I think that telling Martin stories was a bad idea. Most of the stories fall into two categories. Category one is the family and funeral stories which are pretty boring. Category two is the first time away from my protective Southern Baptist parents’ home stories that I’m just not going to tell. So, I’ll finish my story weekend with a little anecdote about the family cemetary in Martin. The family cemetary was once deep in the country but subdivisions are rapidly closing in the large, tree shaded hill that overlooks the countryside. The cemetary will be full someday and as is the nature of cemetaries, eventually the people who remember will be gone and the land will sit undisturbed except for some local who mows it to keep snakes off his property. I hope that in the future, someone doing research or etchings of tombstones takes the extra time to venture to the very back of the property. If they do, they will find several horses and dogs that must have been very loved to gain the honor of the family cemetary. They’re easy to find if you know they are there are look for the headstones four times the size of all the yellow-fever victims.

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