miles or so, and that's IT. I did my best to stop imagining the faint strains of a banjo when I got out of my car to ask directions at the only retail establishment I'd seen for about 30 miles. The crumbling shack was covered in Skoal and Budweiser advertisements but the hand-lettered sign proclaimed "Yes, we're OPEN," so I ventured inside. The man behind the counter had most of his teeth and although he looked at me like I was nuts when I asked where Blake Cemetery was, he was perfectly cordial. If there was a shotgun behind the counter, at least he didn't wave it at me.
I got back in the car, headed down the road according to his directions, and promptly slowed down to avoid hitting the biggest bloodhound I've ever seen, ambling across the dusty road to the shade of a giant oak tree. Dunno if the dog belonged to the guy on the tractor at the side of the road, but I slowly cruised through the clouds of dust he was generating and forged on.
When I found the cemetery, just off Cleburne County Road #10, I ran into my second problem. I was totally unprepared for off-roading in Alabama. My car, affectionately known as The Golden Calf, had no trouble negotiating the deeply rutted, muddy hill that led to the center of the graveyard, but when I got out, I realized I was in trouble. I was wearing capris, a t-shirt, sandals, and a baseball cap. The capris had no pockets, so, ever mindful of the isolated spot I was in, I tried stuffing my cell phone in one side of my waistband and my car keys in the other. One hand held the papers and pen I needed to transcribe names and the other held my camera.
Making a mental note to bring some kind of backpack next time, I found the first grave I was looking for rather quickly and, hardly able to contain my excitement, I knelt down to frame the best shot. Now, mind you, most of the cemetery was overgrown with all manner of noxious weeds and underbrush and, unfortunately, I missed the fact that there were fire ants EVERYWHERE. It's a damn shame no one was there to film this creaky old lady, dancing all over the graves, slapping the offending bugs with my paperwork while the cell phone and car keys fell out of each pant leg. After a quick trip back to the car, I started over again with cell phone and car keys inside the camera case hung around my neck. Better.
By the time I finished with all the photo requests, I was bug-eaten, sweaty, sunburned, and dirty. What a way to spend a day off, right? But I ended up with a number of bonus shots--including the one at the top of this page. There were several other babies resting peacefully in that graveyard--this was one of the few who lived long enough to be given a name. At least now, their information will be included for Blake Cemetery on Find-a-grave.com. Hopefully someone out there will claim them and knit them securely into their own family tree. I couldn't possibly think of a better way to spend my day off.
UPDATE: Sidney Francis Atkins and Arthur Jackson Hardy, Jr.
My Uncle and my Dad....
