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| Power Style Wellness Connections |
THE LAST PIECE OF REAL ESTATE YOU’LL EVER NEED
By Lucy M. Pritchett
Etta Rae Hirsch drives me around the area in her dark blue Lincoln Town Car. Trees
shade the road. Flowering bushes add color to the landscape. We are looking at
property.
She points out people who already
own land here. Entrepreneur Colonel Harland Sanders, explorer George Rogers
Clark, confectioner and caterer Jennie Benedict (creator of Benedictine), and
sculptor Enid Yandell. Watterson, Bingham, Castleman, Speed, and Seelbach.
Quite famous names around these parts.
We are looking at cemetery lots. It is a perfect summer’s day. The sky is blue,
punctuated with silver-white clouds, the robins are ruffling in the grass, the geese are
gathering at the lake, and all is peaceful and serene.
This is Cave Hill Cemetery. Once a farm, the land was dedicated in 1848 as a rural
cemetery in Louisville located at Baxter and Broadway.
Etta Rae is a vivacious redhead. She is dressed conservatively in black pants, a
muted leopard print blouse, and black flats. Color comes from her matching orangey-
red lipstick and fingernail polish. A gold sculpted bird brooch flies on her shoulder.
And, did I mention her glowing red hair?
Etta Rae is a memorial sales counselor for the cemetery and has been for 30 years.
“People tell me I should retire, but I can’t imagine getting up in the mornings and not
going to Cave Hill,” says this 71-year-old energetic woman. “What would I do?”
Etta Rae says she officially works only three days a week, but, “I am here every day.
And families know they can call me up to 10 o’clock at night.” When she is not at
Cave Hill, she is home working on monument and marker designs. “I have a flair for
design and have designed many of the markers here. More and more people want
contemporary, sculptural designs. There is a lot of black in the newer areas.
“Some people think I own the place…or live here,” she says with a smile. Indeed, she
estimates she has counseled 17,000 families over the years with pre-need or at-
need plans.
“When a family walks through the door, I know it is not going to be a pleasant time.
“I go to the funerals of those I know or have helped and gotten close to the family.
The hardest ones are for children. At a recent memorial service, one year after the
child’s death, I just totally broke down sobbing,” she says.
Etta Rae has attended funerals for teens who died of a drug overdose, gunshot
wounds, and stabbings. And, she added, “I used to see a lot of AIDS deaths, but not
so much any more.”
She had the heartbreaking task of selecting a grave site for a friend dying of ovarian
cancer. She has shown lots in the dark days of winter by shining her car’s headlights
on the spaces.
Picking a grave site is not that easy. “Some people want to be buried under a tree, or
on top of a hill, or insist that they don’t want to hear the traffic on Grinstead Drive or
Lexington Road. And especially not noise from the expressway.”
So Etta Rae drives around the 296-acre cemetery showing areas that are still
available. She refers to sections of the cemetery as we would refer to street
numbers. The Colonel is buried in Section 33, sculptor Barney Bright is buried in
Section 29, and Barry and Mary Bingham are buried in Section 13.
“When I first came here, this whole area was just field,” she says, gesturing over
sections 38 through 40 that are filled with headstones and monuments. “Now it is
almost full.”
Death waits for no one.
Sometimes there is laughter. Couples come in to make burial decisions while they are
healthy and thinking ahead. “I have had some couples lie down on the site and have
their picture taken so they will know what they will look like lying there.”
But when a father comes in to buy a lot for his grown daughter who is in the hospital
dying, or a man comes to make arrangements to bury his fiancé or a wife to bury her
husband, there are only tears.
“I am counseling and advising people about making decisions on the worst day of
their lives,” Etta Rae says shaking her head. She has seen all the reactions to
death: total denial, shock and awe, and high drama. Wives tell her, “I begged him to
take care of this sooner.” Now she will have the expense not only of the burial lot, but
the added expense of opening and closing of the grave, and the monument or
marker. Sometimes families squabble. Someone wants to be in control or a family
member wants no part of the decision.
“Families just need to love each other,” she says.
After the tour, Etta Rae sits in her wood paneled office in the limestone Columbarium
at the Grinstead Drive entrance. On her desk is her black daily appointment book
crammed with notes and papers held with a five-inch silver paper clip. Behind are
shelves displaying urns in marble, bronze, or wood to hold the ashes of a loved one
who has been cremated.
In the Columbarium there are 750 niches for cremated remains. Some people,
though, want part or all of their ashes spread over Churchill Downs, a favorite golf
course, or at sea. Decorated small keepsake urns hold a loved one’s ashes to be
kept by a family member. “They just hold a little bit,” she says. A modern nod to the
sentimental fashion in Victorian times when women wore lockets or brooches holding
a bit of hair of a dead loved one.
Her cell phone rings and she gives a startled jump. She reaches out and picks up the
phone with her slim fingers and says, “This is Etta Rae.”
“What are you looking for and do you have family here?” are the first questions she
asks a caller. “If they have family here it is important that they be near them. I try to
get them as close as possible.”
People call her with all sorts of questions or concerns. What kind of flowers can they
bring to place on the grave (“No silk or plastic”), to report that after a big rain, the
grave dirt has sunken (“We fill it up”), or a chipmunk has dug a hole near the
headstone (“We fill that in, too”).
At Christmas time, artificial flowers or decorations can be displayed, but, she says,
“They have to be cleared by January 31, because on February 1 we will throw out
anything that is artificial and still on the grave.” Fifty percent of the price of the lot
goes into a perpetual care fund for just such maintenance.
“In the old days, when there was a trolley stop at the front entrance, people could
pay a nickel and take a horse and buggy ride to their lot and back” Etta Rae says.
And many of her clients recall, in their youth, visiting the large lake on the grounds to
feed the ducks.
The 160-year-old cemetery is on the National Register of Historic Places, which
means no new highways or shopping centers will spoil the beauty of Cave Hill.
You don’t really need a guide when driving around the cemetery with its monuments
to the dead. It is pleasant to wander the narrow winding roads that branch off of the
main road. And here is a tip: the main road has a helpful white line painted down the
middle that will get you back to one of the entrances. But beware, it is easy to get lost
here…but only for the living.
Lucy M. Pritchett (lucy@iamtodayswoman.com is a regular writer for Today’s Woman.
By Lucy M. Pritchett
Etta Rae Hirsch drives me around the area in her dark blue Lincoln Town Car. Trees
shade the road. Flowering bushes add color to the landscape. We are looking at
property.
She points out people who already
own land here. Entrepreneur Colonel Harland Sanders, explorer George Rogers
Clark, confectioner and caterer Jennie Benedict (creator of Benedictine), and
sculptor Enid Yandell. Watterson, Bingham, Castleman, Speed, and Seelbach.
Quite famous names around these parts.
We are looking at cemetery lots. It is a perfect summer’s day. The sky is blue,
punctuated with silver-white clouds, the robins are ruffling in the grass, the geese are
gathering at the lake, and all is peaceful and serene.
This is Cave Hill Cemetery. Once a farm, the land was dedicated in 1848 as a rural
cemetery in Louisville located at Baxter and Broadway.
Etta Rae is a vivacious redhead. She is dressed conservatively in black pants, a
muted leopard print blouse, and black flats. Color comes from her matching orangey-
red lipstick and fingernail polish. A gold sculpted bird brooch flies on her shoulder.
And, did I mention her glowing red hair?
Etta Rae is a memorial sales counselor for the cemetery and has been for 30 years.
“People tell me I should retire, but I can’t imagine getting up in the mornings and not
going to Cave Hill,” says this 71-year-old energetic woman. “What would I do?”
Etta Rae says she officially works only three days a week, but, “I am here every day.
And families know they can call me up to 10 o’clock at night.” When she is not at
Cave Hill, she is home working on monument and marker designs. “I have a flair for
design and have designed many of the markers here. More and more people want
contemporary, sculptural designs. There is a lot of black in the newer areas.
“Some people think I own the place…or live here,” she says with a smile. Indeed, she
estimates she has counseled 17,000 families over the years with pre-need or at-
need plans.
“When a family walks through the door, I know it is not going to be a pleasant time.
“I go to the funerals of those I know or have helped and gotten close to the family.
The hardest ones are for children. At a recent memorial service, one year after the
child’s death, I just totally broke down sobbing,” she says.
Etta Rae has attended funerals for teens who died of a drug overdose, gunshot
wounds, and stabbings. And, she added, “I used to see a lot of AIDS deaths, but not
so much any more.”
She had the heartbreaking task of selecting a grave site for a friend dying of ovarian
cancer. She has shown lots in the dark days of winter by shining her car’s headlights
on the spaces.
Picking a grave site is not that easy. “Some people want to be buried under a tree, or
on top of a hill, or insist that they don’t want to hear the traffic on Grinstead Drive or
Lexington Road. And especially not noise from the expressway.”
So Etta Rae drives around the 296-acre cemetery showing areas that are still
available. She refers to sections of the cemetery as we would refer to street
numbers. The Colonel is buried in Section 33, sculptor Barney Bright is buried in
Section 29, and Barry and Mary Bingham are buried in Section 13.
“When I first came here, this whole area was just field,” she says, gesturing over
sections 38 through 40 that are filled with headstones and monuments. “Now it is
almost full.”
Death waits for no one.
Sometimes there is laughter. Couples come in to make burial decisions while they are
healthy and thinking ahead. “I have had some couples lie down on the site and have
their picture taken so they will know what they will look like lying there.”
But when a father comes in to buy a lot for his grown daughter who is in the hospital
dying, or a man comes to make arrangements to bury his fiancé or a wife to bury her
husband, there are only tears.
“I am counseling and advising people about making decisions on the worst day of
their lives,” Etta Rae says shaking her head. She has seen all the reactions to
death: total denial, shock and awe, and high drama. Wives tell her, “I begged him to
take care of this sooner.” Now she will have the expense not only of the burial lot, but
the added expense of opening and closing of the grave, and the monument or
marker. Sometimes families squabble. Someone wants to be in control or a family
member wants no part of the decision.
“Families just need to love each other,” she says.
After the tour, Etta Rae sits in her wood paneled office in the limestone Columbarium
at the Grinstead Drive entrance. On her desk is her black daily appointment book
crammed with notes and papers held with a five-inch silver paper clip. Behind are
shelves displaying urns in marble, bronze, or wood to hold the ashes of a loved one
who has been cremated.
In the Columbarium there are 750 niches for cremated remains. Some people,
though, want part or all of their ashes spread over Churchill Downs, a favorite golf
course, or at sea. Decorated small keepsake urns hold a loved one’s ashes to be
kept by a family member. “They just hold a little bit,” she says. A modern nod to the
sentimental fashion in Victorian times when women wore lockets or brooches holding
a bit of hair of a dead loved one.
Her cell phone rings and she gives a startled jump. She reaches out and picks up the
phone with her slim fingers and says, “This is Etta Rae.”
“What are you looking for and do you have family here?” are the first questions she
asks a caller. “If they have family here it is important that they be near them. I try to
get them as close as possible.”
People call her with all sorts of questions or concerns. What kind of flowers can they
bring to place on the grave (“No silk or plastic”), to report that after a big rain, the
grave dirt has sunken (“We fill it up”), or a chipmunk has dug a hole near the
headstone (“We fill that in, too”).
At Christmas time, artificial flowers or decorations can be displayed, but, she says,
“They have to be cleared by January 31, because on February 1 we will throw out
anything that is artificial and still on the grave.” Fifty percent of the price of the lot
goes into a perpetual care fund for just such maintenance.
“In the old days, when there was a trolley stop at the front entrance, people could
pay a nickel and take a horse and buggy ride to their lot and back” Etta Rae says.
And many of her clients recall, in their youth, visiting the large lake on the grounds to
feed the ducks.
The 160-year-old cemetery is on the National Register of Historic Places, which
means no new highways or shopping centers will spoil the beauty of Cave Hill.
You don’t really need a guide when driving around the cemetery with its monuments
to the dead. It is pleasant to wander the narrow winding roads that branch off of the
main road. And here is a tip: the main road has a helpful white line painted down the
middle that will get you back to one of the entrances. But beware, it is easy to get lost
here…but only for the living.
Lucy M. Pritchett (lucy@iamtodayswoman.com is a regular writer for Today’s Woman.