Charleston, Part 1

Last week, my friend YA and I went to Charleston, sadly, just a little bit too late to see KJ and meet JB. I have lots of pictures of the trip--YA just gave me a CD with 299 pictures from our 3 day, 2 night jaunt, so expect to see a number of Charleston pictures over the next few days, but probably in little, managable clumps.

Our first day, we got there too late to do any of the touristy things, really, because all of the houses were about to close. It had been a full day of driving, and since YA does not drive, it had all been on me and it had taken a VERY, VERY long time. This size of the south is a novelty to me, having lived my whole live in New England. I went to college about three and a half hours from home and went through 4 states to get there. Anyway, when we arrived, I bought a self guided walking tour for $4.26, and we set out. I love the historical facts and YA loves to photograph, so we were a well matched set. We also both love (and are perhaps a bit obsessed with) cemetaries. The first installment of pictures, then are from 2 old Chaleston burial grounds.

This is the dissenting church, called, I believe, the Circle Church. It was the home to the few southern Puritains, and some other Calvinist types. (Eventually, the Hugenouts got their own church, but they started out here, as, I believe did a few early Dutch Reformed folks.



In their graveyard were several tombstones in a notably Purtain style--you see these markers all over New England, espectiially in places like Massacusetts and Connecticut. This one is a classic style:



The point of the skull was to remind mourners and anyone else who saw it of their own mortality. I assume that the reminder of death's immanence and such was also the idea behind this one. I am not going to go so far as to say that the tree is actually the tree of life, toppled over. I mean, I have no idea. But I assume that is basically the sentiment in question.



I don't have any intepretation of this one, excpet maybe that it valorizes a scholarly life, or maybe just a literate one, but I loved the image of a reading person on a headstone.



A bit later, we went into the Anglican graveyard. There are some very important people buried in this cemetary, though to be honest, I forget whom. I am much more interested in graves of the anonymous people. Not to be trite, but it does tend to make me think of the line from the Smith's song, Cemetry Gates:

"We go inside and we gravely read the stones. All those people, all those lives where are they now? With loves, and hates, and passions just like mine. They were born and then they lived and then they died."

Anyway, here are the cemetary gates, or at least one of them:



Inside the graveyard, I was struct by how very different the aesthetic of the cemetary was from that of the Circle Church. Where that graveyard had been full of skulls and such, the Anglican churchyard was full of crosses. (Note, that I think the Anglican church is marginally older.) Here are some examples:





Here is one of my favorite photos, of a nook in the graveyard--what a wonderful place to spend eterinity. YA and I actually had a conversation about that, in which she announced that she would like to be buried there. "But you would be dead, I said. You would not know that you were there at all." "Of course I would," she said.



In addition to the tombstones, the Anglicans had some beautiful plants. This is Oleandar. I love the word almost as much as the flower, but it is something of a dangerous plant. It is related to foxglove, which is digitalis. It can damage your heart. In fact, I read a mystery novel once in which someone with a weak heart killed himself with oleandar rather than go to trial for a death that he had accidently/intentionally caused. Dangerous or not, it is lovely.