On a beautiful Halloween day, we made a cultural excursion to the first park cemetery in this country, Mount Auburn in Cambridge est. 1831. The foliage colors were still glorious, some of my favorite nineteenth century thinkers and doers have taken more or less permanent residence there and the various engraved and sculpted monuments had enough interest to keep us walking for a couple of hours. And then we swung by Harvard Square to a much older burial ground behind the First Parish. The monuments there were very different, but like Mount Auburn and I suppose cemeteries everywhere, erected with the hope that the names and the lives of those memorialized and interred there would not be forgotten. I believe that what is remembered can never be gone completely.
What is remembered . . .lives.
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