You Knew This Was Coming, Didn’t You?
Spring, 1965, I finally had my driver’s license at age 16 and
enjoyed my role as gofer around my Dad’s monument builder’s
shop. Since age 12, I lived a boring existence moving from home
to school then, after school, to a back room with not much else but a
drawing board, then back home again. Carried back and forth by
Mom’s taxi or on foot. Being a gofer with a new set of wheels
came as a step-up in life!
Dad came to me, on this fateful day, and handed me a roll of rubbing
paper. This is a wax-coated blue film that a designer will lay across
the face of a monument and rub away the wax to leave behind an exact
image of the craving from the stone. It is used when duplicating a
design or, as on that day, to copy the layout of an existing monument
so a stonecutter can come along later to engrave additional lettering
to. A draftsperson (me at that time) would take the transfer and
create a blueprint for the cutter.
I drove my 60’ Bonneville to a small church cemetery on Broad Hollow Road in Huntington. Today it is better known as the Route 110 corridor and busy as all get-up. But the small ‘Jesus Saves’ church and graveyard are still there. So I’m going to change names as not to have too many people staking out a ghost hunt at the tiny location. I came upon the GREY monument not too easily as it was an overgrown site, a very old stone. As I started rubbing a small voice asked. “What are you doing, sonny?” I looked back to find an old women peering down at me. I stood and explained myself with all the pride and confidence of a teenager. She was so kind and interested, also amused. She explained that this was her husband’s grave and that she did not like others fussing with it. I did not comment on her poor job of tending to it. Instead, I proudly continued my job while she chatted about her husband, their children, a local general store I never heard of and how she missed the ‘by-gone days,’ as she called them. I finished and we exchanged a few more niceties. She wished me well with school and work then I left for my car.
To get to my car I needed to cross a driveway leading into the church’s garage. I was stopped because the pastor and about 7 others appeared from the garage. They were leaving a choir practice and our paths crossed. While moving past me, the pastor asked what I was doing. I told him and mentioned the nice old lady. “Oh, Mrs. Grey,” he chuckled. This caused both a stir and laughter among them. I, of course, stood wondering why, when one of the people said, “We all know Mrs. Grey, she’s been dead for almost 30 years now. And still holds vigil to her husband’s grave.”