The power of a picture

I have had many times when a photo has forced me to re-evaluate things, This was the most recent.

Yesterday my brother called and asked if I had a photo of my Grandma Buchanan's tombstone.

I told him no, that I didn't think she had one.

So he sent me a photo of it and 2 copies of her death certificate,

(One was much better than the copy I had.)

I was surprised by the tombstone.

The version of Grandma's name on the tombstone does not match the death certificate, but it is definitely hers.

I was surprised by the amount of detail on the stone,

I thought the image was beautiful. I interpret as the gates of heaven opening to let her enter.

This was an expensive tombstone, I had thought that my grandfather was poor.

The tombstone makes me revise that opinion.

I knew that at various times he owned his own blacksmithing business.

I remember now that he owned an automobile, which very few people did in the 1920s.

I remember stories of them driving to Millett, Alberta from Tacoma, Washington:

1..They camped overnight at a place where there were large boulders, and being told the next day "Nobody camps there! That place is full of rattlesnake dens,"

2. Aunt Inez had mumps which they failed to disclose at the border crossing. One of the border guards mentioned the "chubby little girl".

3. Uncle Jack was accused of being afraid of driving off the mountainside, so when it was his turn to drive he would drive on the uphill side of the road. (left or right)

Elizabeth Jane Watson was the grandma that I never met. She died when Dad was a teenager.

I am glad to see her beautiful tombstone. Over the past year we have place tombstones on the graves of Mom, Aunt Maggie, and my Grandpa Buchanan.