The Veterans Grave Site Flagging Project
I get emails from the Woodlawn Conservancy because Brian and his brother Billy are there. Some events, like concerts and star-watching through a telescope, require an admission, but some things are free. Since I now work some weekends, but money is still tight, the opportunity to volunteer at Woodlawn to place small flags at the graves of veterans in time for Memorial Day looked like a lovely way to pass the time, a proper bit of quiet civic duty. It is easy to get to on mass transit, there was an hour break with deli sandwiches and bottled water provided by the Conservancy, I could walk the Silent City on a lovely spring day with like-minded souls, show respect for departed veterans (some going back to the Civil War), and visit with Brian for an hour before the place closed.
I'd say about three dozen volunteers showed up, including a Girl Scout troop and a troop of cadets from a local youth group called the Washington Grays, after a New York Civil War regiment of the same name. There are over 4,000 veterans at rest at Woodlawn, spanning from the time the cemetery opened (during the height of Civil War) to now. Every year during the month of May, volunteers show up on weekends to place small flags at their headstones (in some cases in front of private mausoleums). Woodlawn is divided into many plots with flowery or descriptive names like Heather or Hillcrest, but for mapping purposes also into a grid of 300-square-foot blocks. Each person got a printout map of two grids at a time, with a list of names in each grid to search for, place a small flag before the center of the stone (or in flag holders if there), and take back last year's flag for proper disposal if there was one. Each grid had roughly a dozen names. We were also given pens and a space on the map to write notes on the condition of the sites. Sandy had done a number on the place, as had the recent storms; we were to note if any headstones or monuments were knocked over. They keep a constant inventory of what needs fixing. In cases where families have long left the area, some things will take years before they are repaired, though. The Conservancy's budget can only cover so much, for all that Woodlawn became a national landmark only three years ago.
This is called Woodlawn for a reason. There are lots of lovely trees and a lake nearby; Woodlawn is next to Van Cortlandt Park. It's a stop on the migration route of many birds (the Audubon Society has outings there). Sometimes there is a delicate little dance between the wildlife that would like to set up residence in the Silent City and the humans who keep the grounds. I was climbing the small hill at the Highlands plot when I heard (and then stumbled upon) two tom turkeys vocally dueling. Dueling gobblers. Actually, wild turkeys are rather impressive up close. These two were so intent on intimidating each other (there had to be a hen or two nearby for them to be arguing that much) that they all but ignored me. After a few minutes one of them puffed up his chest and spread his back tail feathers in full display. The other one appeared about to puff up and make a fight of it, but then just deflated and walked away. I never did see the hen. The first one saw me and just picked his way unhurriedly over the hill and into the next plot. At the base of one tree in the Hickory plot there is a hole. In that hole lives at least one ground hog.
Most of the markers just listed names and dates, but some also displayed ranks, or phrases such as "felled at Argonne," or had unit names. I worked five grid spaces and planted roughly 60 flags from 9 am to 4 pm with a nice break for lunch, and brought back perhaps six or seven tattered and faded flags. Death in battle knows no class distinctions, so I was placing flags at marble mausoleums and small stone slabs flush to the ground, and all the variations of granite and marble between. In one case I had to report a marker missing. I found the family, his relatives were all around him, but Mr. H.C.'s stone was gone, so I placed the flag in the empty space where one should have been. I also found a colonel that was not on the list and duly took down his name, his rank, and his dates for the record. He was a colonel in charge of ordinance during WWII. At one of the older sites I saw a stone Celtic cross smashed to the ground, thankfully not covering the stone of Mr. B., but close. I stood for a few minutes before each one I visited, guessing which theater he might have been involved in from looking at his dates. Not everyone dies in battle, but you can sometimes tell who did by what is said or left at the marker. At two of my visits I did not have to leave anything. A fresh American flag, much larger, a USMC flag, shining metallic badges, bright ribbons, were all fresh evidence that someone takes the memorials seriously.
We were all thanked for our time and effort. Similar groups will be showing up tomorrow, too, and the week after. Between the individual volunteers, the scout troops, and the historical and genealogical societies, no one should be left out by Memorial Day. For some of the older stones, the only visits paid will probably be by the volunteers who provided their flags, but sometimes a token respect is all we have left.
I then visited Brian. It was a quiet, stress-free day.
I'd say about three dozen volunteers showed up, including a Girl Scout troop and a troop of cadets from a local youth group called the Washington Grays, after a New York Civil War regiment of the same name. There are over 4,000 veterans at rest at Woodlawn, spanning from the time the cemetery opened (during the height of Civil War) to now. Every year during the month of May, volunteers show up on weekends to place small flags at their headstones (in some cases in front of private mausoleums). Woodlawn is divided into many plots with flowery or descriptive names like Heather or Hillcrest, but for mapping purposes also into a grid of 300-square-foot blocks. Each person got a printout map of two grids at a time, with a list of names in each grid to search for, place a small flag before the center of the stone (or in flag holders if there), and take back last year's flag for proper disposal if there was one. Each grid had roughly a dozen names. We were also given pens and a space on the map to write notes on the condition of the sites. Sandy had done a number on the place, as had the recent storms; we were to note if any headstones or monuments were knocked over. They keep a constant inventory of what needs fixing. In cases where families have long left the area, some things will take years before they are repaired, though. The Conservancy's budget can only cover so much, for all that Woodlawn became a national landmark only three years ago.
This is called Woodlawn for a reason. There are lots of lovely trees and a lake nearby; Woodlawn is next to Van Cortlandt Park. It's a stop on the migration route of many birds (the Audubon Society has outings there). Sometimes there is a delicate little dance between the wildlife that would like to set up residence in the Silent City and the humans who keep the grounds. I was climbing the small hill at the Highlands plot when I heard (and then stumbled upon) two tom turkeys vocally dueling. Dueling gobblers. Actually, wild turkeys are rather impressive up close. These two were so intent on intimidating each other (there had to be a hen or two nearby for them to be arguing that much) that they all but ignored me. After a few minutes one of them puffed up his chest and spread his back tail feathers in full display. The other one appeared about to puff up and make a fight of it, but then just deflated and walked away. I never did see the hen. The first one saw me and just picked his way unhurriedly over the hill and into the next plot. At the base of one tree in the Hickory plot there is a hole. In that hole lives at least one ground hog.
Most of the markers just listed names and dates, but some also displayed ranks, or phrases such as "felled at Argonne," or had unit names. I worked five grid spaces and planted roughly 60 flags from 9 am to 4 pm with a nice break for lunch, and brought back perhaps six or seven tattered and faded flags. Death in battle knows no class distinctions, so I was placing flags at marble mausoleums and small stone slabs flush to the ground, and all the variations of granite and marble between. In one case I had to report a marker missing. I found the family, his relatives were all around him, but Mr. H.C.'s stone was gone, so I placed the flag in the empty space where one should have been. I also found a colonel that was not on the list and duly took down his name, his rank, and his dates for the record. He was a colonel in charge of ordinance during WWII. At one of the older sites I saw a stone Celtic cross smashed to the ground, thankfully not covering the stone of Mr. B., but close. I stood for a few minutes before each one I visited, guessing which theater he might have been involved in from looking at his dates. Not everyone dies in battle, but you can sometimes tell who did by what is said or left at the marker. At two of my visits I did not have to leave anything. A fresh American flag, much larger, a USMC flag, shining metallic badges, bright ribbons, were all fresh evidence that someone takes the memorials seriously.
We were all thanked for our time and effort. Similar groups will be showing up tomorrow, too, and the week after. Between the individual volunteers, the scout troops, and the historical and genealogical societies, no one should be left out by Memorial Day. For some of the older stones, the only visits paid will probably be by the volunteers who provided their flags, but sometimes a token respect is all we have left.
I then visited Brian. It was a quiet, stress-free day.