Articles from the September 25, 2011 edition

When we pulled up to the rusty iron gates of the cemetery I told my wife it felt like I had been there before. If that were so, it had probably been 45 years and the journey back had been a strange one. I guess I’ve known for a good part of my life that my maternal great-grandmother had died young, the result of a hard life on a homestead north of Fort Sumner. What I don’t remember ever hearing was where she was buried. She died after complications from a miscarriage in the spring of 1919. It happened while my gre...