102 Years of a Living History
/As I stepped into the small Oakland Cemetery on the easternmost edge of Flat Rock, I could see her recent grave still adorned with memorial flowers. It was a cool, gray Saturday morning and the only sounds were the birds chirping in trees that border the modest cemetery on three sides. The grass was wet. The red clay, unearthed to prepare for her internment, still visible around the gravesite.
I’d come to this hallowed ground to pay my respects to a woman that I never met. To honor and reflect on a woman whose life was more intricately bound to the history of Flat Rock than perhaps almost any other living soul in the Village.
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