By Jessica Gorman
Have you ever had one? A job that breaks your heart? Because you care so deeply about what you do that you can’t help but have your heart completely shattered by it. And, to be honest, if it didn’t break your heart, you wouldn’t be doing it in the first place.
As I write this, I’m not sure that I should. I feel like I’ve let the focus shift far too often from history to my personal thoughts. But ultimately, what good is this column if it doesn’t include a healthy dose of advocacy? And what good is advocacy if it’s not honest? So, as uncomfortable as it makes me, I’m going to take a minute to bare my soul a little bit.
People tell me all the time that they love history. They don’t. Not really. They really, truly think they do, they just don’t know what that actually means. They are entertained by it, maybe intrigued, some are only interested as far as they can use it for their own benefit. But actions speak so much louder than words and while I hear a lot of words, I just don’t see much action being taken.
The words I hear often come in the form of questions. Questions like when are y’all going to get that other building finished? Or, why haven’t y’all had another Ghost Walk? Or, you know, you should really do TikTok videos cleaning headstones. People would really love that. There are so many suggestions thrown my way, things we could do, things we should do. You know what I very rarely hear? How can I help? Or, here’s what I’d like to do to help.
I went to the Minden Cemetery this weekend. Atlas Preservation’s 48 State Tour is in the planning phase. As I have in the past, I was planning to submit the cemetery as a location request. Additional requirements have been put in place this year. One of those requirements is a video documenting work needed at the site. Sunday afternoon, I finally had a chance for a quick trip to the cemetery to start working on my video. It didn’t take long for my mood to sour. It feels like the deterioration of the old section is escalating. I look around and see the evidence of things happening that few would recognize, but I see it and it breaks my heart. I walked past the grave of my distant cousin, Louisa Maples. She died in 1851, just one week and one day past her 5th birthday. Her gravestone needs to be uncovered. Again. Nobody cares. People will tell me I’m wrong, but actions speak louder than words and there is no action. What about the graves of U.S. Congressman John T. Watkins or the graves of Governor Kennon’s great-grandparents or Governor Foster’s great-grandparents? The heartbreak turns to rage.
I walk through the cemetery and I wonder why I try so hard when I know it’s a losing battle? Why am I there to make a video in hopes of being part of a cemetery preservation tour in a place where people don’t even care about cemetery preservation? This is why when you ask about Ghost Walk or TikTok videos my answer is hesitant. I understand that your intentions are good. I do my best to explain without revealing the anger and the resentment that I feel. You see, people just want to be entertained by these things. There is no concern for the cemetery itself. There is no recognition of the responsibility that we bear to take care it, only the assumption that it must be someone else’s job. That said, I have considered and may still do a cemetery walking tour. It will not be for the purpose of entertainment. It will be an act of advocacy and used to raise awareness.
And, I may still submit a location request for the 48 State Tour. If selected, I’ll bend over backwards to make sure everything is in place and I’ll hope that people will show up and make it worth everyone’s while. In my heart, I already know what will happen. Those who do show up won’t be local. They’ll be from somewhere else and I’ll be glad that I did it, but I’ll also be angry because no one here is going to step up and get involved. And I’ll hope to be proven wrong. I always hope to be proven wrong.
These feelings extend beyond the cemetery. They extend to nearly every part of my job. If anybody really cared about whether we finish our other building, they would do more than ask when it’s going to happen. They would ask how they can help make it happen. Right now, it’s not even a consideration. Right now, all I can do is make sure the bills are paid. And all the while, I know that if the museum closed tomorrow, most wouldn’t even bat an eye. Again, people will tell me I’m wrong. I would love to be wrong. Please prove me wrong.
(Jessica Gorman is Executive Director of the Dorcheat Historical Association Museum, Webster Parish Historian, and an avid genealogist.)