Traveling Close to Home; or, Chasing Ghosts in Natchez

"The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page." ----St. Augustine

Funny thing happened---I saw this quote online several months back and thought I'd have to use it at some time in my blog. Then a couple of dear GTMO friends left for Asia---we've spent countless hours eating and drinking and laughing these past 2 years---and one of them gave us this beautiful collage/painting that she made. I am so happy to have it as a reminder of these crazy 2 years with new friends and to remind me of why I chose this crazy life. 

We can't travel more than a few miles within the confines of our gated community here, but I also have to stop and think, wow, I'm living in the Caribbean. My kids have experiences you can't get anywhere in the United States. And one day, our time will come and we will have the opportunity to see more of the world.

This summer I spent some quality time in Mississippi seeing places there I have never seen.  I had one friend tell me that he thinks he is too old to travel and see the world, but there is so much of the United States to see, you can spend a lifetime there and never get bored.

Which brings me to Natchez.

I am a horrible Mississippian because I have never done the Spring Pilgrimage of beautiful antebellum homes in Natchez or seen some of its famous landmarks. I finally took time to go, and as an added bonus, I spent the day with my youngest son and my lovely friend Janis, whom I haven't seen in over 10 years. Janis was my across the street neighbor during the college Semester That Changed Everything in Cuernavaca, Mexico, and she's the sort of friend who easily fills in our 10+ year conversation gap with funny and interesting stories. Within a few minutes of meeting at the Welcome Center, we were off and running, chasing ghosts in Natchez.

We first stopped for lunch at Mammy's Cupboard, a restaurant that you, well, just have to see to believe.

Mammy used to be African American, which is so politically incorrect today (and so stereotypical Southern when it was built in the 1940s), but now she is sort of racially ambiguous. Maybe she's Native American. Maybe she's just a white girl with a nice tan. Either way, she's a landmark and the pie is awesome. And now my youngest can tell everyone that he ate under a lady's skirt while in Natchez.

Then we went on to Longwood Estate.

Longwood was built by a wealthy cotton planter in the 1860s and is the largest octagonal home in the US.

During the course of the home being built, the Civil War broke out, the planter lost millions of dollars worth of crops, and ultimately, only the basement of the home was completed.

We walked around the finished basement and then stared in awe at the unfinished top five floors. All that potential, built with Northern carpenters and with money earned in an agricultural society driven by slavery. The house epitomizes the good and bad of the Old South (beauty, cruelty) and I really enjoyed the tour, despite the bittersweetness of someone's broken dreams as public spectacle. It was well worth the trip and an architectural marvel, unfinished and all. 

But the highlight of my day was the cemeteries.

I seriously love old cemeteries.

I love beautiful old tombstones---it's a lost art, the ornately carved headstone. I love epitaphs. I love the stories they tell (or even more interesting---the stories you must infer).

I love the National Cemetery in Natchez with its uniformity, and graves from every conflict since the Civil War. We stumbled upon the fresh grave of a WWII veteran buried that very morning. My ancestors lived on the grounds of the cemetery in a house that is still standing today. My great great grandfather Charles was born in Germany, immigrated to the US at 12, served in the U.S. Army, and eventually became the superintendent of this cemetery and zigzagged across the country (including Texas), working at other National Cemeteries, as well. He is buried at the National Cemetery in San Antonio.

National Cemetery in Natchez, Mississippi

His daughter, my great grandmother Mabel, married a man named Philip who at one time, worked at the City Cemetery, and they raised children---including a daughter who would become my grandmother----in a house between the 2 cemeteries. It is still standing today. I love thinking that my grandmother once bounded up those steps to her home, or sat on that porch with her siblings.

The Weiss house in Natchez, and my grandmother's childhood home.

I love the City cemetery with its tombs that tell stories. There is the Turning Angel (any fans of author/Natchez native Greg Iles will recognize this one), a somber angel built in remembrance of several young women who died in an explosion. Legend is the statue's face turns and follows you if you shine lights on it at night.

There is also the grave of Florence Ford, a 10 year old who was so deathly afraid of storms, her parents had steps built leading to an underground shelter with glass between the shelter and coffin. Her mother would sit in the shelter during storms to keep her dead daughter company until the weather blew over. 

I know summer wasn't spent touring Europe or Asia or even Mexico, but it was relaxing and I love the connection between past and present generations. The fact that my son was along for the ride made it that much better. As I walked amongst the tombstones of two cemeteries that span over 150 years, I couldn't help but think how incredible it was that three generations of my family had lived so close to each place, and during all these years, each of the six generations has spent time walking around these same tombstones. My son was fascinated by all those things I love about cemeteries, too, and I hope one day he will bring a seventh generation of our family to enjoy this beautiful and sacred place.