Tag Archives: legacy

Do You Know Who I Am?

Before some spraying and scrubbing.

You don’t have to answer, but I hope you’ll wonder just a little bit. This is a gravesite stone in the “old” Abbot Village Cemetery across from the town hall. You can still make out the word “Baby,” but you can likely surmise this child lived some years ago. The stone is worn, covered with lichen, and discolored, so I guess we don’t know who this is—or was.

My goal is to encourage curiosity, not sadness. Particularly as we age, we do tend to think about “legacy.” Most commonly (and the dictionary supports this), we think of our legacy as the amount of money or property we leave behind. It’s one way we will be remembered. Gravestones are another.

This child, or perhaps more accurately the family, “left behind” this small stone. I was reminded of the child’s short life during the few hours I spent recently volunteering to help the Abbot Historical Society clean gravestones. I found “Baby” in the family plot I was offered as my project.

After some spraying and scrubbing, the special solution we used will continue to work, and hopefully, the stains will lighten.

As I worked, I learned a bit more about “Baby.” He was the infant son of George and Sara Bradman. While his lifespan isn’t documented with dates, based on his parents’ stone, he probably lived his short life on Earth in the mid-to-late 1800s.

I mentioned all this to a good friend in an email. Jack replied, “Everyone does their best to make life work… Keeping gravestones clean is a nice reminder of how the system works. Not a bad spiritual exercise.”

Without getting too theological, I hope Baby Bradman and his parents are pleased with my work. I think our little town of Abbot is a better place, not just because this cemetery will look better when the project is finished, but because we are showing that we care about our community and its legacy. The spiritual exercise and reminder of how the system works was a bonus.

But wait, there’s more! Spending a few hours with like-minded coworkers was enjoyable. Everything we needed was provided, including materials, tools, support, and encouragement. We all paused briefly when a passing car repeatedly blew its horn, and the driver leaned out the window, waving and yelling, “Thank you!”

This was one of those occasions when the work itself was the reward. If you live in Abbot, keep an eye and ear open for the next opportunity. You can also contact Brian at the Abbot Historical Society. I won’t be surprised if you join this effort for a few hours and decide to do more.