I grew up in a small town, a place where there were a lot of secrets, and maybe even more gossip. I know some great stories on some "fine, upstanding" folks, but for the most part have been sworn to secrecy.
What I always enjoy, though, is hearing some of the more lighthearted stories, things that are funny today, but that I'm sure would not have been back in the day. It's even better when they can be repeated.

This past weekend a lady told me a wonderful story about her great aunt climbing out of the window of the Granville Presbyterian church, during a service, to run away and get married. It seems an unlikely story, but I later talked with another family member that said the lady might have done just that.

Something inside me made me stop by the cemetery where I was told she was buried, and as I stood at her grave I realized how little those old tombstones tell us about the person they memorialize. For the rest of my life I'm going to remember that story, and I'm going to do my best to carry forward the stories of my own family. It would be a shame for them to be known only for the cold stone above their graves.


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