Last week in Cheers and Jeers some of us in the Kiddie Pool shared the voting privileges our states afforded us. After mentioning my New York State experience, Grandma Ada said,
I have an ancestor buried in the Methodist cemetery in East Jewett NY. Our family has this tradition that if we are anywhere close, we should go there and take a picture of ourself at his grave….I used to go to NYC often for work, but never had time to head north and take a pic.
I responded, “East Jewett is only 72 miles from me! Send me a selfie and I’ll place on the grave and take a picture for you!”
Grandma Ada did, and yesterday, I did.
It was a lovely drive east from Morris to East Jewett on Rt. 23. The day was cloudy with occasional sunshine and around 73 degrees F. I packed a lunch and plenty of water and tea and proceeded to my destination.
I tried connecting to a grave locator but none knew of East Jewett or Oliver T. Fuller, 1790-1852, Grandma Ada’s ancestor. So having confidence in my abundant good karma, and my GPS that (at least) heard of East Jewett, NY, I drove along in good spirits.
Sure enough, about five miles before I entered the town of East Jewett, the Methodist Church (above photo) appeared on my left. The cemetery was out back so I parked my car, grabbed my picture of Grandma Ada taped to a broken shovel handle and entered the cemetery.
Grandma Ada and I easily found the older section of the cemetery as many of the stones were broken or leaning against the stone wall.
Back in the north west corner after only about five minutes of scanning grave stones, there stood Oliver T. Fuller! Grandma Ada stood next to him and I snapped the picture for her. The stone reads, “Oliver T. Fuller died June 3, 1852. AE 62.”
A smaller inscription at the bottom reads, “Blessed are the dead, who die in the Lord.”
I noticed that the stone had been broken in half and repaired with two pipes set in the ground on either side and secured to the stone. It made me think that someone cared about Oliver T. Fuller. I looked for other family members near his grave but saw none with his name. He seemed to be surrounded by members of the Woodruff (or Woodward) family.
After paying my respects, I returned to my car and ate my lunch in the peaceful surroundings. On my way home, I stopped to buy myself some chocolate as a reward to my abundant karma.