Stories in the Wind

On Mother’s Day, we went to Hoquiam, where my wife’s parents are buried to place flowers on her mom’s grave.

While she was finishing up doing that, I wandered around the nearby markers. I find cemeteries fascinating. The stories that must be here which can be only hinted at lie in the words on the markers.

There were, of course, several that caught my eye, but as a history guy, these two really intrigued me:

Sometimes I wish that these places were like Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town,” and there was some way to sit and listen to the stories echoing in the wind.