A couple weeks ago I had occasion to cross Illinois on my way between St. Louis and Wisconsin. Along the way, I stopped to see two old friends. Like, really old friends. But they have been much on my mind lately, given the 99%, the current campaign season, the Republican assault on workers and women... and the need occasionally to step back from it all and take the long view of social change, political shifts, and progressive change. So let's pay them a little visit, and a little honor.
First stop: Mount Olive, Illinois. A small town about half an hour up I-55 (or actually, along THE old Route 66) from St. Louis. There you can stop and say hello to someone whose name you probably know, but may not know much about -- or where she is buried. Take the sign to the Union Miners Cemetery, "resting place of good union people":
Long before she was an icon, and a magazine name, Mary Harris "Mother" Jones (1837-1930) was raising hell, awareness, and spirits among mill workers, child laborers, miners, and other working people. As a powerful union organizer, she would become known as "the grandmother of all agitators" and "the most dangerous woman in America." From West Virginia and Pennsylvania to Chicago and Colorado, from the coal mines to the White House and the offices of John D. Rockefeller, Mother Jones led the labor movement, helped to start the Industrial Workers of the World, championed the United Mine Workers. And here she was brought to her rest:
Mother Jones was born in Ireland, but came to be buried in Mount Olive, alongside "her boys" -- miners killed in the Battle of Verdin in 1898. The victims of that battle and others are memorialized alongside her:
As moving as the memorial is, even more so is the kiosk and bulletin board next to it. The great-great-great-grandchildren-in-spirit of Mother Jones come to visit, and leave messages. Coming from Wisconsin, I found this especially powerful:
The day was gray and somber, the mood fitting as I said good-bye to Mother Jones, and to all the miners buried alongside her and held in her embrace.
I was due back in Wisconsin, and hit the road again. An hour further up old Route 66 one comes to Springfield. I found myself drawn into town, to pay respects at another grave site. I've passed through a number of times over the years, but had never paused to visit Abraham Lincoln's final resting place. I find myself more and more lately stopping to take the time to do such things. And so I went into the city and found my way to Oak Ridge Cemetery.
On this chilly February Saturday afternoon, there were few visitors. This site, like Mount Olive, was quiet and still and indeed mournful.
For those who have not visited, you walk up to the tomb, and in through a door at the base. A narrow hallway takes you around inside until you come to the burial chamber:
A guide came along with me and a couple other visitors, explaining the historical details. Then they left. For a few minutes I was alone with Abe and his family -- a moment that was simultaneously chilling and sad, uplifting and deeply moving.
Emerging again from the tomb, I came back out into snow flurries turning back and forth into drizzle. Here's Abe's statue in front of the tomb. The rain and snow made it look as if he were weeping. Who could blame him.
Mournful though these places were, and are, I find such sites encouraging in the end. We fallible human beings strive ever onward for a greater measure of justice and fairness, a deeper commitment to humanity and happiness. We all fail in doing all we want... and we all succeed in doing more than we thought we were capable. We touch such places and people to remind us that none of us do this alone, that the struggle continues, that the community we belong to stretches backward through time, and forward into the future we create now. Happy President's Day, Abe. Thank you, Mother Jones. I am back in Wisconsin now, and we carry your memory, your work, and your hopes... forward!