Individualized history

To Kaitlyn Hoehn, 37, cemeteries have at least as much to do with life as they do with death.

“These were people. They lived full lives…or they had their lives cut short.

“These stones, even crumbling and almost gone, were what they chose to record those lives. They’re important.”

Hoehn says her interest in cemeteries stems from her lifelong fascination with history. She admits to having been “a bit of a nerd” in high school, when she read many books on the topic. She went on to major in archaeology, the field which looks at artifacts from past civilizations–everything from tools to pottery to structures–to learn more about their cultures and values.

That same desire to find clues about the past carries over into her visits to cemeteries, something she does fairly often simply out of personal interest. Hoehn lives in rural Waseca with her husband Teddy and 10-year-old daughter, Lily. The three frequently make an outing of visiting cemeteries together. “Sometimes we’ll be driving somewhere and Teddy will say, ‘There’s a cemetery there. Do you want to stop?’ smiles Hoehn. “But he doesn’t really need to ask. The answer is, ‘Of course I do.’”

According to a 2011 survey, Waseca County has 45 plots of land in various sizes which have been designated as cemeteries; only 13 have contact information–meaning that far more than half are in private ownership or have been abandoned. Seven have been officially turned over to the county, “which basically means it gets mowed,” observes Hoehn. Statewide, Hoehn finds listings for about 6,000 cemeteries, and again notes that more than half are no longer officially cared for.

But whether well maintained or all but forgotten, Hoehn enjoys visiting them, and recommends doing so to others.

“There are lots of stories out there just waiting to be cared about,” she says. “I encourage people to walk, look at the stones, think about the stories behind them. Ask themselves, ‘What happened here?’”

She offers the example of a headstone in North Waseca Lutheran Cemetery, where a single monument lists seven children in the same family who all died of typhoid fever within ten days of one another.

She mentions another gravestone for a two-year-old which she investigated in response to an online request; it was eventually revealed the child was injured in a prairie fire and died within 12 hours.

There are also touching triumphs: marriages which lasted for decades, families which grew to occupy large spaces over generations.

Hoehn mentions that gravestones in this area are typically made of one of two types of stone. Granite comes in numerous colors and tends to be quite resistant to erosion over time. Because it is more demanding to carve and not quarried locally, it has also been more expensive to buy; a DNR website shows the closest Minnesota quarries to be near St. Cloud. Limestone, on the other hand, is locally abundant in Mankato. Softer than granite, Hoehn mentions that it can be carved in highly decorative ways with many details that “look beautiful when the stone is first installed.” That, and the lower price, have made limestone a popular choice since settler times. “But 100 or 150 years later,” she observes, “it’s not doing so well.”

Other factors also affect how well the words and images on the stones are preserved. 

“Even in a well-maintained cemetery, the stones are going to sink over time,” she mentions. “Some have undoubtedly disappeared into the ground. Others have fallen over and continue to sink.

“I wince whenever I see a tree in a cemetery,” she mentions. “Tree roots reach far out and down, and they can displace many things.” She says that, in addition to being the reason a stone falls over and breaks, they can also be disturbing the grave. 

Even in the limited setting of the past 200 years in Waseca County, Hoehn says, burial practices have varied widely. The general intent, she goes on, has always been to put the recently deceased in a wooden casket and then to bury the casket six feet underground–below the frost line.

On a strictly practical level, though, everything from subterranean obstacles (think “rocks and roots”) to the availability of labor (think “harvest” or “planting time”) can have affected the results–especially for the hundred or more years that graves were all dug by hand.

Cultural factors have also evolved. In the mid- to late 1800s, people were dressed in “nicer” clothes and buried in a simple wooden casket without any jewelry or other mementos. Hoehn mentions even the choice of clothing was likely affected by the many limits which came with settlement times: “You didn’t bury the sturdiest pair of coveralls or the nicest dress,” Hoehn comments. She also speculates “For any burials before 1900, the caskets are completely gone by now.”

As the area’s economy began to prosper and resources became more available, the tendency was to bury a concrete or stone vault which completely enclosed the wooden casket. The caskets, too, became generally more ornate; they were more likely to be made of a higher-quality or more decoratively carved wood, and were lined with a luxury fabric. It was more likely the person inside would be dressed in more elegant clothing and wearing jewelry. Stones tended to become more ornate, with more wording and richer symbolism.

The idea of grave robbers caught public interest in the late 1800s and early 1900s, Hoehn mentions. Though the possibility “got more attention than it deserved,” at least a few people would bury bodies in a different location than under the stone memorial, or bury a “false” casket on top of the real one.

All that information can enrich people’s understanding as they visit a cemetery, Hoehn points out. But the real point is to honor and reflect.

“When does a stone become a rock?” she asks. “Only when people forget.”

Rather than thinking of cemeteries as being “creepy,” Hoehn encourages folks to see them as museums. “Even the ones that might be somewhat overgrown, they’re still a record of the past,” she says. “The people buried here took their turn on planet earth. They had an impact, they made a difference. It’s only right to honor that.

“It’s an opportunity to ponder the afterlife and the meaning of your own experiences.

“There are a bazillion different things to consider.”

And, she points out, it’s not the answers that matter, but the act of considering the questions.

“It’s that someone was here,” she says. “Someone was thinking about these people, their stories and experiences. Someone cared.”

Thanks to her training in archaeology, Hoehn also often goes a bit further than contemplation.

“I always have a notebook and pen with me,” she mentions. “There’s always something I want to write down so I can find out more later.”

She also carries a “cemetery bag” which includes some light-impact supplies for removing moss. She uses an electric scrubber–a gift from her mother in recognition of her “weird” hobby–distilled water, and a silicone kitchen scraper. She also keeps a flashlight and a tape measure in her kit. The flashlight creates contrast which sometimes makes it easier to read worn text. The tape measure helps provide perspective for any photographs she takes.

The first rule, she says, is “do no harm.” This includes being sure she does not interfere where she may not be wanted, which is why she most often does her preservation work in abandoned cemeteries.

“If I can be part of the reason some little piece of history was not erased, that’s reason enough for me to keep doing it,” she reflects. “I genuinely enjoy getting down on my knees with my equipment and gently cleaning things up, bringing them closer to what they once were.

“The stone is a remnant, perhaps the last remnant, of this person and this person’s accomplishments. I’m glad to do what I can to honor their memory.”