Campbell Family Cemetery, Palestine, Anderson Co. TX From Reminisces of Ida Mae McFarlane McCanlies (1907-1987) ************************************************************************ USGENWEB NOTICE: In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the Internet, material may be freely used by non-commercial entities, as long as this message remains on all copied material, AND permission is obtained from the contributor of the file. These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit or presentation by other organizations. Persons or organizations desiring to use this material for non-commercial purposes, MUST obtain the written consent of the contributor, OR the legal representative of the submitter, and contact the listed USGenWeb archivist with proof of this consent. Submitted by Linda Sykes 22 Feb 2000 ************************************************************************** Campbell Family Cemetery, Palestine, Anderson Co. TX A Country Graveyard The word "graveyard" doesn't bring the happiest of thoughts. A chill wind blows through our minds, and we hastily turn to something more pleasant. It is the same when we are speeding along some busy thoroughfare when a silent city of tombstones and evergreens suddenly looms up on the landscape. We cross our fingers, contemplate it soberly and are glad when we are past. It is a too-stern reminder that time is fleeting and death is our final reward. When I was a child, I didn't recognize the significance of tombstones or realize that I too was destined to meet the Grim Reaper some day. Once there was a graveyard that I liked to visit on my way home from school, and I can still recall it with pleasure. It was a family resting place, my mother's family, the Campbells. Evidently Grandpa Campbell selected this particular spot because this part of his land was totally unsuited for farming. It was a rocky little red hump of a hill, in the midst of a forest. It was uncleared land where pines, hickorys, and oaks abound, many covered with native grapevines. A little plot was cleaned off on the top of the hill and crepe myrtle, honeysuckle, and cypress were transplanted to give it a civilized look. A split rail fence enclosed it, but always the thicket threatened to invade. I would often stop there in the mornings on my way to school to gather a bouquet of roses and honeysuckle to take to my teacher. "Fresh from my great-grandpa's grave!", I'd say proudly. Then I'd have to assure her they were not from a funeral wreath, but from an old-fashinoned rose bush that had been planted long ago. He was the first one buried there and the roses bloomed over his grave every spring in pink profusion. The Beauty Bush & honeysuckle shed their fragrances, and cardinals and mockingbirds nested in the crepe myrtles, filling the air with their songs. It was always a shady, peaceful spot and I often thought that Grandfather, and the various aunts and uncles that joined him as time had gone by, must rest very tranquilly and happily there, amid the singing birds and twining vines. From large red sandstone rocks that abounded on the hill, or were unearthed in the process of grave digging, one of my uncles, George Washington "Watt" Campbell, had carved beautiful headstones with twining roses encircling names, dates and epitaphs. He had the skill and dedication of a real artist, and also often inserted some remarks about the character of the deceased, "Walt, not worth his Salt", "Here lies the Wise and often Smart Aleck". Members of the family would bring broken bits of crockery, china dishes and glassware, which would be arranged on the graves in various patterns resembling Grandma's quilts. We children would visit the graves and study the various bits of broken dishes, trying to guess from which kitchen they came. We would also wonder if we dared salvage a particularly attractive piece for our playhouse. I haven't seen this old graveyard for a long, long time. I wonder if it is still there. Sometime soon I must go find it. You see, that is where I'd like to go for my last, long sleep amid the roses and honeysuckle and singing birds. [Great-grandpa was Albert Gallatin Campbell. Grandpa was John Bartlett Campbell.