Cities of stone

I like graveyards.

They are so quiet and contemplation inducing, to use a really inelegant turn of phrase.

A very long time ago, when I worked for the Associated Press in Pittsburgh, I wrote a feature story on Allegheny Cemetery, which has its main entrance on Butler Street in Lawrenceville. It is a lovely place to wander. Stephen Foster is buried there, among many other luminaries and not-so-much luminaries, like Harry K. Thaw, murderer of Stanford White, architect and hmmm, ladies man.

Anyway. A few years ago in Paris, I visited with friends the Cimetiere Montparnasse, final resting place of Susan Sontag, Serge Gainsbourg and I can't even remember how many others.

In at least these two places I have visited, I am struck by the age of so many monuments and gravestones. They are so worn by time and elements; I wonder, does anyone remember these people, their lives reduced to "born" and "died" and, if you were a widow, "Relict of."

In Downtown Pittsburgh, between two very old churches on 6th Avenue, Trinity Episcopal Cathedral and First Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh, there is a graveyard dating to the early 18th century. So many slabs are broken and unreadable, but it is a lovely place, above the sidewalk, for a short wander during a busy day. Many of the graves are of children.

The picture is of the cemetery