Stories

Walking along a concrete road with the rolling hills of Woodland Cemetery sprawling across the pages of history, I take in my surrounding. The autumn breeze welcomes me here, on this overcast day, the voices, the stories of the past become audible. I'm in search of three of their more famous residents, residents who are a part of my history as a poet, a wright state student but also as somebody born in Dayton. Yet, while I walk in search, I see hundreds of other who share an address but also a story in their history as well as mine and I begin to wonder of the lives of all who are just beyond my feet. I talk of stories on a normal bases as a way to define ourselves, our lives, but also out history. In the past few weeks I have seen journals, death certificates, newspaper articles, photographs and many other artifacts and documents that detail the countless stories of Dayton and I think about why I am here. These snapshots line the marble headstones and mausoleums and to me I feel a yearning to know more, more about what piece of Dayton history, world history they added. One person connects another, and through the countless interactions, everybody has some influence or interaction with the world. It is with this I contemplate my search and rethink my purpose here. I walk up towards a four way intersection within the cemetery and see a sign that directs me to the most famous residents ahead, yet yards away I see a family plot with the last name "Moore" etched in the stone and I wonder their connection, I see other last names familiar to me and I wonder their stories. I take a step back away and begin to stroll along my previous steps, I wave to Mr. Dunbar, who rests just up the road, he understands how the poet's mind works, Orville and Wilbur are entertaining guest and won't miss my presence. I change course and make my way through a road less traveled and listen to the stories that few take time to hear and learn of a different side of Dayton history