Philadelphia Cemeteries that Mark Our Nation's 250th Birthday - Part 2

Two hundred and fifty years ago, the Declaration of Independence was signed. Two hundred and eighty-six years ago (in 1740), Congregation Mikveh Israel was established – and with it, the first Jewish cemetery in Philadelphia. The small burial ground is one of about twenty colonial-era cemeteries in Philadelphia that exist as they did when America’s founders walked this land.

As you peer through the black iron gate onto the small, quarter-acre property, you get a more visceral sense of history than if you were walking past, say, the Liberty Bell. This is the actual ground that America’s founders walked on, actual headstones that thousands of Philadelphians have touched over the centuries. Unlike some other “historic” landmarks in this city (like the fake Betsy Ross grave in front of the fake Betsy Ross House), these cemeteries have intense historic significance as tangible artifacts of our proud past.

There are in fact three Mikveh Israel cemeteries, the oldest being on Spruce Street, between Seventh and Eighth streets, directly across from the oldest hospital in America, Pennsylvania Hospital (which has a newly opened museum, by the way!). How this cemetery came to be established is an interesting story. Nathan Levy (who is buried here) was a Philadelphia merchant who petitioned the William Penn Family (Royal Proprietors of Pennsylvania) for a piece of ground to bury one of Levy’s children (in 1738). In 1740, Levy established the space as a cemetery for Jews. This was not unusual at the time. There were no public cemeteries then – they were either private family burial grounds, potters' fields, or the graveyards of churches of various denominations (Protestant and Quaker, mostly, and a few Catholic).

In 1956 the Mikveh Israel Cemetery was declared a National Shrine by the U.S. Congress and is part of Independence National Historical Park. The cemetery is within easy walking distance of the park where the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall are located. The cemetery will be part of the Interfaith Philadelphia Religious Freedom Walk that has been organized for this summer, so do stop by to see it as you walk through the area (ref.).

Mikveh Israel Synagogue, 44 N. Fourth Street, Philadelphia

The people buried in Mikveh Israel were members of Mikveh Israel Congregation, the “Congregation of the American Revolution.” The congregation was formed in 1740 by Jewish Spanish and Portuguese immigrants when Nathan Levy began to hold services in his home. He was a merchant whose ship the Myrtilla, was thought to have brought the Liberty Bell to America from England in 1752 (but they probably didn’t call it “The Liberty Bell” at the time, so as not to tip off the Brits!).

One wishes that photographs existed to show what these monuments and gravestones looked like when new – or at least the ones that were carved and set after photography was invented (around 1830). Sadly, it didn’t occur to many photographers back then to photograph gravestones. Of course it was only black and white photography back then, right? So any such early photos would never have captured the beauty of these azaleas in the springtime. But wait, were there azaleas in America back then? Turns out there were! They were first brought to America from China around 1840, so it is possible that azaleas were planted here when the cemetery was established that same year!

The landscaping is well tended at Mikveh Israel Cemetery and I must pause here just to say that we all benefit from the efforts of people who work to maintain and preserve our historic cemeteries in Philadelphia. Of the 200 graveyards and cemeteries that were moved, destroyed, and buried throughout Philadelphia’s history, some still exist. Whenever one disappears, that chapter in the city’s history disappears. So it is truly a marvel and a testament to the tenacity of visionary people that twenty cemeteries actually exist that were here prior to 1776, with Mikveh Israel (the “Hope of Israel”) being one of them.

 “Send for Haym Salomon” – George Washington

A permanent resident of Mikveh Israel Cemetery is American patriot Haym Salomon, a financier who helped George Washington meet payroll for the soldiers under Washington’s command, so they would not desert. Because of this one action, Washington won the battle of Yorktown - the final battle of the Revolutionary War. This singular instance is but one example of the 250 years of Jewish contributions to our American story.

Salomon worked with Washington and Robert Morris, Superintendent of Finance of the United States, from 1781 to 1784 to finance the war effort. In 1781, Washington determined that he needed at least $20,000 for continued financing of the campaign. Washington wanted to lead his army from the Hudson Highlands (in New York) to Yorktown, Virginia to engage the trapped British army (led by Cornwallis). When Morris told him there were no funds and no credit available, Washington said, "Send for Haym Salomon." Salomon raised $20,000 through the sale of bills of exchange. With that contribution, Washington conducted the Yorktown campaign, which proved to be the final battle of the Revolution. Hence, Haym Salomon, patriot.

With regard to historically famous residents of the Mikveh Israel Burial Ground, the Gratz family may be a name more familiar to Philadelphians. Gratz College, the Gratz Building (Fifth and Spruce), Gratz Street, and so on.  – Hyman Gratz is buried here, the founder of Philadelphia’s Gratz College (which places its focus on Biblical and Talmudical study). 

Hyman’s sister Rebecca is of course, the cemetery’s most esteemed resident. Perhaps you’ve not heard of her? Let’s change that, then.

Rebecca Gratz 

Rebecca Gratz portrait at the Rosenbach

I took a special interest in Rebecca Gratz’ grave, as I was quite the fan of Sir Walter Scott’s novel, Ivanhoe (1819). The heroine in this novel, Rebecca, is patterned after Rebecca Gratz (1781 – 1869). “The leading American Jewish woman of the nineteenth century, Rebecca Gratz founded several organizations that poignantly defined American Jewish public life for years to come and helped move women to the center of that life” (Ref.). 

Rebecca Gratz exhibit at the Rosenbach Museum and Library

A friend of the Gratz family, author Washington Irving, extolled Rebecca’s virtues to fellow author Walter Scott, who created the character “Rebecca” for his novel around 1817. By that time, Rebecca (who was the first Jewish female college student in the United States, having attended Franklin and Marshall College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania) was seen as “gentle, benevolent, and accomplished … she soon became the centre of a brilliant circle of men and women of all denominations.” As a philanthropist, Rebecca Gratz established the Philadelphia Orphans Asylum (1815) and co-founded the Female Association for Relief of Women and Children in Reduced Circumstances (1800). The latter provided assistance to women whose families had suffered economically during the American Revolution - one of the first of its kind in America.

Daughter Olivia, back in 2018

My daughter Olivia owes her Sunday mornings spent in Hebrew School to Rebecca Gratz, as Gratz was the person who instituted the practice of religious education for Jewish children. In 1838 she founded the Hebrew Sunday School Society of Philadelphia (at Mikveh Israel), “based on the pedagogy of Isaac Leeser” (the pioneering champion of written Jewish Orthodoxy, who is buried in Mikveh Israel’s West Philadelphia cemetery, at 55^th and Market Streets). Leeser and Gratz supported each others’ work in Jewish education, starting the Jewish Sunday school movement within the Mikveh Israel Congregation (ref.). This became the first such organization in America and served as the model for others like it, such as the school my daughter has attended for years at Congregation Rodeph Shalom in Philadelphia.

Rebecca Gratz' stone, before cleaning

In 1906, Mary M. Cohen wrote in the City History Society of Philadelphia:

 “I stood the other day by her forgotten grave in the little grass-grown Jewish cemetery on Spruce Steet and read the simple inscription on the tomb – ‘Rebecca Gratz, born March 4, 1781, Died August 29, 1869.’ … ‘Forgotten’ grave? Oh no! Far from it! Never would the grave of one of the noblest and most distinguished of Hebrew women of the land be forgotten by her kindred or her grateful fellow believers!”

You can still read the inscription, barely. The marble has eroded to the point where it can no longer really be cleaned. In 1959, on the 90th anniversary of Gratz’ death, a bronze memorial plaque was attached to the brick wall at the head of her burial plot. 

My friend Robert Reinhardt's hand, assisting in the cleaning

Rebecca’s large marble crypt cover is weathered but the more recently placed marker of polished granite lent itself to gentle cleaning with a soft brush, soap, and water. Since plans are for Mikveh Israel Cemetery to be open to the public around the July Fourth holiday this year, I thought it would be a good idea to clean this newer gravemarker. It was barely readable in April of 2026 when I visited. A few weeks later, I returned to clean the stone.

Rebecca Gratz at Rosenbach

The artist Thomas Sully painted this remarkable portrait of Gratz, which was recently on loan to the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C., and is now back with its owner, the Rosenbach Library and Museum in Philadelphia. It hangs in the Gratz family parlor at the Rosenbach, along with other portraits and pieces of the family’s furniture. And if period furniture interests you, Congregation Mikveh Israel is preparing a “Gratz Room” that will be open to visitors this summer at the Synagogue (44 N 4th Street). This is on Independence Mall, so if you are strolling by Ben Franklin’s post office on Market Street, do stop by the synagogue to see the portraits and other artifacts from the Gratz estate. History is so much more interesting when it is tangible, you know? Like when you can see yourself reflected in said history, as I’m reflected in this actual mirror in which Rebecca saw herself.

Our Shared American History

Gratz' mirror at the Rosenbach

Having a tangible link to our shared past is a strong catalyst to understanding our history, ourselves, and the role we play in creating that history. For 250 years, we’ve struggled with that line in the Declaration of Independence, the one about all men being created equal. Our forefathers espoused the ideals of freedom, liberty, and equality while owning slaves and engaging in religious persecution. Today, we tear down the historic reminders of slavery from the site of George Washington’s former home in Philadelphia, within Independence National Historic Park.

Gratz room at the Rosenbach

The nation’s 250th birthday comes at a rather inconvenient time, when respect for human life does not seem to be a popular notion in America. As a result, I am reminded of a quote related to the current restoration of Har Hasetim Burial Ground, the formerly abandoned Jewish cemetery in the woods of Gladwyne, PA.  Rabbi Beth Kalisch (of Beth David Reform Congregation, the new owners of the cemetery) said, “Restoring the cemetery is a way of affirming that each person buried there matters, even if we don’t know their name… we live in a world that so desperately needs the reminder of how valuable every single human life is.” - Beth David Rabbi Beth Kalisch, Philadelphia Inquirer, Dec. 28, 2022

So as you stroll past Mikveh Israel Cemetery this summer, pause. Look inside. Consider how this 250th birthday may be an opportunity to put into action what our forefathers wrote on paper. They were somewhat hypocritical, so perhaps we should consider the Declaration of Independence as a goal, one that we’ve not fully attained, or lived up to yet. Alexander Hamilton called us (in 1787), “The American Experiment.” Why? Because the founders really did not know if a democracy on this scale would work. It does seem that it has worked reasonably well for nearly 250 years --- the goal being, as Hamilton stated, to be able to govern ourselves without a king.  

Further general information:

https://www.mikvehisrael.org/

https://philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/essays/roman-catholic-church-and-catholics/

https://legalclarity.org/what-was-the-american-experiment-and-is-it-over/

https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=81984

https://jewishaction.com/cover-story/isaac-leeser-1806-1868-champion-of-orthodoxy/

https://www.gratz.edu/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haym_Salomon

https://reformjudaism.org/learning/torah-study/torah-commentary/liberty-and-freedom-religion-america

For a more detailed account of Rebecca Gratz’ life, please see:

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/gratz-rebecca

https://books.google.com/books?id=9sHVsA2dfHkC&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Rebecca-Gratz

Also, my friend Joe Lex created a wonderful podcast entitled, “Mary S. Costanza: Finding a Glimmer of Light in the Darkness,” in which he covers the Gratz family history.

https://www.aojd-online.net/tng/getperson.php?personID=I1839&tree=tree1

Frigid Cemetery Photography

Sitting here typing away on a Saturday morning, waiting for tomorrow’s expected blizzard. I’m between catastrophes, so I have some time to gather my thoughts. These past three weeks of frigid temperatures have taken their toll on my friends and neighbors, who suffered burst pipes, floods, and fires. Over the years, I’ve had my turn in the barrel so I feel fortunate that my biggest challenge right now is where to park my car tonight so that it will be easy to dig out tomorrow. Might need to hit a cemetery in the snow.

The fluffy stuff has slowly begun to melt. I am looking forward to wearing regular shoes. Its been so damned cold with the snow and ice that took weeks to go away, I’d had to wear boots everywhere. Including last weekend’s trip to a couple of cemeteries.

1855 Gatehouse, Mount Moriah Cemetery, Philadelphia

The previous Saturday morning was spent at the volunteers meeting in Philadelphia’s Mount Moriah Cemetery – two hours of meeting time with my toes frozen in the old office building. This ended with a rousing demonstration by a falconer with her owl and hawk - indoors! I often tell people that I do not have normal friends. Normal bores the daylights out of me (to paraphrase the Stones). Prior to that, I killed a bit of time in Lansdowne, PA’s Fernwood Cemetery, a couple miles up the road. I did some frigid photography there.

Stark, raving cold.

In Fernwood, it was 14 degrees with a 45 mph wind. Who knew what the wind chill was (-13 degrees, I think). I figured shooting would be limited as I wasn’t going to be jumping out of the car much. In an ice-covered cemetery, its difficult to compose your masterpiece while you’re trying hard not to fall on your ass. So, a zoom lens and a camera out the car window was my plan. Being out there at the mercy of nature is terrifying but cathartic. 

It was colder than Christmas. Roads were plowed throughout the property, which was quite a feat, actually. If you had not plowed and shoveled the day those nine inches of snow fell weeks ago on January 25th (2026), there was no way to do that a day hence. The sleet and ice that followed solidified the concretion so that nothing could penetrate. Roads and sidewalks everywhere in the Philadelphia area were treacherous for the next three weeks. So why not attempt to navigate some cemetery ice fields?

Far from spring, plastic flowers punctuate the ice fields

As much as I’d like to disagree with Joan Didion when she says that happiness is a consumption ethic, I would not be driving around in an ice-covered cemetery in frigid weather if the built landscape was not there. These monuments are a very obvious form of consumerism, and maybe because of that I find this landscape much more interesting than a field of flowers or a sunset on the bay. To paraphrase the Stones again, let’s do some living after they’ve died.

Looks like one of those old Victorian etchings of a cemetery, right?

However, when you can’t open the car door due to the insane wind gusting across the permafrost, you begin to question your life choices. Torrents of powdery snow in the low contrast landscape seemed like a fast-moving fog monster. BUT, you can always power-wind the windows down to shoot, right? Except – the passenger window stuck about four inches down! I could hear the winding motor straining inside the door. Cold! Snow blowing inside! Fumbled quickly with the electric window lock switch, thinking that I had hit that by accident! But no, the window seemed stuck. I hit the rocker switch both up and down, back and forth, but the window just fidgeted. Like an idiot, I hit the driver’s side window switch to see if that would go down. I was torn between getting the windows open in order to shoot some photos, and having them stuck open.

Silhouette snowscape, Fernwood Cemetery

Fear Factor Fernwood: Now the driver’s side window is also stuck open about four inches and I’m getting pelted with snow! I’m in a sound bath of a howling gale! Prayed to all the known gods - you know, those gods you pray to when you realize in the morning that you left your wallet on the seat of your car overnight?

I put the RAV in gear and quickly drove down the hill toward the community mausoleum, thinking the building would break the wind. I wonder if Andrew Wyeth ever experienced this sort of thing when he would drive to a snowy location in his vehicle, break out his paints, and create a painting on a canvas propped on his dashboard? According to his granddaughter, Victoria Wyeth, her grandfather loved the snow and would have driven right out to capture the beauty of the world after a storm. Absently, I hit the window rocker switches and both windows motored up and closed. Thanks Andy.

Deep sea diver in the snow, Fernwood Cemetery, Lansdowne, PA

I ended up with some images from Fernwood that I really like, some of which you see here. The color images seem less cold than the black and whites, but they do make you feel all the feels, right? I drove around a bit more but didn’t risk getting out or rolling down the windows. This final image was shot through my windshield as a sort of frozen fog enveloped my vehicle like some past-life regression. I finished typing this up on a Saturday, and then Sunday night into Monday, our area has another snowstorm planned. Guess where I’m going Monday after work? So many cemeteries, so little time.

Philadelphia Cemeteries that Mark Our Nation’s 250th Birthday – Part 1

Did you know that there are about twenty cemeteries in the center city Philadelphia area that were actually in existence in 1776? As we celebrate our nation’s birth this year – 2026 – we’ll have a look at some historical landmarks that are actually land. Land, that is, that still holds the remains of the people who were alive when the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776!

Betsy Ross' grave, Mount Moriah Cemetery

My goal is to write a short series of posts over the spring of 2026 so you can virtually visit many of these Colonial-era burial grounds with me. This initial post will serve as an introduction to more in-depth posts that will follow. I plan to discuss in detail many of these cemeteries, their history, their occupants, and their importance to the history of Philadelphia and America as a nation. We’ll also cover certain Philadelphia “landmarks” that are fake. Or perhaps I should call them reasonable facsimiles. Unlike the Betsy Ross House and the building where Jefferson authored the Declaration of Independence, these cemeteries are the real deal. These are the actual grounds that our forefathers walked on and are buried in. True history, zero fabrication. By the way, not only is the “Betsy Ross House” not Betsy Ross’ house, but she is also not buried there! (She’s buried at Mount Moriah Cemetery in southwest Philadelphia.)

 

Betsy Ross stone marker at the Betsy Ross House, Philadelphia

In January, 2026, I presented this material in a virtual lecture hosted by the Preservation Alliance of Greater Philadelphia. Thank you to everyone who attended and participated in the spirited Q&A session afterward! If anyone has comments or questions related to the post you’re reading now, please comment at the end, or you can reach me at Ed.Stoneangels@gmail.com.

Betsy Ross House, 239 Arch Street

The photo you see at the beginning of this article shows Washington Square, at Seventh and Walnut Streets. From 1704 to 1794, the square served as a Potters Field, a burial ground for people not associated with a church or other private organization. Thousands are buried beneath its fountain, monuments, and well-manicured lawns. Yellow fever victims, criminals, and strangers who died passing through town were buried here. It also served as a mass grave for Washington’s soldiers who died fighting the British prior to the British occupation of Philadelphia in 1777. (Read more here.)

The Potters Field that is Washington Square Park, Seventh and Walnut Streets

But lets go back a bit further in time. Our American ancestors buried their dead in the ground because this was the European tradition brought to America by our forefathers, mainly immigrants from Europe. This is one reason why we don’t have more sky burials of burn our dead on funeral pyres in the town square, as other cultures do. In-ground burial in America remains popular hundreds of years later.

Original 1761 Old St. Paul's Church building and graveyard (Third and Walnut Streets.)

The population of Philadelphia grew from 2,000 in 1700 to 30,000 by 1776. As the city grew, more and more burial grounds were needed. In 1776, the city itself was comprised of only 1200 acres! The entire city was bordered on the north by Spring Garden Street, the South by Christian Street, the west by Eighth Street, and the east by the Delaware River (click to see map). Outside those borders were farms and woods. And pirates, of course, who used Petty’s Island (off the coast of Pennsauken, New Jersey) as an anchorage point – but that’s another story. It is estimated that within these 1200 acres, 120 cemeteries existed in 1776!

Of these 120, many were small, like family plots on private land. But some were large like the First Baptist Church of Philadelphia Burial Ground (est. 1707, currently buried under the pavement at 218 Arch Street) with an estimated 5,000 graves. Now, just because a graveyard is only the size of a city block, this does not mean it only accommodates a few hundred burials. Palmer Burial Ground in Fishtown, for instance, takes up the area of one city block. It was established around 1732 and holds an estimated 40,000 burials! And it is STILL an active cemetery! Many colonial-era cemeteries and graveyards in Philadelphia not only remain active, but remain current and contemporary, as can be seen from this sign on the front of Old Pine Street Presbyterian Church at Fourth and Pine Streets (est. 1764).

Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead died January 10, 2026.

Only about twenty of these original 120 city cemeteries can still be visited. The fact that any of them exist at all is a credit to their owners (typically churches and synagogues). Most of the 120 were either moved or built over as the city grew. For a map of where all these burial grounds are located, I direct you to the website of the Philadelphia Archaeological Forum, and their interactive map of historic burial grounds. https://www.phillyarchaeology.net/historic-philadelphia-burial-places-map/

Not only can you see all the sites, but also the name of the burial ground, when and if it was moved, as well as where the graves were moved to – if they were moved at all. As I say, some graveyards, like the Bethel Burial Ground at 400 Catherine Street (in Queen Village), still lie undisturbed beneath our streets, playgrounds, and parking lots. Five thousand very quiet neighbors reside beneath Weccacoe Playground’s tennis court and community center (red building in the background in photo below).

Weccacoe Playground at 400 Catherine Street

Here's an interesting exercise - look for your residence (or workplace) in center city Philadelphia on the PAF interactive map and see if there is a burial ground beneath that location. You may even consider looking up your friends’ and neighbors’ homes to see if they might be living over a graveyard – always a fascinating topic for discussion.  

So as we go forward, and visit specific cemeteries, here are a few topics I will cover:

• ·        Cemeteries as landmarks
• ·        Significance of historic cemeteries
• ·        Growth of the city and need for cemeteries
• ·        Significance of gravemarkers (tangible reminders)
• ·        Cemetries that disappeared
• ·        Preservation - How cemeteries stay in business

Christ Church Burial Ground, Fifth and Arch Streets

So when friends and relatives come to Philadelphia this year to celebrate our nation’s 250^th birthday, the United States' Semiquincentennial, consider a walking tour of its Colonial-era cemeteries and graveyards! (By the way, a graveyard is technically a burial ground associated with a church, while a cemetery is a secular, or non-religious burial ground.) Join me next time for Part 2 of Philadelphia Cemeteries that Mark Our Nation’s 250th Birthday!

 

The Zen of the Snow-Covered Cemetery

The snowstorm began on Sunday, January 25, and got more intense as the day progressed. By noon, it was relentless. The Philadelphia area expected about six inches of snow, but it soon turned to sleet and became untenable. If you were driving in a cemetery – like me – you were hard-pressed to stay on the recently plowed roads. I found myself driving on the lawn in the blinding snow at one point. Kind of reminded me of the time near Snowmass, Colorado, when my friend Mike was driving us through a snowstorm in his Subaru. The car was creeping slowly forward, but we could see nothing through the windshield. I rolled down the passenger window to get a less foggy view, and right next to us were tall hedges! “Um, Mike? I think we’re in someone’s yard….”

Gates open, roads plowed ...

So why would I be driving around a cemetery in a snowstorm? The question is, why would you NOT be driving around a cemetery in a snowstorm? Unique experience! With the snow-covered monuments and statues, it is like immersing yourself in a dynamic art installation! The zen of a snow-covered cemetery is difficult to put into words. There is a state of attentiveness that happens clearly in such an environment in such a situation. As Brad Warner says in his book, Hardcore Zen, its not enlightenment, and "yet there is something, and even though this experience doesn't change anything at all, it changes everything." 

I was there at 9:30 a.m., when the cemetery opened. This was hours before the radio started pleading with people to stay off the roads unless it’s an emergency. I knew it was going to snow the night before, so I planned on hitting Holy Cross Cemetery in Yeadon, PA (which borders Philadelphia where I live, on the west side). It is one of my go-to cemeteries because it has lots of low statues that get covered with snow. It is also relatively convenient for me to get there and I know that unlike Woodlands Cemetery in West Philly, Holy Cross plows its roads.

The snow was soft as it fell, and I made a few quick statue photographs but JESUS CHRIST was it cold (see above)! And windy! With chemical hand warmers in my gloves, hood up over my head, I kept the SUV running with the heater on full blast as I jumped out every few minutes to photograph something. To drive through a snow-covered cemetery is one of the reasons God gave us SUVs. God, however, cannot prevent you from locking yourself out of it in a snowstorm like I experienced about fifteen years ago. Always never do that.

I was careful not to slip in the snow (which was getting deeper) as I walked amidst the gravestones. The whiteout made it easier to spot the ceramic memorial photographs on the stones. I don’t think I’d ever seen this one before, even though I’d been in Holy Cross countless times. Might be a postmortem photo, not sure. Snow and bitter cold changes your perspective, as well as your tolerance for pain.

Postmortem image?

The trucks were re-plowing the roadways during the 90 minutes or so that I was there. Saw a small herd of deer running away from the plow truck at one point. The workers must have thought I was nuts. Or maybe they thought I was true to my art. Naw, they probably just thought I was nuts. When the snow started to fall more and more heavily, it was with less and less alacrity that I would stop and jump out to make a photograph. I only strung lights on a couple statues as it was just too cold to work the fine wires and switches on the battery packs. But like Christmas, its not over, ‘til its over, and you throw away the tree (from the Louden Wainwright song, Suddenly its Christmas). I finally resorted to just shooting out the window with a zoom lens.

Driving became virtually impossible. Defrosted snow turned to ice on my wiper blades, requiring a stop every few minutes with attempts to pull enough ice off the wipers so I could sort of see through the windshield. Then came the sleet. This storm, and driving a vehicle in it, just became a discordant experience. When I finally left the cemetery and got to the main roads, vehicles were stuck everywhere, on small inclines, at intersections. Again, it reminded me of Colorado. Once I was invited by a group of British friends to ski the Arapaho Basin with them. The mountain was higher and more remote than I was used to. It began to snow heavily as we began to descend from the top. My goggles fogged up and they left me for dead. Ah, good times.

So why would I put myself through this? If I lived in Colorado, this sort of storm would be a more quotidian event. However, Philadelphia rarely sees this heavy a snowfall. So, when such a gift is bestowed upon us, I view it as an impact opportunity not to be squandered. That said, getting stuck in a snowbank on the highway is not my jam. I did have to back down an on-ramp to Interstate 95 near the airport because a small clot of cars was blocking my progress. Seems the highway maintenance vehicles plowed the snow against the on and off ramps, blocking them. As Foghorn Leghorn says, “Some people ain’t got the sense God gave a bowling ball.” 

By the next morning, the nine inches of snow was anointed with a layer of ice that only a flamethrower could penetrate. Temperatures had dropped to about eighteen degrees after the sleet storm Sunday afternoon. They dropped into the single digits over the next few days. I didn’t go back to Holy Cross Cemetery during the week because with the snow sleeted over, this concretion became nine inches of ice. My friend Linda, in my neighboring state of Delaware, calls this “snowcrete.” You take your life in your hands trying to climb through/over a crosswalk. It is relatively easy to do a James Brown split on the ice if you aren’t careful. Owwww! (screamed in a high-pitched James Brown-type vocal).

I did spend a few hours after work during the week driving through various cemeteries in the area, shooting bleached snowscapes and every once in a while, getting out of my vehicle to shoot something up close. The close shots were rare, because even though roads were plowed in some Philadelphia and south Jersey cemeteries, you could not actually walk on the ice fields. Too treacherous. Too real. Didn't want to get stuck in the snow like this hearse at Laurel Hill Cemetery!

Hearse in the snow, Laurel Hill Cemetery, Philadelphia

So back to zen, and the truth found in the frozen reality of a snow-filled cemetery. There is that, but I’m also a treasure hunter, I guess, looking for that once-in-a-lifetime photograph in a snow-covered graveyard - these sophisticated built environments we make to avoid the truth. Or at least tuck it away down a side street. Attempting to make an amazing photograph is not a hobby, or a job for me – its more like an addiction, as one of the characters said in reference to wildcat oil drilling in the television series Landman. While I wish I was good enough to capture a Red-Tailed hawk plucking one of the just-released doves out of mid-air at a funeral, I must be content with shooting gravestones in the snow. I rather like this one below, which I made in Fernwood Cemetery, in Lansdowne, PA.  Kind of looks like and old Victorian lithograph, doesn't it?

While it is tempting to stay indoors where my furnace works, there is hot water to shower, and the ice box is filled with frozen burritos, I have been venturing out daily to photograph the ice in my local cemeteries. I plan to continue doing so until the city decides to remove the frozen snow, the weather gets warmer, and the rock salt barges are freed from the ice on the Delaware River (now that’s ironic).