Sunbonnet Soliloquy

By Jewell Ellen Smith

Pictures on Tombstones (The ‘Hatchet Man’ of Pioneer, La.)’

“Jeminia Jones

Passed on Jan. 4, 1903

This is the last long resting place of Aunt Jeminia’s bones.

Her soul ascended into space amidst our tears and groans.

She was not pleasing to the eye, nor had she any brains;

And when she talked was thru her nose, which gave her friends much pain.

But still we feel that she was worth the money that was spent

Upon the coffin, hearse and stone (the mourning plumes were lent).”

This non-flattering inscription -- from a tombstone in Shropshire, England -- is the kind which epitaph buffs delight in finding.

Collecting epitaphs has become something of a fad. There are people who claim it to be a great hobby. They travel far and wide, searching through countless old country churchyards. In each, they walk among the tombs, carefully reading and copying what’s recorded on the crumbling grave markers.

If you know such a graveyard enthusiast, send him to the very northeast corner of Louisiana. There, not far from the Mississippi River -- roughly ten miles from a public park named Poverty Point and near a place called Pioneer -- are two abandoned graveyards. They are within walking distance of each other, on a road that zigzags through cotton and soybean fields and then passes by many old home places and pretty new houses.

One of these Mississippi Delta graveyards is more abandoned than the other. That is, it has been given over to briars and brambles, tangled vines, tall oak trees, and to such scorpions and snakes and other wild creatures as find it pleasant.

This deserted plot would greatly please the serious tombstone buff for the broken markers date back to the 1700’s, and the few names still legible are of French origin.

But the Ray Phillips family in Pioneer will tell you that it is the tombstone of “the hatchet man” in the other graveyard that attracts most attention. This, because there is a picture of the old fellow on his grave marker. The “hatchet man” was a lumberjack and employee of a large timber company, and it was his sole job to ride through the woods and chop notches on the trees that the company’s cutting crews were to fell. He is pictured on his mule, his hatchet in his hand, his jug dangling from the saddle horn. When the old man died, the timber company erected the tall granite stone and had his picture placed on it, as an honor. The inscription tells his name, the date of his birth and death, and the range numbers that described the section of the virgin forests in which he used his hatchet.

This long-gone lumberjack’s picture provokes many thoughts. Questions. What was in the jug? Was it water, or, was it snakebite medicine? What sort of fellow was this man who spent years of his life notching tall trees? What else did he do? Did he plant any trees? Was he happy? Did he like the picture?

Let’s do a little supposing. Let’s pretend that it has become a tradition and common custom, throughout our country, for every person to have his picture placed on his tombstone. Further, that each person is expected to have ready at the time of his leaving this world, a clear portrait for all coming generations to see!

If you can stretch your imagination that far, try to decide what picture you would have made. Would you dress up in your Sunday finest and pose standing in your doorway, a basket of flowers in your hand? Or, would you slip into a pair of jeans, stand by the kitchen sink, and be washing those everlasting dishes?

Would it be better to have yourself pictured as you are? Or, as you would like to be? Would you not try to capture your greatest accomplishment?

Ah, forget the whole idea! Pictures on tombstones are not the coming thing. Does it even matter how your epitaph reads? Do you suppose the hapless British woman named “Aunt Jemima Jones” gives one hoot about how people laugh about and copy down the inscription over her grave? Of course not! Neither epitaphs nor pictures on tombstones are important.

It is the living of life that counts. Take your hatchet and use it!

Published April 1981. Press your browser’s ‘Back’ button to return.