It was a VERY wet summer day that I stopped by Arlington Cemetery with my youngest brother in tow to pay a few respects. First, my great-uncle, Vietnam War veteran and namesake of my younger brother, Geoffrey Shumway, is buried in Arlington. The last time I had been to the cemetery was for his memorial in 2004, and now I knew it was part of my quest to find that hill that I remembered from 14 years ago and show my little brother, who had been too young at the time to attend, his namesake. We had just driven down from northern New York and because of traffic and a storm, arrived a little before 6. The cemetery closes at 7. So, we grabbed our bags and stepped out of the car, shortly realizing that we were not ducks and would probably need something to protect us from the rain. No umbrellas could be found in any bag or under any seat, so a few cuts later, and on the trash bags went. We must've looked like plastic specters walking through that cemetery, and since Arlington is such a solemn place, I hope we showed no disrespect by our peculiar means of staying dry.
We walked and walked and walked (Arlington is BIG), found two of the gravesites we were looking for, both cold and wet, and then couldn't find William Howard Taft's grave. I was two clicks from giving up; we were both cold and wet and a little bit miserable in our sogginess (make shifts trash bag raincoats don't work all that well when you're moving a lot.) We started walking back towards the exit in a different way than we had come, when I saw a big black stone and white lettering with -AFT. I got excited- in giving up I had found victory! I walked closer and, alas, it was a different hero with the same last name, and a first that I can't remember, but that was not "William Howard." Deflating from the false excitement, we walked on. When suddenly, the trees seem to open to my right to a bridge-like path of brick...
The story of discovering Robert Todd Lincoln's grave soon to come.
We walked and walked and walked (Arlington is BIG), found two of the gravesites we were looking for, both cold and wet, and then couldn't find William Howard Taft's grave. I was two clicks from giving up; we were both cold and wet and a little bit miserable in our sogginess (make shifts trash bag raincoats don't work all that well when you're moving a lot.) We started walking back towards the exit in a different way than we had come, when I saw a big black stone and white lettering with -AFT. I got excited- in giving up I had found victory! I walked closer and, alas, it was a different hero with the same last name, and a first that I can't remember, but that was not "William Howard." Deflating from the false excitement, we walked on. When suddenly, the trees seem to open to my right to a bridge-like path of brick...
The story of discovering Robert Todd Lincoln's grave soon to come.