Day 39: Digging up courage…

 

“The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.”

–Marcus Tullius Cicero

 

 

 

I have been to Virginia City several times. But each time I go, I always experience something new in a place that is so old. Today was no different.  After having the courage to make the harrowing drive up Geiger Grade to this City, I was in need of a new adventure.  I decided to visit the town and the cemetery at the edge of the city.  I have been to both for brief visits. On this day, I was armed with my camera and my mind was eager to take in the experience and not rush in this timeless town.

Virginia City, as I mentioned in my previous post, is an old mining town that dates back to the mid-1800’s.  It was a mining dream for prospectors. The ground and rocks around Virginia City yielded $400 million in silver and gold finds—an incredible fortune in those days. The town boomed with the discoveries and became the most industrial city in the western U.S.   Schools, stores, entertainment, and business grew on this dusty, windy mountaintop. But the mining life was a hard life. It involved going 3000 ft below the earth’s surface in 100 degree temperatures to mine… many died in this mining community. Some of their spirits are said to still walk the wooden plank storefront walkways and hotels as they refuse to leave the historic town called Virginia City.

The town had its own thriving red-light district. As you can imagine, these young miners needed a release from their stressful and hard laboring days.  This is also known as the “Birthplace of Mark Twain”. Virginia City is where Samuel Clemens first used his pen name.  Mark was a reporter for the local Enterprise newspaper after failing as a prospector.  He would soon come to be known as one of America’s greatest authors, perhaps because he had the courage to leave behind one dream and follow his true passion for writing.

The town had its own opera house among other places of entertainment.  It thrived as the boom for gold and silver went on.  Just like all mining towns, it began to fade.  As soon as the mines were stripped, the ladies of the night stopped stripping for the men and the town dwindled in population.  At the top of the boom, the population was reported at over 15,000 and today less than 1000 keep this town alive. But “trace” gold, leftovers from the boom that were undiscoverable back in the old days, have once again brought miners back to the town.

 

 

Today, the horses have been replaced by motorcycles and cars, and the roads have been paved; But the history remains very much alive.  As I parked my car on the narrow street I looked down the road at the old storefronts and saloons, all lined up one next to the other.  It was as if I was looking at a glimpse of history untouched.

Wooden plank walkways lined the way with wooden barrels used for garbage cans.  As I walk along the creaking and uneven wooden planks the scent of old wood is obvious.   The doors to the saloons pushed open with music playing and people sitting at the bar stools.  As I peered into “The Bucket of Blood” saloon, there were many wearing cowboy hats and clinking glasses, laughing and just enjoying life with what seemed not a care in the world.  I did see some current off-duty miners socializing as well, which quickly reminded me that while some things change, others do not.  I continued on my way and tried to think back to how the people in the community coped with the heat… no air conditioning… dry, dusty, windy conditions up in Virginia City… They definitely would have been “roughing it”!  I walked around and stopped in a store or two and the old musty wood scent permeated each place I visited.  The fire station sits at the beginning of the street. This is important since nearly all the buildings were constructed of old wood and the dry conditions had already caused great fires in the history of the town.   Another fire would most certainly decimate what remained.

At this point, I decided to make my way to pay my respects at the cemetery that sits at the edge of town.  Actually, there are 13 cemeteries all together, but only one portion is open to the public.  I have been to this cemetery before, but never with the intention to fully absorb what I was seeing and to be able to take in the true meaning of the site.

As I walked up to the old cemetery, there was an unmistakable calm… no wind, no sound, nothing.  I walked in and slowly and respectfully took some pictures and thought about the gravesites I was seeing.  I thought about the young 30-something-year-old woman that had died and the children that were laid to rest as well.  What did they die from?  What a long and horrible procession from the church just a couple of miles away to the cemetery… How sad and distraught their families must have been.

I stood and just thought about life back then and the struggles that these people faced.  Less than ideal healthcare, difficult environmental conditions, dangerous working conditions, just to name a few…  It was at that minute that I heard from across the valley, the bells of St. Mary’s Catholic Church.  The sound echoed in my ears.  And following that gentle and musical interlude, was the sound of a train–the V-T Railway.  The train was the lifeline of the community; I can only imagine how many became accustomed to that daily sound.

I walked around and continued to take pictures and the quiet and calm had returned again.  I made it to the end of the cemetery where I had not been to before.  There at the highest point was a grave marker that struck my eye, a simple cross with a hat on it.  I thought about how important that hat may have been to the man that was laid to rest there.  Did he wear that hat every day?

Did everyone know him because of his personality and the hat?  I stopped and looked around and thought what a beautiful place to be laid to rest… atop a hill with a view… It was at that moment that I thought about courage and all the people laid to rest there. They fought to live and carved their life out of rock and dirt. But in the end, they were laid to rest on these grounds.  I thought about the military men, the miners, their families, those simply wanting a better life, a more prosperous life.  I stood there thinking about the Quest for courage I am on and the courageous stories I am convinced the souls of the cemetery could tell.

I looked up to the sky and simply asked that all the good spirits that surrounded me help guide me to find courage on this Quest…  to help infuse me with a little of their courage to continue the Quest in their honor and in respect of all those that have passed before me… It was at that exact moment that I could clearly hear the wind shift and power through the valley.   Within seconds I could feel the force of the wind move through me as I tried to brush the hair out of my face.  I felt a sense of understanding and approval from those I could not see, but knew were there.  I closed my eyes to intentionally absorb this sense of support and energy…  It was in that moment that a smile emerged as if there were a newfound clarity that I could not deny.

 

I began my walk back and just as I reached the end of the cemetery, there was an old gravesite where only a spider kept this long-rested soul company.  I took some pictures, said a quick prayer and turned to walk away, leaving the past behind me and looking forward to the future…   Wondering what tomorrow will bring…