Cemetery Stories: Canada’s Largest Cemetery

Some cemeteries are small and quiet, tucked behind a church or hidden along a country road. Others are so large they feel more like cities for the dead. Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges in Montreal definitely falls into that second category.

Located on the slopes of Mount Royal, this cemetery is the largest in Canada and one of the largest in North America. With winding roads, towering monuments, and thousands of trees, it feels less like a cemetery and more like a historic park filled with stories.

History

Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges was founded in 1854 by the parish of Notre-Dame in Montreal. The first burial took place on May 29, 1855, for a 35-year-old Irish woman named Jane Gilroy.¹ Earlier cemeteries had been located near churches, but space and hygiene concerns, along with a 1853 city bylaw, forced a move to Mount Royal.1

Sitting on the mountain gives the cemetery symbolic meaning in Catholic tradition, representing hope for the promised resurrection. Surrounded by nature, it also offers a quiet place for reflection. Walking among the trees and winding paths, visitors can feel the combination of history, art, and natural beauty all at once, which also makes it a great spot for photography.

Today, Notre-Dame-Des-Neiges is recognized as the largest cemetery in Canada and the third largest in North America.²

The cemetery was designed during a time when burial grounds were being reimagined as peaceful landscapes rather than crowded churchyards. Its layout was influenced by the famous Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, with winding paths, scenic views, and carefully planned monuments.³

Over the years, the cemetery has become the final resting place for many notable Canadians, including hockey legend Maurice “The Rocket” Richard, beloved folk singer La Bolduc, music producer and talent manager René Angélil, and Sir Georges-Étienne Cartier, one of the “Fathers of Confederation”.⁴

The cemetery also functions as a large natural park, with more than 13,500 trees spread across its grounds.3 Because of its historical, cultural, and artistic importance, the cemetery was designated a National Historic Site of Canada in 1999.5

Haunted

With a cemetery this old and this large, it probably comes as no surprise that there are plenty of ghost stories attached to it.

One of the most well-known spirits is that of Sarah Ellen Page King, also called Sadie. Witnesses say her grave site is haunted by the sounds of a woman and infant weeping and crying.6 Sadie’s story is a tragic one. After losing her infant son George, she was sent to the Saint-Jean-de-Dieu Lunatic Asylum, likely for depression, and remained there for 24 years until she died in 1946.6 Her family never visited or even acknowledged her, and when she was buried beside her son, no tombstone was placed in her memory.6

While other alleged spirits haunt the cemetery, Sadie’s story is the one most often told for its tragic and haunting presence.6

Whether you believe in ghosts or not, it’s easy to see how the atmosphere of such a large and historic place could spark a few spooky legends.

My Visit

I visited in July of last year while I was in Montreal with my fiancé. He had a tattoo appointment, which meant I had some time to myself.

Naturally, I decided to spend it wandering around the cemetery.

Before I arrived, I made a short list of graves I wanted to visit, including “The Rocket” Richard and La Bolduc.

Even with Google Maps to guide me, I still got completely turned around. At one point, I wandered over to the maintenance office just as a bus full of workers was about to head out for the workday. I asked them for directions to the main office, and they kindly offered me a ride. I accepted and took a seat near the front.

They were the grass crew heading out to cut grass and clean up weeds around the cemetery. I happened to be wearing a T-shirt with my logo on it, which sparked a few curious questions. When I told them I was a cemetery photographer, they seemed genuinely interested. Everyone was very kind, and after a short drive, they dropped me off at the main office before heading off to start their workday.

I always try to visit the cemetery office, when there is one, because you never know what kind of interesting things they might have. The office was fairly busy, so I didn’t want to take up too much of their time. I asked if they had any brochures or maps, and they were able to give me a few pamphlets and they had a small booklet for sale. The only booklet they had left was in French, but I happily bought it anyway, since my mother speaks French and could translate it for me later.

To say the cemetery is big is an understatement.

I spent several hours walking the grounds and still only saw a small portion of it. It also happened to be an extremely hot day, so I took plenty of breaks in shady spots to cool down and catch my breath.

I did not manage to visit every grave on my list, but that just means I will have to go back and explore another section of the cemetery.

Even after several hours of walking, I felt like I had only scratched the surface of Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges. The size alone makes it an adventure, and every path seems to lead to another interesting monument or historic grave.

Next time I visit Montreal, this cemetery will definitely be on my list again. After all, there are still plenty of stories waiting to be discovered.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. History and Heritage | Cimetiere Notre-Dame-Des-Neiges
  2. Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges | Find a Grave
  3. Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery | Tourisme Montreal
  4. Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery | Atlas Obscura
  5. Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery National Historic Site of Canada | Parks Canada
  6. Haunted Montreal Blog #96 – Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery | Haunted Montreal

Cemetery Book Review: Graveyards

Ever wondered what graveyards really say about us?

Graveyards: A History of Living with the Dead explores that question in a really interesting way. From ancient burials to modern memorials, Roger Luckhurst looks at how people have dealt with death, remember people they’ve lost, and even turned cemeteries into places of art and culture. This book isn’t just about stones and bones. It’s about history, creativity, and the many ways the dead continue to shape the living.

Luckhurst takes readers on a global tour of burial traditions. He moves through early human burials, ancient civilizations like Egypt and Rome, religious grave sites, garden cemeteries, and modern memorials. Along the way, he also shows how graveyards appear in literature, film, and art, revealing how these spaces have inspired storytelling for centuries.

Here is the synopsis, from Goodreads:

“Why, how, and where do we inter our dead? How have people throughout history responded to the problem of laying their dead to rest? Roger Luckhurst sets out in search of answers in this arresting book. Taking readers on an unforgettable tour of the rich and unusual visual culture of the grave, he visits locales such as the pyramids of Giza, the catacombs and columbaria of Rome, and the cenotaphs erected to the world’s war dead. Along the way, he examines the diverse roles of graveyards in literature, art, film, and television.

In engaging chapters that look at all aspects of the treatment of the dead, Luckhurst covers topics ranging from early burials and the emergence of necropolises and catacombs to grave robbing, garden cemeteries, the perilous overcrowding of the urban dead, and the emergence of modern funerary culture. Exploring the cultural afterlives of burial and memorial sites in the popular imagination, he shows how graves have served as guides to the underworld, poignant dedications to those we have lost, as reminders of our own mortality, and settings in gothic horror.”

Graveyards is filled with beautiful images. You’ll find photos of memento mori, monuments, symbols, and even scenes from films that use graveyards to explore human fears and hopes. The mix of history and visuals makes the topic easy to connect with.

I thought this was a gorgeous book. It feels almost like an art book, thanks to the thoughtful layout and high-quality photos. The writing leans a little academic, but the references to pop culture and movies help keep things interesting and easier to follow. The book is packed with facts about the history of burial, paired with striking examples of memorial art.

Graveyards: A History of Living with the Dead is both engaging and thought-provoking. It ties together the history of burial with art, literature, and modern culture. It shows that graveyards are more than places of rest. They reflect the values, beliefs, and stories of the people who created them.

Even though it’s a bit academic, the images and cultural references make this an enjoyable read. I would especially recommend this book to cemetery enthusiasts, history buffs, or anyone curious about the stories behind graves and memorials.

Thanks for reading! 


I am always on the hunt for cemetery-related book recommendations. If you are an author and have a cemetery-related book you would like me to review, please reach out at hello@chantallarochelle.ca. I would love to hear from you!

A Collection of Clover & Shamrocks

With Saint Patrick’s Day coming up, it felt like the perfect time to share some clovers and shamrocks that I have photographed over the years.

I love the variety you can find in cemetery symbols, and although clovers and shamrocks are not super common in Ontario, I have come across a few interesting examples.

Clovers and shamrocks often get mixed up, but they are actually two distinct symbols.

Shamrocks

A shamrock has three leaves and is closely connected to Irish culture and identity.¹ It also carries an important religious meaning. According to tradition, Saint Patrick used the three leaves of the shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.¹ Because of that story, the shamrock became a symbol of both Irish heritage and Christian faith.¹ When it shows up on a gravestone, it can sometimes hint that the person buried there had Irish roots or a connection to Christian faith.

Four Leaf Clovers

Clovers are most often recognized in their four-leaf form. Unlike the shamrock, the four-leaf clover is not tied to Saint Patrick or religious teaching. Instead, it has long been linked with luck and good fortune.¹ The fourth leaf is actually a rare natural mutation, which is one of the reasons people began to see it as a lucky find.¹ In some traditions, the four leaves are said to represent faith, hope, love, and luck.¹

So if you ever find one in the wild, congratulations! You must be very lucky.


For me, finding these little details is all part of the fun of exploring cemeteries with my camera. Sometimes the smallest carvings end up being the most interesting discoveries.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Shamrocks vs. Clovers by Tui Snider | American Cemetery & Cremation Magazine

Stone Stories: Canada’s Cancer Nurse

I first learned about René M. Caisse by chance during a visit to downtown Bracebridge, Ontario. The restaurant I had planned to visit with my Mom was closed, as was most of the downtown core, because it was Easter Monday. Only one place was open, and it just so happened to be across the street from a statue of René M. Caisse.

After reading the plaque, I pulled out my phone and did a quick search to discover that she was the woman behind the herbal remedy known as ESSIAC.

I had never heard of Caisse before, or ESSIAC, for that matter. The more I read, the more I had to know.

What exactly was ESSIAC, and how did this small-town nurse end up known around the world? A little more searching revealed that her final resting place was also in Bracebridge, so I added a stop to our trip to pay our respects. By the end of the day, I would find myself standing beside her gravestone, reflecting on how one small discovery downtown had turned into a much larger story.

René M. Caisse

René M. Caisse was born on August 11, 1888, in Bracebridge.1 Trained as a nurse, she developed an herbal formula for patients that she later named “ESSIAC”, her last name spelled backwards.2 The formula included roots, bark, and leaves of plants such as burdock root, sheep sorrel, slippery elm, and rhubarb root.3

In her manuscript, I Was “Canada’s Cancer Nurse”: The Story of ESSIAC, Caisse described how she first learned about the herbs that would later shape her life’s work. In the mid-1920s, while serving as head nurse at the Sisters of Providence Hospital in northern Ontario, she encountered an elderly patient who had once been diagnosed with advanced cancer.4 According to Caisse, the woman told her that decades earlier, a local Indigenous medicine man had offered her an herbal remedy. The woman chose to follow his instructions, preparing a daily tea from the specific plants he identified in the region. When Caisse met her nearly thirty years later, she seemed to be in remission.4

Caisse wrote that at the time, a cancer diagnosis often felt like a death sentence.4 The patient’s story stayed with her. She recorded the names of the herbs and later began refining the formula, eventually combining several plants into what would become known as ESSIAC.4

Caisse maintained that she never claimed to have discovered a guaranteed cure for cancer, explaining that her goal was to control the disease and pain relief.4

A bronze statue in the Bracebridge downtown core honours her work. The sculpture, created by Huntsville artist Brenda Wainman-Goulet, stands on a stone base near where her clinic once operated.5 During the 1930s and early 1940s, thousands of patients travelled to the Muskoka region hoping to visit her clinic.2

But, along with the attention came controversy.

The medical establishment questioned the effectiveness of her remedy, and government reviews in Canada concluded there was no clinical evidence to support ESSIAC as a treatment for cancer.5 Some studies even indicated it could cause possible harm.3 Caisse, for her part, believed powerful interests stood in the way of broader acceptance. She wrote that it would make established research foundations “look pretty silly if an obscure Canadian nurse discovered an effective treatment for cancer.”4

Even so, people still seek out ESSIAC, drawn by word of mouth and the hope that this herbal blend might offer relief when other options feel limited. Her legacy remains visible in Bracebridge and beyond, through her statue, a theatre named in her honour, and through the many stories of those who came to her clinic in search of help.5

Beyond Caisse’s time, the remedy has been commercialized and repackaged. For example, the company ESSIAC®, through ESSIAC Canada International, touts its herbal blend as “trusted since 1922,” with marketing of powdered, capsule, and liquid extract forms.6 Meanwhile, Resperin Canada Limited claims to prepare “Resperin’s Original Caisse Formula Tea” using Caisse’s original herbal recipe.7

Even with all the marketing around it today, independent sources still say there’s no reliable evidence that ESSIAC works as a cancer treatment.3

Months after our trip to Bracebridge, the story followed me home. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my local natural food store carries a version of ESSIAC. Standing in the aisle and seeing her name and likeness on a bottle nearly a century later made the story feel less like history and more like something still unfolding.

Curious, I asked what forms they carried and ended up purchasing a small sample of the four main herbs that make up ESSIAC. The store sells it as loose herbs, herbal powder, in capsule form, and as a pre-mixed blend packaged in a large bag. The clerk told me ESSIAC is popular and they always keep it in stock. She mentioned that sales tend to come in waves, and that often people who have just received a cancer diagnosis come in looking for it.

It’s interesting to see how Caisse’s legacy still lives on the shelves of health shops nearly a century later, with people continuing to turn to it in moments of uncertainty. Whatever conclusions science has reached, the hope attached to her name has clearly endured.

René M. Caisse McGaughey suffered a broken leg after a fall at her home, from which she never recovered.8 Five weeks later, on December 26, 1978, she passed away at the age of 90.8 Although she received tempting offers to establish clinics in the United States, she chose to remain in Canada. In her writings, she explained that her ancestors had come to Canada from France in the 1700s and that she was determined to prove the merit of ESSIAC in Canada so the country would receive the credit.4 Not far from the statue that first caught my eye, Caisse now rests in Saint Joseph’s Roman Catholic Cemetery in Bracebridge.

Finding her grave felt like the final piece of the story. From spotting the statue downtown, to learning about her work, to standing at her grave, the story had come full circle. Her gravestone, which acknowledges her as the “Discoverer of ESSIAC” is simple yet powerful.

Walking among the rows of gravestones, I reflected on how her story is deeply rooted in this place. She is remembered not only because she lived and worked in Bracebridge, but because the community continues to honour her in visible and lasting ways.

In many ways, this visit brought together local history, public memory, and my own curiosity, all meeting at her final resting place.

René Caisse’s life offers a fascinating mix of determination, controversy, and local remembrance. She stands out as a woman from a small town who believed in an herbal remedy, faced bureaucracy, and left a legacy that is still visible today.

While the scientific verdict on ESSIAC is still debated, the story of its creator remains part of Canadian medical history.3

Visiting her statue in downtown Bracebridge, noticing her name on a product shelf, and standing beside her grave reminded me that remembrance takes many forms. Sometimes it’s cast in bronze, sometimes printed on packaging, and sometimes it’s etched in stone, just waiting for someone to notice.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Timeline of Essiac History | Rene Caisse Revolutionary Nurse & Holistic Pioneer
  2. Who was Rene Caisse? | ESSIAC Info
  3. Questionable Cancer Therapies | Quackwatch
  4. I Was “Canada’s Cancer Nurse”: The Story of ESSIAC by René M. Caisse, R.N. | Manuscript
  5. Honoured in Bracebridge | ESSIAC Info
  6. ESSIAC Rene Caisse | ESSIAC Canada International
  7. The 4 Herbs in René Caisse’s Formula | Resperin Canada Limited
  8. René M. Caisse McGaughey | Find a Grave

Cemetery Book Review: A State of Wonder and Serenity

I first heard about A State of Wonder and Serenity: Mount Pleasant Cemetery in February when Norman S. Track reached out to me last year via email. He asked if I’d like to review his new book. I was happy to say yes, not only because Mount Pleasant is a beautiful cemetery, but also because I have visited it myself.

It was so fun to see some of the headstones I recognized covered in snow. That made the winter scenes feel even more special and personal.

Here is a bit about the book, from Track himself, from Blurb:

“Mount Pleasant Cemetery is a Toronto landscaped cemetery with an arboretum. H.A. Engelhardt’s design followed Loudon’s concept that the atmosphere of a cemetery should be solemn, uplifting and educational. The cemetery opened 4 November 1876…Early February, the cemetery was transformed into a winter wonderland. Fresh snow, bare trees, and a clear blue sky produced a quiet, ethereal atmosphere. The sun being lower in the winter sky created long, dramatic shadows. After a heavy snow, time seemed to be wrapped in a white silence.

I listened to the silence and peered deeply into the shadows—I had entered Glenn Gould’s State of Wonder and Serenity at Mount Pleasant Cemetery in February.”

Norman S. Track is a photographer and writer who really knows how to capture the quiet beauty of cemeteries. This is one of his new works, published in 2025.

A State of Wonder and Serenity takes you through Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Toronto, which has an arboretum and was opened in 1876. Track explores the cemetery in February, highlighting the fresh snow, clear blue skies, and Victorian monuments casting long shadows. His photos beautifully capture the calm and quiet of the cemetery.

I read a PDF version of the book, which I think took a little away from the joy of experiencing this book. Some photos span multiple pages, and that didn’t translate as well on a screen. I think the physical book would make a much bigger impact.

Even in PDF form, though, I loved the photos that Track includes. He shows different sections of the cemetery, each with its own character. Seeing headstones I recognize in those snowy scenes made it feel more personal and special. Because it’s a photography book, it’s very easy to pick up and reflect on, so it’s perfect to look at slowly or come back to in sections.

It’s a beautiful look at cemeteries in the winter, especially for someone like me who tends to stay indoors during the colder months. Being able to experience the lovely winter views while staying cozy was a lot of fun.

I would recommend this book to anyone who loves cemeteries, photography, or quiet places to think. Track’s photos and words make it easy to feel like you are walking through Mount Pleasant, even if you’ve never been there. It’s a great book for photographers, history lovers, or anyone who enjoys peaceful winter scenes.

Thanks for reading! 


I am always on the hunt for cemetery-related book recommendations. If you are an author and have a cemetery-related book you would like me to review, please reach out at hello@chantallarochelle.ca. I would love to hear from you!

Cemetery Stories: The Oro African Church & Cemetery

Some of the most meaningful burial places are also the easiest to overlook. Sometimes they appear as nothing more than a quiet patch of land, easy to pass by if you do not know what you are looking at. The land beside historic churches often holds space for final resting places, even when there are no stones to signal them.

The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church and Cemetery was the first cemetery I have visited where there are no visible gravestones. At first glance, there is little to suggest a burial ground is even here. Just open grass and quiet trees.

Standing there, it quickly becomes clear that this is not a forgotten place. It is a deeply significant one. The lack of grave markers does not mean a lack of stories.

Instead, it invites you to look closer and ask questions. In many ways, it makes the stories feel weightier and even more important to share.

The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church

The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church was built between 1846 and 1849, by members of the Oro African community.1 Many of them were Black veterans of the War of 1812 and their families, who had been granted land in Oro Township by the British government.1 These families were building new lives here, often under difficult circumstances, and the church quickly became a cornerstone of that effort.2

For these families, the church became more than a place of worship. It served as a central gathering place for worship, education, and community life, especially at a time when Black settlers faced widespread discrimination and exclusion elsewhere in Upper Canada.3 The African Methodist Episcopal faith offered a space of autonomy, spiritual support, and leadership within the community.3

The church itself is a modest wooden structure, but its historical importance is immense. Its simplicity makes it easy to underestimate at first. For years, local folklore suggested that Oro may have been a terminus of the Underground Railroad.4 Later research clarified that many of the earliest Black settlers were retired soldiers from Captain Robert Runcie’s Coloured Corps or free Black individuals from the northern United States.4

It is one of the oldest surviving African Methodist Episcopal churches in Canada and is recognized as a designated heritage site at both the provincial and federal levels.3 That recognition helps ensure the stories tied to this place are not lost, even as the surrounding landscape continues to change.

The adjacent cemetery is believed to contain the graves of early members of the Oro African community, including church founders, families, and descendants of the original settlers.5 Contemporary accounts recall several burials taking place here, with the last known burial being that of James Thompson around 1950.4 The exact number of graves remains unknown.4

Today, no individual graves are visibly marked, but the burial ground itself remains protected and acknowledged as sacred space.

The Cemetery

While the church often receives the most attention, the cemetery is just as historically important. The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Cemetery quietly holds the same story of community, faith, and perseverance.4 The burial ground developed alongside the church and served the Oro African community for decades.4 Those buried here are believed to include Black settlers, War of 1812 veterans and their families, and later members of the congregation who remained connected to the site even as the community dispersed over time.4

Early burials were likely marked with wood rather than stone, a common practice in the mid-19th century, especially in rural and marginalized communities.4 As years passed and markers weathered away, the cemetery slowly returned to the landscape around it.

The absence of headstones does not mean the site was forgotten. In fact, the continued care of the land tells a story of respect and remembrance in its own way. The cemetery is formally recognized as part of the historic church property and is protected as a heritage site.3 This protection helps ensure that the land is treated with care, even when individual names are no longer visible. Preserving the space acknowledges both the individuals buried there and the broader history of Black settlement in Oro Township.3, 5

This was my first time visiting a cemetery with no visible headstones. The absence of stones gave the place a sombre feeling, and the forested area behind the church presented a mystery. How far does the burial ground go? I found myself looking closely at the landscape and noticing little details like yellow daffodils in bloom. Could they be marking a grave?

This is a place of history, and that carries its own weight. The cairns, historic plaques, and information at the site make it very clear that these stories have not been forgotten. One sign even had a QR code, but for whatever reason, we could not access the website. That only encouraged us to really take in our surroundings, including the cairns, the beautiful historic building, and the quiet field in front of us.

I left wishing we could have peeked inside the church. Even from the outside, it was easy to feel the presence of the community that built this place, the generations who worshipped here, and the lives that rest quietly in the field beyond the building.

Visiting a cemetery without traditional headstones really changes how you experience the space. There are no rows of stones with carved names or dates. But that does not mean the stories are missing. The stone cairn lists the surnames of the families buried here, almost like a quiet roll call of the community. A historic plaque nearby shares a short version of the church’s importance and the role it played in the lives of Black settlers in Oro Township.

Remembrance here feels different. Instead of focusing on individual graves, you find yourself looking at the land as a whole. The trees. The open field. The quiet. You slow down without even meaning to. You think about the people connected to this place, even if you cannot stand in front of a stone with their name on it.

The lack of headstones does not take away the meaning. It simply invites you to remember in another way.

The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church and Cemetery stands as a reminder of resilience, faith, and community in the face of systemic barriers. It encourages visitors to slow down, to notice the land beneath their feet, and to recognize the lives that shaped this place even when their names are no longer etched in stone.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church | Township of Oro Medonte
  2. Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church National Historic Site of Canada | Historic Places
  3. The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church | County of Simcoe
  4. The Oro African Church: A History of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, edited by Tim Crawford, Published by The Township of Oro-Medonte | Book
  5. Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church | Carleton University

A Collection of Hearts

Hearts have a way of catching your eye on a gravestone, and with Valentine’s Day weekend here, what better time to take a closer look at them as a cemetery symbol.

Maybe it’s the shape we all associate with love, or the way it reminds us that cemeteries aren’t just about endings, but also about connection.

Over the years, I’ve noticed hearts appearing in all kinds of designs, from simple carvings to detailed symbols, each one quietly telling a story about love, devotion, and memory.

According to Understanding Cemetery Symbols by Tui Snider, hearts are one of the most easily recognized and commonly used symbols in cemeteries. But hearts, like hand symbolism, often hold more meaning than meets the eye.

In Colonial-era cemeteries, hearts were often used to represent a blissful or peaceful soul, with more emphasis on spiritual contentment than romance. By the Victorian era and into today, the heart took on a more familiar meaning, becoming a symbol of romantic love, emotional connection, and affection.

On some Catholic graves, you’ll see a heart surrounded by thorns and topped with a cross. This Sacred Heart is a reminder of Christ’s sacrifice and devotion, showing love and faith in a very visual way.

A menorah on a Jewish gravestone traditionally represents faith and the light of Judaism. When it appears carved inside a heart, it seems to add another layer of meaning, possibly highlighting a deep love for faith, family, and tradition.

The heart in a hand is a symbol often found on Odd Fellows graves. It represents giving from the heart, showing love, kindness, and helping others. It’s a visual reminder of the values the group shares.

The Unified Heart emblem can be found on Leonard Cohen’s grave. It first appeared in his 1984 book Book of Mercy and is made up of two interlocking hearts, one pointing up and one pointing down. People often see it as a symbol of bringing opposites together, like spirit and matter, or connecting the self with something larger than ourselves.

While it’s not a traditional grave symbol, it echoes many of the same themes of love, balance, and connection found in cemetery hearts.

Since it’s Valentine’s weekend, I’d love to know what your favourite heart symbol is? Is there one you’ve spotted that really caught your eye?

Thanks for reading!


References:

  • Understanding Cemetery Symbols: A Field Guide for Historic Graveyards by Tui Snider | Book
  • Stories in Stone: The Complete Guide to Cemetery Symbolism by Douglas Keister | Book
  • Gravestone Symbols and Their Meanings | The Catholic Cemeteries
  • Odd Symbolism | Half Moon Bay Odd Fellows

A Collection of Bingo Cards

One of my favourite things about wandering through cemeteries is coming across gravestone symbols. Over the years, I’ve noticed that certain themes appear again and again. I’ve also noticed that symbolism is evolving, that modern grave symbols are starting to reflect everyday life rather than religion or tradition. These symbols often say the most about a person, quietly hinting at what mattered to them beyond their name and dates.

Today, I want to take a closer look at bingo cards as a gravestone symbol.

I’ve photographed many of these symbols over the years, and each one has its own take on the same idea. It’s interesting to see how the simple card design is depicted and sometimes filled in. Seeing this symbol appear in different cemeteries really highlights how a shared love of a game can become a lasting part of someone’s story.

A Brief History of Bingo

Bingo’s roots stretch back several centuries. The game can be traced all the way back to 16th-century Italy, where a lottery-style game called Il Gioco del Lotto d’Italia became popular with the public.1 From there, variations of the game spread across Europe, including a version played in France in the 1700s that used cards with numbered grids, something that will feel very familiar to modern bingo players.¹

The modern game of bingo took shape in the United States in the early 20th century. Before it was called bingo, it was known as “beano,” a carnival game where players used dried beans to mark numbers on cards and shouted “Beano!” when they won.¹ In 1929, New York toy salesman Edwin S. Lowe encountered the game at a carnival near Atlanta, Georgia, and immediately saw its potential.¹

According to popular accounts, the name changed after Lowe overheard a player accidentally yell “Bingo!” instead, and the new name stuck.¹

Lowe helped turn bingo into the organized game we recognize today. He hired Columbia University mathematician Carl Leffler to create thousands of unique bingo card combinations, reducing the chances of ties and repeated number patterns.¹ By 1930, Leffler had designed 6,000 different cards.¹ Lowe’s company went on to produce bingo cards nationwide, helping the game spread through churches, community halls, and social clubs.²

Bingo quickly became known not just as a game of chance, but as a social activity rooted in routine, friendship, and shared time together.²

As bingo grew into a familiar part of everyday life, its also found its way into cemetery symbolism.

Bingo cards are a relatively modern gravestone symbol, especially when compared to traditional imagery like crosses, flowers, or angels. Their appearance reflects a broader shift in cemetery symbolism, where markers are becoming more personal and more closely tied to everyday life. For some visitors, a bingo card carved into stone might come as a surprise. It is not a symbol most people expect to see in a cemetery!

For those who knew the person, though, the meaning is often immediately clear. Bingo is a social game, tied to routine, friendship, and shared experiences. An engraved bingo card can represent a deep love for the game, but it can also point to a wider social circle and a sense of community. These stones quietly celebrate connection, showing that even simple joys can leave a lasting mark.

Bingo card gravestones are a reminder that memorials do not have to be solemn to be meaningful. They can reflect laughter, routine, and the small joys that shaped a life. Every time I come across one, I am reminded that cemeteries are full of stories, not just of how people died, but of how they lived.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Bingo: History of the Game | Thought Co.
  2. History and Evolution of Bingo | Longmont Bingo Alley

Cemetery Recipes: Easy Potato Rolls

Some recipes are passed down through families, tucked into old cookbooks or written on well-worn recipe cards. Others show up in much more unexpected places. When I came across this one engraved on a gravestone, it immediately caught my attention, and January felt like the perfect time to try a recipe so closely tied to warmth, comfort, and family meals.

This month’s cemetery recipe comes from the gravestone of Isabella Margaret Carlson, who passed away on January 24, 2016. Her headstone is located in Ponto Lake Cemetery in Cass County, Minnesota, where her Easy Potato Rolls recipe is engraved directly into the stone. It’s a lasting and very personal memorial, and a reminder that food can be just as meaningful a legacy as words or photographs.¹

Isabella “Ise” Margaret Shamp Carlson was born on February 6, 1947, and her obituary reflects a life centered on family and close relationships. While it doesn’t specifically mention baking, the presence of this recipe on her gravestone makes me think that cooking played an important role in her daily life. As a mother, and grandmother, it’s easy to imagine her kitchen as a place where people gathered, food was shared, and traditions were quietly passed along.¹

I think the choice to memorialize Ise with a recipe means that these potato rolls were especially well-loved. Including them on her gravestone allows visitors to take something tangible with them, a recipe meant to be tried, shared, and enjoyed, rather than simply read.

Ise’s Find a Grave memorial also notes that she preferred using Yukon potatoes when making these rolls, a small detail that adds to the feeling of baking alongside her.²

Here is the recipe, as engraved on the headstone:

Easy Potato Rolls

  • 2 packages (¼ oz. each) active dry yeast
  • 1 ½ cups warm water (110 to 115 degrees), divided
  • ⅔ cup sugar
  • ⅔ cup shortening
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 cup mashed potatoes
  • 2 ½ teaspoons salt
  • 6 to 6 ½ cups all-purpose flour

Directions:

In a small bowl, dissolve yeast in ⅔ cup warm water. In a large bowl, cream sugar and shortening until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, potatoes, salt, yeast mixture, remaining water and 2 cups flour. Beat until smooth.

Add enough remaining flour to form a soft dough ball. Shape into a ball; do not knead. Place in a greased bowl; turning once to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.

Punch dough down; divide into thirds. Shape each portion into 15 balls and arrange in three greased 9-inch round baking pans. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes. Bake at 375 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from the pans to cool on a wire rack.

Yield: 45 servings

In Loving Memory: Mother; Grandmother; Sister; Friend.

In the Kitchen

This is my first-ever attempt at making bread. The instructions are so detailed on this recipe, that it gave me confidence that I could pull it off, even with no experience.

The ingredients were easy to pull together. I used russet potatoes that I had left over from a previous meal, instead of Yukon potatoes. I’ll admit I was feeling a little lazy and left the skins on when I mashed them. Thankfully, it didn’t affect the taste at all. You can see the little flecks of potato skin throughout the rolls, but I think it adds character.

There are quite a few steps for this recipe, but I found the time between steps helpful, to pause and think about the process and where this recipe comes from. It did also give me some time to worry over it too.

I wasn’t sure about the first rise, as the dough didn’t seem to puff up as much as I expected. After I separated the dough into sections and rolled them into balls, I let them rest for another 30 minutes. This time they did rise a lot more nicely. Trust the process, right?

Because of that slower first rise, I didn’t end up with the full 45 rolls mentioned on the gravestone. I finished with 34 rolls, which is still a pretty good batch.

I baked the rolls for 20 minutes, checked on them, and then rotated the pans on the top rack because the one at the back was getting a little too brown. After another five minutes in the oven, they came out perfectly golden and smelled amazing. The rolls were soft, fluffy, and I think would be a great addition to pretty much any meal. I was happy to share them with my mom and my fiancé, which felt very fitting for a recipe so rooted in family.

Trying Ise’s Easy Potato Rolls felt like more than just baking bread. It felt like taking part in a story that began long before I ever read her name on a gravestone. Recipes like this turn cemeteries into places of connection, not just remembrance, and remind us that legacy can live on through the simplest things, like a shared meal or a well-loved family recipe. I’m grateful for the chance to carry these stories forward, one bake at a time.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Isabella Carlson (Obituary) | Brenny Family Funeral Chapel
  2. Isabella Margaret “Ise” Shamp Carlson | Find a Grave

Thoughts on Photographing Cemeteries Respectfully

Cemeteries are places of reflection, history, and, for some, a source of artistic inspiration. After nearly two decades of photographing cemeteries, I often find myself thinking about how to balance documenting these spaces with respecting the people who rest there.

Is it ever inappropriate to photograph a grave? Are there certain cemeteries or gravestones that should be off-limits? These are questions that I, and I’m sure many other cemetery photographers, often think about.

Cemeteries are undeniably beautiful. From intricate gravestones and elaborate monuments to the way nature blends with history, they offer countless opportunities to tell stories through photography. Many photographers, myself included, see this work as a form of preservation. Stone doesn’t last forever, and time can slowly erase names, symbols, and details. Sometimes, a photograph becomes the only lasting record of a gravestone.

But while photography can help preserve history, it’s just as important to remember that cemeteries are sacred places. What feels like a meaningful or artistic image to one person could feel intrusive or disrespectful to someone else.

Are Cemeteries in Ontario Public or Private Spaces?

The first step in thinking about the ethics of cemetery photography is understanding whether a cemetery is public or private. In Ontario, cemeteries are regulated by the Bereavement Authority of Ontario (BAO), which oversees the rules and standards that govern their operation. Many cemeteries, especially older ones, are municipally owned and open to the public. Even so, public access does not always mean unrestricted access. Some cemeteries do have specific rules around photography, so it’s always a good idea to check for posted signage or guidelines before starting to take photos.

Private cemeteries, which are often operated by religious groups or independent organizations, can enforce stricter rules. Some may require permission, particularly if photos will be used commercially. A few years ago, a proposed bylaw in Waterloo, Ontario, suggested restrictions on cemetery photography in city cemeteries. This sparked a debate among genealogists and historians who rely on photos for research and preservation.1

It’s also important to recognize that cemeteries carry cultural, religious, and spiritual meaning for many people. Over time, I have learned that different cultures have their own unique traditions around death and burial, and those traditions should always be respected. In some cases, photographing certain graves or monuments may be discouraged, or photography itself may be seen as inappropriate. I try to be mindful of these differences when I am visiting and photographing cemeteries, and when I am unsure, I see it as a cue to slow down or ask questions. Being aware of these differences and asking for permission when needed, goes a long way toward practising photography that feels respectful rather than intrusive.

I don’t always get it right, but I try to approach each visit with respect and a willingness to learn. For me, that respect often extends beyond my own photography and into finding ways to help others connect with these places of rest.

Photographing cemeteries isn’t just about capturing beautiful or historic images. It can also be a meaningful way to help others. I’ve been a member of Find a Grave for over 11 years, where photographers volunteer to take photos of gravestones for people who request it. For those who can’t visit a cemetery themselves, these photos can be incredibly important.

If you’ve never considered volunteering as a cemetery photographer, it can be a rewarding way to give back while helping preserve family histories. Find a Grave is a great place to start!

The gratitude I’ve received from people who’ve found photos of their ancestor’s graves through the site has been deeply meaningful. Volunteering in this way can also create a sense of community by helping others access information and preserve legacies they might not otherwise have been able to reach.

Cemetery photography is a deeply personal practice. For some, it’s all about exploring history. For others, it’s about artistic expression. The most important thing is approaching it with care and awareness. If you’re ever unsure whether a photo is appropriate, it helps to pause and imagine how you would feel if it were your loved one’s grave.

I believe in the principle of “taking nothing but pictures, leaving nothing but footprints.” For me, I think ethical cemetery photography comes down to intentions. Are you there to honour, preserve, and respect? If so, I think your work will reflect that naturally.

What do you think? Where do you draw the line between art and respect when it comes to cemetery photography?

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Waterloo says new cemetery photo bylaw won’t affect historians, family | CBC