May Day 2012 Gathering at Trevillion Cemetery

Every year on the first Saturday of May, located in the middle of the woods in Blue Hill Mississippi, you can find a gathering of decedents whose loved ones are buried in the Trevillion Cemetery. There are no sounds of traffic, or the ringing of telephones because of very low cell tower signals. As you turn off the main road that leads to the cemetery, you follow a winding dirt path lined on each side by beautiful old trees. This path twist's and turn's and finally, as if  out of no where, there is a small cemetery sitting  perched up on a hill that looks like a painting out of a Southern Magazine. The old headstones are surrounded of large Oaks and  flowing Spanish Moss sitting on top of fresh cut grass. Each  and every headstone has a small bokay of flowers, and not one is forgotten. The tallest Oak tree stands tall next to a Cedar tree, separated only by a chain link fence, but somehow through the century's have come together and intertwined , reaching out to each other.

 This May Gathering began with fellowship and singing of songs out of the Old Hymn Book's. Announcements were made and a yearly business report was given by Johnnie Harold Smith, secretary treasurer and ground keeper of  Trevillion Cemetery. A message was given by Paul Sutherland, followed by a Memorial Service for Francis Forrest Brown, Smith. This was followed with dinner on the grounds and a time to meet distant cousins and hear the story's of ones that had gone on before us.

Frances Forrest Brown, Smith

born 3-22-41 ~ died 11-11-11

Ashes buried at Trevillion Cemetery on May 5, 2012

Thou I was a stranger among those that gathered, I didn't feel like one from the minute I arrived to the second I drove away hours later. We sat on the old wooden pews under the pavilion that over looked the cemetery. I couldn't help but hear the sounds of the birds singing around us as I sat there and I could picture my ancestors that walked on this same land year after year, gathering to keep the grounds clean, and fellowship with singing and dinner on the grounds. My Third Great Grandparents,  John Orr and Martha A. Orr; My second Great Grand Aunt and Uncle, Uriah Samuel and Matilda Valines Rogillio Humphreys; Great Grand Aunt and Uncle, John Hiram and Annie Elizabeth Trevillion, Smith; several first cousin's, second removed and even one second cousin have all passed on. They lie there on that peaceful hill. My mother's parents, Vida Louvenia Smith, Thomas and Louie Jackson Thomas came to this gathering for many years. They too stood there at John and Martha Orr's graves , her Great Grandparents.

 There was a sweet peacefulness felt in the air . I looked around at the faces of those I have not met yet but will soon get to know. I saw the faces of the people that will pass on before others. I saw the faces of those that will continue the May day tradition, gathering year after year, generation after generation, reaching out to  each other, intertwining the generations to come, just like that Old Oak tree reaching out to the Cedar tree.

  

   I came away from the gathering of this May day, among this Old family cemetery, with lasting memories, new friends, and a connection to family roots. I not only learned about those buried here, but heard the story's about the giant Magnolia tree that stands so tall as if guarding the hill and showing off its beautiful white flowers and how James E Smith, as a young boy helping his father, Thomas James Smith, clear branches and tree shrub and wanted to save the magnolia tree that was then barely a few feet tall.

I heard the story about the grave marker with just the word ,"Wild man" on it. He was an out Law who was buried there and had no family and no one knew his name, but said he was a wild man .

There are even  signs of pride for our Country and those that served.

  and the sign of modern needs for those May Day gatherings.

I ended my May Day experiences sending special thanks to James E. Smith and his wife, Ruthie, for being such good friends and telling me about this gathering in the woods of Blue Hill, Mississippi where Our Paths Connect. And also to my friend, Patsy Warford, who traveled with me from Louisiana.