pilgrimclassic: my glowing cemetery
Originally published on June 23, 2006:
Explanatory Note: In this post I refer my and John’s old podcast, which is no longer available for download. We have plans to resume podcasting together soon, and the first order of business will be to reinstate the old episodes. I’ll let you as soon as that actually happens!
I was all set to write a quick post to tell you about my & John’s first-ever podcast where I read a short creative nonfiction piece about the Magna Cemetery [Note: this cemetery is typically called the Pleasant Green cemetery, as this was the name of the town in the late 1800s. After the copper mine came to the area the town's name was changed to Magna, the name of the mine's biggest smelter. I suppose the area was no longer pleasant and green after Kennecott came to town] and as I was googling the cemetery in hopes of finding a good picture to add to the post, I found this juicy tidbit:
“Hauntings at Magna Cemetery: Much like the town of Magna, the Pleasant Green Cemetery reflects a sad history related to the settlement and hardships endured by the pioneers and immigrants who moved there to work in and live near the mines. Most of the people buried there did not have long lives, and mining accidents sometimes claimed multiple lives at once.
It is a fact that the Pleasant Green cemetery glows green during certain times of the year. For a long time, people believed this was due to unsettled spirits haunting the place, though now it is understood that it’s due to the mineral luminescence from the soil. This doesn’t make the cemetery any less eerie. From the toppled headstones to the overgrown bushes and weeds, it’s hard to believe this cemetery is being used and/or that the ghosts of those buried there aren’t feeling slighted by the lack of upkeep and respect.”
It’s funny to me that I want to be buried in a place that’s so barren and ugly. But I also feel a deep connection to this space. It’s where some of the family oddballs are buried, and I think I would fit in better there than if I were interred in the perfectly-green lawns of a more typical Utah cemetery. And, it seems weirdly fitting to know that I would be buried in a place of legend, of mystery, of great sorrow, and of ‘luminescence.’