Strong Street and the Cemetary

This is the Hoffman house which was right before our corner on North Strong Street.  Mr. Hoffman was quite the gardener and he first built a basement house and then built the house on top of it, but they lived in the basement for about a year.

 And here is the N. Strong Street sign.  We were so proud when they put it up because it made us think we were really important.

When we lived here we had a bare board one story house with a cracked cement front slab porch.  There were 2 big catalpa trees in front one of which we could climb and survey our kingdom.  This is the same place under the Catalpa trees that Jake and I used to listen to the Grand Ole' Opry.

There was also a walking stick cactus on the property line between us and the Reinke family.  We used to push each other into it.  Ask me if those things are sharp!

 This is all that seems to be left of the Catalpa trees. Just brush.  I never see a Catalpa that I am not transported back in time.

 I do not remember where this house was located, only that it has replaced one of the houses on Strong Street, because they are all gone now.

Next stop is the cemetery.  This is the tombstone for my sister Josephine's little son that was born dead.  I was there when that happened, but I think I told you about that.  Jack Lamb brought the tiny casket to the house in his car.  We had the service in the front room of her house.  I remember the tiny little face and the tiny little hand holding his blue blanket closed over his little body.  He looked like he was sleeping.  That was so sad. 

In the corner of the cemetery to the left of the entrance in the front was a bunch of brush and in it was these tiny tombstones.  They are hard to read.  I used to walk over there on hot days and go to that corner because it was under a big tree and it was cool there.  I would sing to these little kids and in my photo album I have a picture of the corner as it appeared than.  I took a picture when my brother came back from Germany and brought me a Kodak camera.  Sixty years later and they finally cleaned out that corner and laid these few pieces of tombstones together in an effort to preserve it as it was then.

This is the only grave that actually survived the years.

And so I leave.

 Wildmead Cemetery will always be in my mind and the little friends I had that were my company when I needed them most will remain behind.  I always felt so safe in that place under that tree.

I doubt that I will return to that cemetery again in this lifetime, but it will always be a part of my heritage and while I did not know the kids in the corner I was accepted by them and I am sure some where in another place and time, we will meet again.

Only God knows what goes through my mind, but I am trying to piece it together and find peace.