Forrest Lawn cemetery
What does Forest Lawn cemetery in Buffalo, NY, have to with my writing inspiration?
Although I started writing historical fiction in 2004, the process really started in my childhood. My Dad loved old cemeteries, history, antiques, and flea markets, and I inherited the bug.
A WW II veteran, occasionally he would turn his collar up, put his sunglasses on, and make one of us kids get out of the car to scrounge an interesting piece of furniture waiting on the curb for the garbage man.
Of course, we hated it at the time, but the funny thing is my sisters Jeanie, Mary Jane, and Nikki keep up the family tradition to this day.
Forest Lawn cemetery is one of the first, professionally designed cemeteries in America.
Its first internment took place in 1850, and many famous people are buried there, including Rick James, and Red Jacket, a Native American Seneca orator and chief of the Wolf Clan.
Beautifully landscaped, with sloping green hills, abundant flower gardens, and marble fountains, you can walk the grounds for an entire day and still not see everything.
Forest Lawn cemetery
But the mausoleums held the greatest fascination for me.
My top favorite sat partially built into a hill. It had an iron grille built across the doorway, with the stone “door” deliberately left half open. For someone to enter?
Or perhaps to leave? How eerie, especially in the fall, when dead leaves had blown inside the crypt and the wind whistled faintly through the iron grille.
On a a windy autumn evening at dusk, it sent chills down my spine.
Forest Lawn was one of the first steps in the journey to becoming a writer. And what is the first step, you ask? Developing an imagination!
There is much “scope for imagination” at Forest Lawn, as Anne of Green Gables was wont to say.
I spent hours wandering among the gravestones and mausoleums, reading inscriptions and wondering about the people behind them. Some had Bible verses. Others had sad, sweet sentiments such as “My beloved wife, gone too soon.”
The fears and terror of youth often fade away and are replaced with the terror of every day life as we age. The impression these ancient reliquaries leave on our pysche is evident when we engage in personal endeavours. As our memories grow fuzzy so do these very monuments with age. And moss & lichen. With erosion gently embracing the form and smoothing out the rough patches. Just like the ones who care about us.
Wonderful beginning,Renee. A touch of mystery and imagination that takes me back to my childhood. Leaves me eagerly waiting for the next post.
Renee, I look forward to your blogging. The site looks great!
Roaming cemeteries as a child seems a bit odd! Exactly how old were you when this started? It's funny how you can learn something new about someone twenty odd years after they left this world, and startling too when you think you knew them quite well!
I find characters in books much more interesting when they are real people, or at least heavily based on real people. I imagine the makings of an intersting novel could result from the ensuing investigation of one of those mysterious epitaphs. Was it a clue to hidden treasure perhaps, or a warning to those still living of a sinister plot?? I further imagine the investigation could take you to many far off locations and expose you to an assortment of diabolical or virtuous characters!
I'll be back!
Anonymous. those are some interesting thoughts!
Martyman, my characters are based on both real and fictional people. The funny thing is, those fictional characters become absolutely real to me.
I am so glad I got to see your blog. It is so interesting! I love art in any form. The angel on the cloud over the grave was beautiful. The iron door over the mauseleum was very appealing. I can see how it would be scary at dusk or after dark. I love seeing what people have on their tombstones. My mom saw the King Tut exhibit and I never understood her interest in it, as a kid. She and her mom and I went to London when I was in high school. We went to the Westmisister Abbey and my favorite, the Windsor Castle. I still have one of the rubbings from a tomb at W. Abby. I look forward to seeing what you write about Hosea. Things I never would have thought about. Things to ponder and to change my world. Thanks.
When the boys were young we used to go for walks in old cemeteries. They were quiet and had a lot of beautiful scenery and it was much like going to a botanical garden. We loved to read the old tombstones in New England and think about the lives of the people there.
Jamie