It was one of those mornings I wanted to go for a motorcycle ride, but just was not passionate about it. For that reason, I decided maybe it should be a longer ride. A longer ride to the Ohio River.
What is it about rivers that draws us. Is it the water’s edge? The sound of waves breaking on the shore? The smell of a river, and that can be good or bad? The sound of laugher of people enjoying the environs?
I don’t know. It just seems to make a difference, a calming effect. I could spend hours just gazing at the water, and all that it encompasses, flowing onward and eventually to the sea.
I have traveled down New Burlington Road many times while out for a leisurely ride on the motorcycle, and have passed this cemetery without much notice. But, the other day, I noticed and turned in to the New Burlington Cemetery, wondering what I might find on the hillside. Curiosity was my guide.
It appears that the cemetery began as the Jenkins family plot circa 1806. The Northwest Ordinance of 1787 opened up the Northwest Territories and pioneers began settling the land now known as Ohio. Many old cemeteries began as family plots.
I pulled to the middle of the cemetery, noticing more recent burial plots and modern headstones. But there in the middle was an unexpected memorial. It was a tribute to the men and women of the armed forces who are buried there. The names on the list was extensive. Both sides of the memorial gave honor to those who served. Army. Navy. Air Force. Marines. I noticed that the U.S. Coast Guard was omitted, perhaps an innocent omission.
A cemetery that began in 1806 must certainly have an older section, and I found it at the very back in the corner of this peaceful piece of land.
I walked amongst the headstones looking at the records of birth and death. I also noticed the recognition of military service with the placement of small American Flags. Such is the final resting place of so many, and buried with them their family history.
I wandered back to my motorcycle, and rolled out of the cemetery pausing to take another picture of my curious adventure into history.
We have been self quarantined since March 13. That’s 8+ weeks. We are managing nicely and getting along just fine. But, I am ready to ride. Not just a short one, but a long, overnight travel on the motorcycle.
I have managed short rides just to get out of the house. An hour or so. Around the block. The big block. And those rides have me dreaming about the bigger ones.
Several overnight trips were on my calendar. That is, until this coronavirus came along and tossed my calendar into the garbage. Perhaps one or two can still be salvaged. It all depends upon travel conditions. What will be open? What closed? Facilities and accommodations.
Every time I take one of the bikes out for one of those get-out-of-the-house, short rides, I think just a few more miles before I turn towards home. And then, I return home refreshed.
The flowers are well on their way pushing up through the mulch. The trees have displayed their flowers and now leaves of green are protruding from the stems. Bird watchers report the northern migration and so, the Hummingbird feeder has been installed. The magic of the hummers and their territorial dance is just a short time away, for it is the beginning of Spring.