On my 21st birthday, I went to answer a knock on the door. Two very dear high school friends stood on the porch with smirks on their faces. One of them held up a bandana. “Happy Birthday! We’ve come to kidnap you. May we blindfold you?”
I had just recently returned to my hometown after graduating from college. I was missing many of the dear friends I had made in South Carolina but trying to reconnect with my community back in Virginia. The car eventually slowed and began bumping along a rough road. I guessed we must be somewhere downtown on one of the old cobblestone streets. When we finally arrived at our destination and they removed the blindfold with shouts of “Surprise!”, I was greeted by a lovely sight.
Under a large weeping willow tree, not far from a pond thick with lily pads, was a picnic blanket spread on the lush grass. On the blanket were chicken salad sandwiches, cheese and crackers, jam tarts, lemonade, and more. Vintage linens peaked out around the dishes and teacups. There was even a small harp for me to play. Several good friends stood around, beaming at my open-mouthed awe. It was a perfect way to celebrate on this warm May afternoon.
Now, if we look beyond the picnic to the surrounding setting, you might be surprised to note that the lovely lily pond nearby was actually a scattering pool for ashes. Not too far from the picnic blanket, there were crumbling tombstones. Headstones, obelisks, plaques, and monuments spread out in every direction, as far as you could see (which to be fair is not too far because of the rolling hills that dominate central Virginia).
This might seem like an unusual setting for a surprise birthday party, but my friends had picked this spot because it was one of my favorite places in the city. My senior pictures were taken here before I left for college. (No, I was not a morbid or edgy teenager.) It was sort of the normal thing to do. I am confident that 80% of the graduates in my class had at least some of their senior pictures taken here.
The Old City Cemetery was founded in 1806 and has a large section of graves for civil war soldiers. It holds the unusual claim to be the oldest municipal cemetery in Virginia which is still in use. There are still funerals held there. The grounds not only have an impressive display of old monuments, but also low, rambling brick walls, gardens with native Virginia plants, a cobblestone drive, a swing suspended from a towering oak, and unique statuary. The cemetery boasts the largest collection of heirloom roses in the Commonwealth and many people (locals and tourists) come to the cemetery in the spring as part of the garden tour with hopes of buying cuttings to grow their own roses. In the fall, all the tourists come back again for candlelight ghost tours, which follow a historical storytelling model.
There are a few small historic buildings (including the Pest House and Hearse House) which have been restored and have been turned into mini museums. Another historic building houses the gift shop which offers a selection of local and historical books like Food to Die For as well as goat plushies for the kids. Goats live on the grounds to keep the grass trimmed.
The most striking of the restored buildings is a chapel. Because of the presence of the little chapel, ideally situated to watch the sunset over the Blue Ridge Mountains, the cemetery is useful for ceremonies beyond funerals. It is actually a very popular place to take engagement photos and even to have weddings for a small crowd (this is a prominent tab on their website). The Columbarium is available for the bridal party to get ready for the ceremony. I assume they try to avoid scheduling weddings for the same day as a funeral, though I don’t know if they offer a guarantee.
I imagine outside of a traditional country church, this might be one of the few places where they still marry ‘em and bury ‘em in the same location. I’m not entirely sure what this says about the locals of my hometown. Perhaps we’re a little odd. Maybe we have a deep appreciation for history and our roots. Maybe it means we can recognize and cultivate beauty even in unconventional places.
Either way, I think the tradition of picnics, pleasant walks, and pictures in the cemetery will continue. The son of a family friend proposed to his girlfriend in this cemetery (because it had also been the location of their first date). Their wedding was the first non-family wedding I ever attended. Later, I was hired to play the harp for a wedding in the cemetery chapel. Maybe some day, if I find the right man, I’ll even say “I do” among the gravestones.
Photo by Ayanna Johnson on Unsplash
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