VOCA

As a result of our LATimes coverage, we received a very nice, personal letter from Charles Marchant, who also just happens to be secretary of the Vermont Old Cemetery Association:

[VOCA] is a non-profit organization founded in 1958 to "encourage the restoration and preservation of neglected and abandoned cemeteries in the State of Vermont" Membership is open to all. Dues are $5.00 per year, $20.00 for five years, $100 for lifetime membership, payable to VOCA and mailed to the treasurer, and are tax deductible. Meetings are held twice yearly on the first Saturday in May and October. The VOCA newsletter is published by the editor four times a year to coincide with the seasons.

I plan on joining (and will send in my dues as soon as I get around to sending in our 251 Club dues!).  While I was poking around the web to learn more, I stumbled upon this article featuring Charlie:

Disclaimer: You never know what's going to happen until you put the first shovel in the ground.

This is what Charles Marchant, 60, tells people before he dives into restoring cemeteries and repairing gravestones across Vermont.

From trimming around gravestones with scissors at age eight for his great uncle, to falling asleep at town meeting only to be nominated as his town's cemetery commissioner as an adult, Marchant has committed over half of his life to cemeteries.

"Little did they know I'd take it seriously," said Marchant of becoming the cemetery commissioner.

On Sunday, the Shaftsbury Historical Society invited Marchant to share his extensive knowledge of cemeteries. Shaftsbury's cemeteries need some attention from the town, the society decided, and a first step in the process was inviting Marchant to give a talk and slide show.

Marchant, a retired high school history teacher of 36 years, now spends his time as a private contractor, giving cemetery presentations and performing restorations. He is the secretary for the Vermont Old Cemeteries Association, and a member of The Association for Gravestone Studies out of Greenfield, Mass. Marchant, who lives in Townshend, also maintains a couple private cemeteries near home.

Very cool.

ntodd

Comments

[Sarah]

Some of those old cemetaries have wonderful old gravestones and monuments. People wanted to be remembered and to keep track of family.

And I know *all* about woolgathering during a meeting, only to discover that you've been nominated for something or other. Nowadays I pay attention!

[MarkS]

There's a really cool old cemetary in Starksboro, on Mason Hill South an old carriage road.

While looking for interesting places to take pictures for the Free Press, I drove up Mason Hill South, back in '86, or '87.

It was kind of spooky up there, early evening on a warm October day. The sun was just barely down, but the chill set into the air pretty quick. As I drove by a little wooden cabin, a German Shepard appeared out of nowhere. His bark was threatening, my fear of dogs heightened. He ran after me for a short distance but then trailed out of sight from the rearview mirror.

I looked up and I was driving on a barely discernable track. There were some old head stones on either side of me. White Marble glowing against the browns and grays in the fading light. In this chilly little gully, it was very quiet and the trees seemed to close in on either side of me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Not wanting to linger, I moved through the graveyard, but had to stop. There were several very large tree trunks blocking the muddy track. I quickly made a three point turn and headed back the way I came, half expecting to see spectres materialize before me. I wondered what went on in that little ramshackle cabin as I passed. Again, the ominous dog gave chase. I thought I heard howling as I put more distance between us, heading down the hill to Big Hollow Road. It was beginning to get dark.

Four years later I would shack up with my girlfriend, Peggy, in a house designed and built by the owner of that dog and ramshackle cabin. The dog was a female, her name escapes me, but she was a good dog. Turner Brooks was a genius architect and a kind man. We were just about a half mile from the old cemetary and rode Peggy's horses on that road through the graveyard once or twice.

I wonder who lives up there now.