White Rock
Back when I was just a kid Mama and Daddy often wanted to drive around on Sunday afternoons. One of their favorite places to drive to was White Rock Community. White Rock was a small community where they knew a lot of people.
Hickory Grove Cemetery was near there and my Mother's and Dad's family were both buried in that cemetery. I can understand now why they would want to visit the cemetery but back then I could not understand why anyone would want to go to White Rock or Hickory Grove. It was the dullest and most uninviting place you could imagine!
They had all day singalongs sometimes and my Mother and Dad loved to go to them. Everyone would take lunches and the event would start about 9:00 or 10:00 AM and then at noon everyone would put out their lunches on the long tables set up and share them. That is the only thing that attracted me--the food!
I remember once when we went to an all day singalong one lady with an extra loud voice was singing along and then the song ended and everyone stopped singing except this lady with the loud voice. The song was "Turn Your Radio On." She was not paying attention to the songbook and after everyone had stopped singing she started out on another verse and kept right on singing, "Turn your radio on...." at least for a couple of words until she realized that the song had ended. She was very embarrassed, as anyone would be.
My sister and niece and I braved the old memories and went to White Rock a couple of years ago and visited Hickory Grove Cemetery. It was as dull as ever. Only this time we could leave when we wanted to. As kids we had to stay until our parents were ready to leave. We did feel a moment of sadness as we stood by the graves of our grandparents and uncles. But thankfully, we left the sadness behind as we drove out of the cemetery gate.
I will probably never go to White Rock or Hickory Grove again. It is one place that does nothing for me (except hold the bodies of a few relatives).
posted by kyra lafain @ 7/15/2009 12:30:00 PM
2 Comments:
I know what you mean. Mama could spend hours at the grave yard and often drug me along. I HATED it! I was either forced to go there or to the blooming airport to look at all the old rusted planes...what odd hobbies my parents had! nh
I can spend hours at the cemetery. There's so much history there, and I wonder about the people whose names are on all the gravestones.
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