Let's be honest. I suck at golf. I'm more interested in driving the cart, being outdoors, and socializing. With that being said, I was basically the 'caddy' for our foursome as I can't drive the ball to save my life, but I'm an amazing putter. All those years of miniature golf aiming for the clown's mouth finally found purpose.
While the others were teeing off driving the ball down the fairway I had time to look around the course and see the perfectly manicured, HUGE, stately homes. The homes were beautiful I have to admit. However, I'm so over wanting to actually own one. All I see is maintenance, expense, hassle and pressure to keep up a certain income level. For what? To impress whom? (sigh) My eyes then wandered off to the fringes of the golf course where I spotted what I thought were tombstones. I had to go check it out.
I trekked up the steep, grassy hill effortlessly off the beaten path like I was being pulled by an invisible rope that was attached to my chest. There it was. A pioneer family cemetery. I was immediately drawn to a tombstone that bared the name of a woman who died at age 44 in 1876. Next to her were her infant children she had lost to god-only-knows-what back then. One lived one day (or was a stillborn) and the other died at 3 months. I picked up such a sense of loss, sadness and sacrifice (but yet intense bravery and strength) at that cemetery as I looked around at the other tombstones. I could almost tangibly feel their life stories coming up through the ground. They were American Pioneers who braved crossing the continent and the Sierra Nevada range looking for opportunity. Most born in New York and Illinois. I got the weird sense that the dead pioneers were shocked that such grandiose luxury now existed where they had to scratch survival out of the dirt without modern amenities. I got the sense that they are freaked about how could all of this ornate development could exist where they carved out a homestead among the cruel harshness of nature.
Just as I was really starting to get a deeper read on the energy being emitted from the pioneer cemetery one of my golf group was yelling at me saying, "Get your ass down here. What are you looking at up there? The group in back of us is up our ass so we need to speed up play."
I scuttled down the hill and into the golf cart as quickly as I could. I could not shake off what I just experienced. I could not mention it to anybody in my group as they would dump me in the next available sand trap and leave me for dead being the freak that I am.
Anyway, this was the sign I was warned with going off the beaten path to check out the pioneer cemetery. I'm still not sure if the sign was meant to warn me against rattlesnakes, the people I was golfing with, or those who reside in the gated community.
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