Where Lee Was Married...

Monday, July 4, 2005 3:19 PM

As I write, I’m sitting in Arlington National Cemetery. Somewhere.

It’s a hot day, one growing increasingly curious. I was drawn off the main paths by the distant sound of bells. After tramping over several hills, I’ve found their source; a severe gray tower, of metal manufacture, holding dozens of bells. From the tower comes the jangling Americana, everything from patriotic marches to syncopated ragtime and woeful blues. It’s not actually pleasing, and invests the silent graves with an eerie false joy.

The air is thick, a buttery kind of warm that makes shade decidedly more precious. A strong breeze regularly clears the air and gently dries off some of the beads of sweat. The grass in between headstones is parched in places, crunching underfoot even as I mop a sopping brow.

~

Tuesday, July 5, 2005 11:01 AM

Arlington is big. Really big. I visited the cemetery on the Fourth of July. Outside of Memorial Day, I can hardly imagine a day more likely to draw visitors. Indeed, the entrance was swarming with tourists. But in less than five minutes, I’d managed to walk, ambling aimlessly, into thousands of gravestones without another soul in sight. I spent a good ten minutes reading names and moving deeper into the long rows of marble without a glimpse of another person. Over all the distant clamor of the bells only added to the surreal scene. One minute, I had been enveloped in respectfully shuffling masses, eyeing the flame at JFK’s monument critically. The next, I was lost in a sea of white and green, pausing to rest in the shade of an oak wondering why my only companions were bluejays and chipmunks.

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In some parts of the park, the headstones were the same size and height, all fading ivory uniforms for the forest green graves. In others, the standard marker mingled with opulent monuments: slender obelisks, stout sarcophagi, glossy chunks of stone loudly declaring the achievements of the man, woman or child below or sternly listing the deceased’s full title. I don’t mean to paint them in a negative light or criticize. The contrast, though, was striking, for example, in the final resting places of high-ranking officers. Some characters whose fame has not withstood history well, had towering constructions, touting their deeds. Beside might lie Adm. “Bull” Halsey of WWII fame, his grave quietly, but significantly marked. Then, just to the right, might lie the common stone marker, indistinguishable but for the name from thousands of others. Yet beneath that modest tablet might lie a Rear Admiral or Brigadier General, a man of no small accomplishment. I did not prefer one to the other, but I find the thought comforting of a private receiving the same memorial as a general.

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My disposable camera has yet to be disposed of, but if you care to see pictures of Arlington, you can do so here, to your heart’s content. I thought this one captures a little bit of the day I was there.