So Soon Gone.

                   Gray Spanish moss hung motionless in the live oaks. No breeze stirred to ease the heat and humidity. Insects hummed in the summer weeds that covered the lonely little cemetery on a sandy hill overlooking the bay.

 It is July 2, 1882 and on this day they've carried the body of Sherod Smoten Moody here to be burried in a sandy grave.

Today nearly one hundred forty years later we know so little about Sherod Moody. The last remaining person who knew and remembered him has long since died. We can learn two things about Sherod from the headstone and the eulogy his parents chose for it. For they later had inscribed upon it these words. 

Sherod Smoten Moody 

Born July 30, 1858 Died July 2, 1882

"Death     

Lies upon him

Like an 

Untimely frost

Upon the

Sweetest flower of the field."

He died young. He was 23 years old. His death was untimely and He was to his parents the "sweetest" boy.

It is easy to speculate why his parents inscribed such an epithet. Because of his kind and gentle nature and his ready smile?  Was he also handsome and tall with broad shoulders and unruly red hair? Perhaps because he was respectful of others and protective of the underdog. And was he a waterman? Had his boat capsized in a sudden summer storm? Had he drowned? Was this strong invincible boy frightened during his last drowning moments? Had he thought of Cedar Key? Had he remembered his Mother?

Time Marches on....

...and the sands of time havw blown over his resting place there on the sandy hillside.

...till finally there is no one living who remembers Sherod Moody.

...who he was or why he died so young.

Cedar Key is my home. I have lived here for almost as long as I have lived anywhere.

I have given this some thought and I have decided that I'd like for my mortal remains to be buried, not in a sandy grave by the bay, but in the rich moist soil of my native West Virginia. On a green hill behind the little church and near my great grand parents, my grandparents and my parents. 

Perhaps a hundred and forty years after my passing someone will read some epithet on my grave stone. Perhaps they will speculate as to the kind of man I was. I hope the speculation is sincere.