So many lambs

By Cletus Bianchi

Historical information is available through many outlets in the 21^st century. Online searches may be the easiest method for discovery. Museums and libraries contain volumes of information if you wish to search more actively.

I have found that the most interesting insight comes from first-hand accounts. Sure, they might recount history from their point of view, but I doubt you’d find a historical record anywhere without some bias.

Time is taking its toll on those who have seen and lived through world wars and social upheavals. Unless these witnesses to history keep detailed journals or tell their stories to willing listeners like me, their experiences go to the grave with them.

I have recently discovered that the stories and experiences continue in places like the historic Helena Cemetery.

Located on FM 81 about one mile east of downtown Helena, the cemetery is behind a gate and two cattle guards and surrounded by brush. Except for the green sign on the roadside, the gate and gravel road might lead to any ranch in any part of Karnes County.

Several years ago, my curiosity carried me up that gravel road. Though intrigued by the ornate and weathered headstones and iron fences that marked the graves, the overall condition of the cemetery itself saddened me.

With mesquite trees growing up through crypts and brush encroaching into gravesites, the cemetery looked ‘forgotten.’ I couldn’t help believing that its residents must have felt the same way.

Maybe you believe that once we’ve thrust off this mortal coil and moved on to whatever rewards we’ve earned, our earthly remains are not that important. I tend to believe that my old broken down body won’t be very useful where I’m going anyway. However, I believe the monument or memorial left behind to commemorate a life deserves respect.

So, I solicited help from family and friends and from the Texas Wranglers, a men’s social-service group at the University. It took numerous workdays over several years with axes, grubbing hoes, and chainsaws, but today the sacred ground looks much more like a cemetery and far less like a random scattering of graves in someone’s pasture.

Working on a project like this leaves one with a strange feeling of somber accomplishment. There’s real satisfaction in uncovering a grave that may have been concealed (and forgotten) for decades. Then you read the inscription and learn the marker is for another infant child lost in the late 1800s.

Many of the tombstones were broken, scattered, or simply illegible - victims of wind, rain, frost and neglect. With camera and notebook, I began recording and cataloging the markers and their locations to preserve them against time’s ill effects. The names, dates, and inscriptions were a new insight into life in early Karnes County.

As the work progressed, I became familiar with the different symbols that decorated many of the tombstones. The logs designating Woodmen of the World, the Masons, the anchors and flowers and open gates were all testament to the character, hopes and beliefs of the interred.

But the most sobering symbol, and most frequent, was the innocent lamb. Usually atop the tombstone, sometimes engraved into it, the lambs mark the loss of a child. If the Helena Cemetery is any indication, the life of a child was tenuous at best in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. Of nearly 240 gravesites, fifty-six were for children under age eighteen!

It seems some families were either less lucky or more persistent than others. For instance, W.H. and M.A. Mayfield buried three children in Helena – Edward Calvin, 1865-1875; Ada Lena, 1872-1889; and John Thomas, 1877-1890. R.C. and A.E. Robuck lost three children between 1860 and 1881, none of whom lived longer than ten months.

W.F. and A.G. Wishert had Robert E. from September 1896 to July 1897; then Fitzhugh Lee from May 1898 to February 1901; then W.F., Jr. from January to February, 1903.

I know that frontier families were larger so work could be shared. I would assume the Mayfields, Robucks and Wisherts had other children that lived and moved away from Karnes County. But I can’t begin to imagine the agony of losing so many children in such a short time period.

Several of my documentation days ended when I left the cemetery to pick up our two children at school in the afternoon. My drive into town was filled with thoughts of my own good fortune, the frailty of life, and how no parent should ever have to bury their child.

The inscriptions for these lambs speak volumes of their parent’s love. "Our darling one hath gone before, To greet us on the blissful shore" "Gone to be an angel" "Sleep on little Vina and take thy rest, God called thee home He thought it best"

In two instances, the parents, probably less affluent, placed a simple stone with "Our Baby" on a small grave. No name, no date.

The Helena Cemetery’s secluded location is peaceful and during recent visits, I’ve heard quail, sand hill cranes, hawks, cardinals and numerous other critters. Some might find its remoteness spooky and I confess I have not been there after dusk.

But I don’t think I would feel afraid. In fact, I now feel a strong sense of attachment to its residents. Maybe they don’t care if I found their footstone hidden in the brush and returned it to their grave or reassembled a smashed tombstone, but I like to think they do. Though I never knew any of the unfortunate parents, I know I shared their sorrow for their lost lambs.

I believe the Helena Cemetery is one of the crown jewels of Karnes County history and encourage you to drive up that gravel road someday. Stroll among the headstone of Karnes County pioneers, Confederate soldiers and other veterans, Texas Rangers and sheriffs, and all of those lambs.

"Suffer little children to come unto me, forbid them not,

For of such is the Kingdom of God"

Amen.

Columnist’s note: The photo record of the cemetery will be available at the Karnes City Chamber office beginning this week. Perhaps some generous soul would make some color copies to distribute to area libraries and chambers. Hopefully this will generate enough interest in our cemeteries that they might be adopted and maintained for the future.

(click here to read archived columns by Cletus Bianchi)