Felt this in the throat

[Bill in Oregon]

Someone on Find-a-Grave had put out a request for a photo of the grave of "Infant Son Robertson," 8 May 1929- 11 May 1929.
He was buried in a small cemetery at the locality of Sardis, which is just a few miles west of Roby, among the gently rolling cotton fields of Fisher County, Texas. The death certificate simply listed the cause as "Premature birth." The doctor, a W.L. Allen, noted on the form that he had last seen the baby alive on the 8th -- probably upon having helped deliver him to his mother Minnie and her husband Homer.
Seeing that the cemetery was about 28 miles from my home in Sweetwater, I hopped in the truck and headed north to the burying ground, just north of Highway 180 a mile or less and not far from the Rolling Hills Quail Research Foundation whose work I am fond of.
At 3:30 on this sunny afternoon of the last day of summer, I was well aware of the 98-degree heat, but it lacked the malice of so many previous days this past couple of months. The cemetery of approximately 150 souls dates to 1898, and someone is taking reasonable care of it mowing to keep the mesquite from getting a foothold. It is still in active use by local families whose DNA is part of the soil here.
Working in a grid pattern, I looked as hard and as carefully as I could, but found no trace of a marker with "Infant Son Robertson" on it, although I found several graves of other babies. "Stillborn," said one. Three of them bore the carved lamb motif so sweetly used on the gravestones of babies and young children in late Victorian times and into the 20th century. As I was ready to leave, I passed a white marble stone cut in the shape normally issued for veterans.
When I walked past and turned around to read the inscription, I found words that cut right to my heart. Some saint had gone to the trouble and expense to mark this "tomb of the unknown child." Perhaps it was an infant boy, name of Robertson, who never had a chance ...

[GunnyMack]

Someone at some point had enough respect to put that stone up for some child, my how we need more of that in the world today!
Good on you Bill to try and find that child's resting place.

All along the Santa Fe trail there are markers. Be out coyote hunting and walk up to wrought in fence with a stone or 2. People had the respect for those lost to bury, mark and then get stones made and put up the fence.

Nowadays ya look at someone and they are apt to cut your throat... no respect- no wait, no SELF RESPECT!

[AJMD429]

.
Good to see that kind of reverence - then AND now.

[marlinman93]

When my ancestors came West in the 1840's one of my great aunts passed away down in SE Oregon near the dry lakes. The family buried her there, and put a marker on the grave using whatever wood they could find to build a headstone. They moved on towards the Willamette Valley, and settled an area West of Corvallis that today is named after the family, "King's Valley".
The local ranchers in SE Oregon at sometime discovered the grave marker, and over the many decades since people have taken care of her burial site, and even kept the site secret to anyone who asks about it. They do eventually reveal how to find it if you bring some evidence of your family association to her, and then will tell you how to find the grave site if you want to visit, and leave flowers.
I've always found it heart warming to know that local strangers felt so attached to someone's grave that they take such care to ensure it's not disturbed, and keep it up.

[jeepnik]

It’s not always lack of respect but world events that can effect the marking of a grave.

I have an older sister that’s has traced our family quite successfully. Knowing I traveled the western part of the US for fun and profit she would send me on outings to find places and people.

Mt dad’s mom died in 1942 from, as it turned out, a heart attack. We didn’t know exactly when or where she died or was buried.

My dad, his brother and their stepfather were all in the military so a cousin had to handle things. She has long since past without passing any information along. She didn’t have the wherewithal for buy a stone. The grave was lost to us.

Once my sister located the daughter of another of dad’s cousins we found she had the death certificate. We finally had a date, place and cause. Searches of records held no burial information.

My job was to visit cemeteries and try to find her. Pretty futile initially as she was buried with her family last name.

In one local cemetery I found a grave marked for a woman who had her same first and last maiden name. But she died almost 50 years earlier.

Turned out the marked grave was her aunt. And buried next to her in an unmarked grave was my grandmother.

It took almost sixty years an two generations but she now has a marker.

Time, events and so many tiny circumstances effect both life and death.