Like I mentioned the other day, cemeteries are crucial for genealogists, so we couldn't visit Tennessee without visiting some of the oldest graves we know of. The cemeteries were beautiful. The rolling hills and fluffy clouds made for the perfect day to explore. The oldest marked grave that we know of is John Hubbard, who died in 1814. There were no headstones, only markers. Some of the wording on a couple were beginning to wear off. History vanishing - our history. I loved meeting these people, especially considering the scenery. What would they think of their descendants? I think well of them. I give them ample room to be complex and vigorous human beings, considering all that they lived with and without. Their lives allowed me mine... it was our first meeting. John Hubbard, hello. I hope you think I'm doing okay. I'm so glad we got to meet... our paths have officially crossed, even though your path is essentially a part of mine. Thank you, for surviving. For thriving.