O.K., So Maybe I Was a Weird Kid

This is the cemetery that was in the back of my neighborhood growing up.  There were no houses back there yet, just some roads and this old cemetery.  At the time there wasn't a gate or fence around it so there were always old beer & soda cans and cigarette butts.  When I was about 11 or so I started riding my bike to this cemetery with bags so that I could do a little clean up.  I started with picking up all the trash regularly and as time went on I advanced to pulling weeds and piecing together broken headstones.  Sometimes my friends and I would go together, but often I went by myself.  It's strange that I wasn't scared.  As I grew older I became more infatuated with the people that were buried there.  I wrote the names and dates down and had my Mom take me to the library where I could do some research.  I'm really not sure how I knew how to do this research, but I'm sure some very helpful librarians showed me the way.  I found that the Covington Family is buried there, their nannies, housekeepers, and their doctor as well.  This family is a pretty big deal in town and have a park, street and various other things named after them.  I also found through my research that they lived in the house down the street that is still there.  It's a beautiful, romantic old house with apple trees lining the drive.  It has this huge front yard and the house sits atop a little hill.  You can just picture the horse drawn carriages going up the drive.  Once I discovered the history behind this cemetery I felt a huge sense of responsibility to the people buried there.  It might have something to do with this.  

Eventually I went to college and had to leave my cemetery behind.  Today I went back to visit, and here is what I found:  

So sad. Apparently there are no weird kids around anymore who like to take care of the dead. There is a poor, old cemetery on our property surrounded by a wrought iron fence with broken headstones all around. I am oh, so tempted.