Fort Collins, Colorado

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Shall we end the year with . . .?
An A-name + A poem + A piece of physical geography
     "We're all driven by the winds of change,
     Seems like nothing ever stays the same,
     It's faith that guides me around the bend,
     Life's forever, forever beginning again,
     Flow on river of time."
For two days, today and tomorrow, we allow ourselves to be immersed in the mysteries of time. We remember what we have done over the past year, and we contemplate how our lives will be different in the one to come. Ultimately, though, our own river of time disappears into the world's great ocean – but time, like the river we're riding, continues to flow. So, let's all enjoy the ride while we can and remember that the river flows on. And, by the way, did you see how, with one small change, he made the "River of Time" lyrics his own?
Grandview Cemetery. [2019]

Liberal, Kansas

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:
     Rivers begin in the mountains and end in the sea.
     Time begins in the mountains, and so do we.
     We flow downhill toward the shore,
     But those first few years are so much more
     Like scaling cliffs, enduring trips,
     Doing flips and suffering rips.
     Gradually though, does the river flow
     Onto the plain, where's there's much less pain.
     A straitening course for five decades full
     Of sunny days and downpours few,
     Of whirlpools here and rapids there,
     But love it all we do declare.
     And, then, the flow begins to slow;
     Those mountains seem so long ago.
     Our river, though, sustains the flow,
     But now meandering back and forth
     Until we see the delta's swarth,
     And then we know what lies ahead,
     Not alpha but a great big zed!
Written by Geographically Yours on the eve of New Year's Eve. It was a year that began in Burlington, Vermont, with a month of Zed-names and will end tomorrow in Fort Collins, Colorado, after a month of Alpha-names. Liberal Cemetery. [2018]

Bridgeport, Nebraska

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  "You can tell my arms to go back to the farm . . . But don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart." It looks like he was a farmer, or more likely a rancher. See the cattle brand? So, he did have a farm to go back to: with his achy breaky heart. He probably added the e to his name just to move him forward a wee bit in alphabetical order. He would have been in his 50s when Billy Ray Cyrus commanded the stage with "Achy Breaky Heart," but (regardless of the orthographical irregularity) he probably got ribbed just a wee bit by his friends. But, at least he had his ribs to protect his heart. Oregon Trail Memorial Park. [2019]

Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  He was so infatuated with his A-names (plural), he had to find a spouse who could share his infatuation with A-names (plural). Notice neither one of them lists their middle names. Why not? They don't begin with A. "Mother" and "Father" says the inscription: Want to bet that their children just had to get all As in school? St. Mary Cemetery. [2014]

Phoenix, Arizona

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  A famous Jew would celebrate his birthday today if he were still alive. Wait! He is still alive. His followers, not including the A-listers here, constitute the largest religion in the world with over two billion followers. He was called Jesus of Nazareth. Christians celebrate him as the great alpha and omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. He came as "the great I am," but he humbled himself to serve "the least of these." Beth Israel Memorial Cemetery. [2019]

San Diego, California

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  A committed Muslim, he was. A committed Christian, she was. And, secular enough to have a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson engraved on their, memorial: "Life is a journey, not a destination." In that trifecta is a wish for peace and a model of intercultural understanding. El Camino Memorial Park. [2013]

Malaga, New Jersey

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  The first Albertsons arrived in North America in the 1600s, so that makes them among the "first" as well. Since then, however, the name and its bearers have spread across the United States and Canada. In all likelihood, however, few of them realize that they are descendants of royalty that takes them even farther back in time: Albert comes down to us as a derivative of King Ethelbert of Kent, who ruled in the 800s.  Malaga Cemetery. [2017]

Hurricane, Utah

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  His parents were perfectly aware of their alphabetical place in the world. His family name and both given names begin with A. And, she must have seen the opportunity to "marry up," something that is difficult to do for a Black. Hurricane Cemetery. [2019]

Tarkio, Missouri

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  He ripped holes in his pants; she fixed them. Given his lifestyle, he must have had a lot of holes that needed mending. Then, he realized that all he had to do was tell the woman of his dreams who he was: "I Am Thor." Anyway, have a happy Thors-day. Home Cemetery. [2019]

Glen Ellyn, Illinois

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First: The seal tells us that he was in the Air Force; the dates on the seal tell us he probably fought in the Korean War. Rank: Major? Only a surmise based on his family name which ends with meier, Germanic, from a root that gives us both major and mayor. Now, put that idea together with the first syllable of his family name. Forest Hill Cemetery. [2019]

Cheyenne, Wyoming

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Sometimes an epitaph captures perfectly not just the essence of the person but the essence of the era: "Don't call me unless it's important." He would have entered the job market in the 1950s and probably been the epitome of "the organization man," a surmise underwritten by his duds. His A-name, of course, would have been an asset as he moved up in the organization. Olivet Cemetery. [2013]

Darien, Connecticut

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  As the holder of an A-name he spent his life as one of the alphabetical elites. Just imagine him as a publishing scholar: If his co-authors are more than two, the names might just be listed in alphabetical order, in which case his name will appear in scholarly indexes, and those with names at the end of the alphabet will be subsumed under the hated et al., meaning "and others." Isn't it time to bury et al. and its discriminatory tendencies? Spring Grove Cemetery. [2018]

Covina, California

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  The initial letter of your last name establishes where you stand in society's pecking order. It differentiates between those at the beginning of the alphabet (the elite) and those at the end of the alphabet (the commoners). According to a study in the Economics of Education Review, the alphabetical elites are more likely to be admitted to choice schools and colleges, while the alphabetical commoners are more likely to be passed over. Will admission to heaven be any different? Forest Lawn Memorial Park. [2015]

Beatty, Nevada

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Did you know that the initial letter of your last name influences how fast you make purchasing decisions? Those with family names beginning with A take their time; those with names from the end of the alphabet make speedier decisions about what to buy. That's according to the Journal of Consumer Research. He grew up as an A; she may have had a maiden name late in the alphabet, in which case they might not have been compatible shoppers. Desert Hills Cemetery. [2016]

Guymon, Oklahoma

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  You can't get any further to the front of the line than having the name of the world's first man. Nevertheless, John Adams was our third president, not our first. Our first president had a name that put him close to the end of the line, but he overcame the obstacles and emerged as number one. Elmhurst Cemetery. [2017]

Batesburg, South Carolina

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Say "Andrew's Son" real fast three times, and you will end up saying Anderson. Now, say "Andrew" fast three times, and you will end up saying Ander. Unlike names that are highly localized, the Anderson name is ubiquitous. Haven't we all known an Anderson? In the British Isles, "Andrew's son" was very common because of the popularity of St. Andrew. He brought Christianity to England, and his cross is on the UK flag, Of course, the origin may be Nordic as well, perhaps as Andersen. Amick Grove Pentecotal Church Cemetery. [2018]

Bekeley, West Virginia

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  As a nonagenarian with a name like his, he must have been the first in many lines. His Anglo-Saxon family name is one that is saturated with West Virginia history, and no matter where you find members of the Atha clan today, they almost certainly can trace their roots to ancestors in the central Appalachian Mountains. Blue Ridge Memorial Gardens. [2014]

Moyock, North Carolina

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Yesterday's A-name was Atsi. Today's is derived through Norman French from Atso, meaning "noble." In fact, the word 'ace' still has a noble connotation. It is used to compliment a person who excels at something. Yet, this last testament says nothing about what this couple excelled at. So, let's surmise what we can from their [standard-issue] headstone. Look at their given names. What did they want to go by in the next life? By the same names they went by in this life: Charlie and Margie, not Charles and Margaret. That says something about how they treated each other, and how others treated them. Memorial Cemetery. [2018]

Chattanooga, Tennessee

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  All that remains of the Brainard Missionary Station is the cemetery. One of the students is "Buried Here." His Cherokee name was Atsi, but he was soon re-Christened. Even his new name began with an A, though. Not only was he a student, he was an interpreter and "exorter." He died in his 27th year, thus missing the even greater tragedy that was to befall his beloved Cherokee nation. Your assignment: Write a screen play attesting to the life of Atsi, a life spent in that miasmatic zone between two worlds and between two times. Brainerd Mission Cemetery. [2013]

St. Charles, Minnesota

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Why a month of A-names, you ask? Because we had a month of Z-names at the beginning of the year. As the ZZZs led the parade into annum 2019, the AAAs are going to take us out. Such reversals are, of course, a violation of natural order, but we will all get through it. Any questions? Just ask. [2019]

Portsmouth, New Hampshire

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Here is someone who did not get the memo: A last, Z first. Instead, we have a name that spans the alphabet from A to Z. What's the national origin? Clue 1: blend-defying consonants in close proximity. Clue 2: a cross bedecked with a rosary. Clue 3: a lighthouse that looks like a pole. Now, can you think of a name that spans the alphabet from Z to A?  Calvary Cemetery. [2019]

Northwood, Iowa

The First Shall be Last, and The Last First:  Is being first in alphabetical order a recipe for success in life? You can't get much closer to the beginning than a "double A." In their school days, they must have been right under the teacher's gaze, and recipients of much pedagogical praise. But, did it all guide their adult pathways? South Shell Rock Cemetery. [2019]

Matheny, West Virginia, USA

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  "Gone But Not Forgotten" is one of the most common and most famous epitaphs. And, sure enough, the octogenarian farmer seems still to be around. See him on the tractor? And, so do the family cows. See them in the field? Thus ends a month of farmstead panoramas. Palm Memorial Gardens. [2019]

Julesburg, Colorado

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  Here is a headstone that stands as a pictorial memo to all future generations: a view of the farmstead that shaped a generation or two of the family. Well into the future one of their descendants may come by and say: So that's what the land looked like before the new highway brought in all those housing subdivisions! Julesburg Cemetery. [2019]

Knapp, Wisconsin

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  Perhaps their farmstead was not picture perfect. Perhaps she wanted a single-story ranch house instead of a two-story farm house. Voila! It looks like she got it. Now, it is a picture-perfect farmstead. Forest Hill Cemetery. [2012]

Greenville, Ohio

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  The linework in the etching is just as perfect as this family's lifework on the farm. If they invite you into their home, you will find a pot of coffee brewing on the stove. What else could they be brewing? Greenville Cemetery.  [2018]

Herman, Nebraska

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  Focus on that one lone tree: Heading west you are, leaving the forested "back forty" behind and heading into the great American grasslands. Trees will increasingly be limited to the banks of streams (intermittent or perennial) and to the yards of farm houses where they can be nurtured into shade-giving maturity. Herman Cemetery. [2007]

Adairsville, Georgia

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  He (the one who "always looked for the best in others") is in the yard with his dogs. Cows are at pasture. But, where is the barn? Where will the cows be milked? Eastview Cemetery. [2013]

Chrisman, Illinois

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  That's a picture-perfect farmstead with picture perfect barns and a picture perfect driveway. Where is it located? In the heart of the corn belt. In fact, space for the farm seems to be carved out of the corn fields. Woodland Cemetery. [2014]

Odebolt, Iowa

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  His was a prosperous farmstead. You can tell by the number of barns and all the cribs and silos. That means he must have grown something of great value: Cracker Jacks! Well, not exactly, but here was grown most of the popcorn used to make it. Odebolt was the popcorn capital of America. The fields were in Iowa; the factories were in Chicago, and the railroad linked the two. Odebolt Cemetery. [2019]

Thomasville, Pennsylvania

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  Welcome to Paradise. That is the name of the churchyard where they are buried. That is also probably what they considered their farm. And, that is where at least one of them (and maybe two by this time) is right now. One thing is for sure: The farm is absent of people, so something must have happened. Paradise Evangelical Lutheran Church Cemetery. [2014]

Fennimore, Wisconsin

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  This family is going nowhere. They are straying on their farm forever. How do we know that? There they are with their tractors: mom, dad, and the three kids. What is that on the other side of the road? Must be "God's Green Acre." Prairie Cemetery. [2019]

Atlantic, Iowa

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  The farmers here (see them?) have achieved immortality (no you don't!). But, their sheep remain behind. How do we know they have risen into the heavens? Because their last name means "immortality," from the Greek ambrotos.  What are they eating in their new digs? Not lamb or mutton, but ambrosia. Saints Peter and Paul Catholic Cemetery. [2008]

Hummelstown, Pennsylvania

Picture-Perfect Farmsteads:  What constitutes a farmstead? Barn, house, and outbuildings. If you grew up on one, your farm was your castle. It was probably more like heaven than anywhere else on earth. This month, expect a tapestry of farmsteads, the places many Americans called home. Hanoverdale Church Cemetery. [2019]

Fennimore, Wisconsin

Defined by Our Duds:  The word duds seems not to fit this etching. So, let's say she was defined by her raiment. The past tense, was, does not seem to fit this etching either. So, let's say she will be defined by her raiment. Do wings count as raiment? Prairie Cemetery. [2019]

Williamsburg Ohio

Defined by Our Duds:  His existence may have been defined more by the duds of previous generations than by his own. Sometimes it is more important for headstones to reveal what the ancestors wore. Black granite etchings are one way of keeping the traditions of American Indians "alive" (or at least commemorated). "Just as an eagle soars on and on, you will remain in our hearts." Williamsburg Cemetery. [2016]

Lovington, New Mexico

Defined by Our Duds:  What do you wear when you are a cowboy? Something like this: hats and boots included. And, now, his great grandkids can see how the life he lived was defined by his duds (and his horse!). Lovington Cemetery. [2018]

Darien, Connecticut

Defined by Our Duds:  No, this is not the final resting place of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. But, this couple does personify elegance as much as they did. In both cases, elegance was defined not only by the dance but also by the duds. These two were partners in dance, partners in life, and, now, partners forever. But, were they married? That's unclear. Other mysteries: (1) Why is her name first? (2) Why are there three memorial doves? (3) What does it say in that open book? Spring Grove Cemetery. [2018]

Mancos, Colorado

Defined by Our Duds: Was his appeal the music that he played or the duds that he wore? Maybe you can't separate the two, and it looks like he was defined by both. Now, like a pharaoh, he has an obelisk of his own, and it matches his black suit. Cedar Grove Cemetery. [2013]