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

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

Stone Stories: A Skyscraper in the Cemetery

There’s something about the start of a new year that makes me want to jump right in, and what better way to do that than with a stone story.

This one had been on my must-see list for a while, and last summer I finally got to see it in person on a road trip with friends. Tucked away in Aurora Cemetery in Aurora, Ontario, is one of the most unique gravestones I’ve ever come across: a miniature version of the Empire State Building.

John William “Jack” Bowser was born in 1892 in Aurora, Ontario, and went on to become a successful businessman and entrepreneur.1 After moving to New York City, Bowser made his fortune in construction, eventually becoming closely associated with one of the most famous buildings in the world, The Empire State Building.2 Dubbed “Canada’s Greatest Builder,”2 Bowser was deeply involved in the project and served as the construction superintendent, which helps explain why this iconic skyscraper would later appear in such an unexpected place.3

Despite his success in the United States, Bowser maintained strong ties to his hometown. He returned to Canada, and remained active in construction. Bowser owned and operated ABC, Aurora Building Corp. until his death, in 1956.1

A Skyscraper Among the Stones

Bowser’s gravestone is impossible to miss. Carved in the unmistakable shape of the Empire State Building, the monument rises above the surrounding stones, complete with stepped setbacks that mirror the Art Deco design of the real skyscraper.4 Standing roughly 10 feet tall, the stone serves as a tribute not only to Bowser himself, but also to his pride in being part of a project that briefly held the title of the tallest building in the world.5

It’s also a fascinating example of how personal identity and legacy can be captured in stone. Rather than traditional symbols or lengthy inscriptions, this monument tells Bowser’s story at a glance. Even if you didn’t know his name, the shape of the stone immediately sparks curiosity and invites questions.

Aurora Cemetery

Aurora Cemetery is the final resting place for many notable local figures, but Bowser’s grave is by far one of its most talked-about features. The cemetery itself is well-maintained and easy to walk, making it a worthwhile stop even beyond this one monument. That said, it’s easy to see why this gravestone has become something of a local landmark and a favourite stop for cemetery enthusiasts and curious visitors alike.

My friends and I visited during one of those truly hot summer days when the heat seems to cling to you, even when you’re standing still. Despite the temperature, the Empire State Building gravestone was impossible to miss. It towers over the surrounding stones, drawing your eye almost immediately as you approach that section of the cemetery.

We were more than happy to slow down and admire it. The monument sits beneath a small grove of trees, and the shade was very welcome after walking through the cemetery in the full sun. We lingered there for a while, taking in the details of the stone and enjoying the brief break from the heat.

John W. Bowser is laid to rest beside his wife, Adaleine McMillan Bowser, who died suddenly in an accident on September 4, 1948.2

Seeing the gravestone brought back memories of my first trip to New York City in 2010, when I saw the real Empire State Building for the first time. Standing at Bowser’s grave, it was hard not to compare the two. One is a towering steel skyscraper in the middle of a busy city, and the other is a quiet stone monument in a small-town cemetery. Even so, both have a presence that makes you stop and look up.

John W. Bowser’s Empire State Building gravestone is a perfect reminder that cemeteries are full of unexpected stories. Sometimes those stories are told through dates and names, and sometimes they rise straight out of the ground in the shape of a skyscraper.

Starting the year with a stone like this feels fitting, and it’s a good reminder to keep looking closely. You never know what kind of story might be waiting in the next cemetery.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. John W. Bowser | Wikipedia
  2. John W. Bowser, More About an Auroran Linked to the Empire State Building | Living in Aurora Blog
  3. John W. Bowser’s Empire State Building Grave | Atlas Obscura
  4. Empire State Building Tombstone In The Aurora Cemetery, John W. Bowser | Living in Aurora Blog
  5. Empire State Building brought prominence to Bowser | YorkRegion.com

2025 Year in Review: Graving Reflections

As the year winds down, I always like to slow down and think about where this past year of cemetery wandering has taken me.

This year felt especially full, not just because of how far I travelled, but because of the stories I uncovered, the connections I made, and the ideas still rattling around in my head. From long road trips with friends to shorter day trips with mom, 2025 was another reminder of why I keep visiting cemeteries.

So before we head into a new year, I wanted to take a moment to look back at a few highlights, along with some things I want to carry forward.

One thing that really stood out when I look back on this past year was just how many cemeteries I managed to visit. Even though it was a slightly quieter year overall, I still explored 84 cemeteries I’d never been to before, plus three return visits. This brings my total to 87 cemetery visits in 2025.

That number is a little lower than usual, but I’m honestly okay with that. Each visit added something new to my understanding of local history, memorial traditions, and the quiet beauty found in these spaces. It’s a good reminder that it’s not just about how many cemeteries you visit, but what you take away from them.

One trip that really stayed with me was a visit to Walkerton with my mom, where we spent time learning about the Walkerton Water Tragedy. It was heavy, emotional, and important. It reinforced for me why cemeteries and memorial spaces matter. They give us a place to remember, reflect, and sit with difficult truths.

Another memorable trip took my mom and I to Orillia to visit the OPP Headquarters. Tucked inside their museum is the final resting place of Cloud II, the first Ontario Provincial Police dog killed in the line of duty. That story has stayed with me. I haven’t quite shaped it into a full blog post yet, but it’s one I’m hoping to share in the new year.

This year also saw my friends and I take our longest road trip yet. We dared to make the six-hour drive to London, Ontario, to visit Woodland Cemetery. Known for its deer, famous graves, and beautiful tombstones, it was definitely worth the trip. We made good time getting there, stopped in for lunch at The Early Bird, and then spent a couple of hours exploring the cemetery before heading back home. Yes, another six hours in the car. We were all glad we did it, but we also vowed never do that again!

Not all of this year’s highlights happened inside cemetery gates. One of the most unexpected moments was being interviewed for a Smithsonian Magazine article about gravestone recipes, which still feels a bit surreal to write. I was also mentioned in a Better Homes & Gardens article on the same topic. Seeing such a niche corner of cemetery history reach a wider audience was incredibly validating and reminded me that these stories really do resonate.

I was also invited, once again, to write a guest post for The Haunted Walk. Working with them is always a highlight, and I love having the chance to share my love of cemeteries with their audience.

That said, the year didn’t unfold exactly the way I thought it would. I’d hoped to focus more on experience-based content, and while some of that started to take shape, there’s still a lot I want to try. Instead of seeing that as a failure, I’m choosing to see it as a road map for what comes next.

Looking ahead to 2026, I’m setting a few graving-style New Year’s resolutions!

I want to lean more into hands-on experiences like nighttime cemetery photography, tagging along on a cemetery ghost hunt, or maybe even shadowing someone who cleans gravestones to better understand preservation work. Those story-rich moments feel like a natural next step for me.

For now, though, as the snow settles in and cemetery visits pause, my focus shifts indoors. Winter is my season for research, sharing more stone stories, and finally giving my website portfolio the attention it deserves. I’ll also be spending more time contributing to Find a Grave by doing the quiet, behind-the-scenes work that helps keep those records useful and accessible.

Like most winters, I’ll also be taking a few online courses, with a focus on historic preservation (including cemeteries), as well as grief coaching and end-of-life care. It feels like the right time to explore death and remembrance from a slightly different angle.

As I look forward to the new year, I feel genuinely excited about what’s ahead. There are new ideas I want to explore, new experiences I want to say yes to, and plenty of learning to do while the cemeteries rest under the snow.

I’m incredibly grateful to everyone who reads along, shares posts, sends book recommendations, and reaches out to chat about gravestones, stories, and history.

Thank you for being part of this journey with me. I hope the new year brings you good health, curiosity, and meaningful moments. Wishing you a very happy New Year, and I’ll see you in 2026.

Thanks for reading!

Stone Stories: The Golden Girls of Prospect Cemetery

Have you ever heard of best friends being buried together?

That’s exactly what four women in Toronto chose to do. They lived in the same neighbourhood, supported one another, and made sure they’d stay side by side long after their time on earth. Their story is heartwarming, inspiring, and a little unexpected.

In the heart of Toronto’s Prospect Cemetery sits a shared gravestone marked with one simple word: Friends. The four women behind that stone, Pauline Chorna, Annie Hrynchak, Nellie Handiak and Anna Baran, might not be famous, but their story has captured hearts across Canada and beyond.

These women, friends in life and now in death, chose to be buried together as chosen family. Their decision, made decades ago, quietly reflects a lifestyle that’s now becoming more common, one that embraces shared housing and friendship as a way to age with dignity and connection.1

At a time when most people were buried with relatives, choosing to be buried with friends was unusual and incredibly meaningful, which is part of why their gravestone stands out so much today.

Thank you for being a Friend

Long before the Golden Girls TV show aired in 1985, these four women had already built full lives rooted in friendship and community. All four were immigrants from the Carpathian Mountains, part of a wave of 20th-century migration driven by difficult economic times2. Some say they may have met on the ship that brought them to Canada.2

They each married and raised families, but no matter where life took them, they stayed close. They met regularly to play cards and catch up at the Carpatho-Russian cultural centre, building a bond that lasted decades and continued beyond their lifetimes.

This kind of friendship, and now living arrangement, is part of a growing movement in Canada known as the Golden Girls model. It’s a new way for seniors to share homes instead of moving into care facilities. It helps fight loneliness and can make housing more affordable. In 2019, a bill called the Golden Girls Act was introduced in Ontario to make shared housing easier and more protected by law.3

The movement has grown beyond Toronto, too. In my hometown of Sudbury, for example, a group of women created the Golden Girls Network to help seniors learn more about shared housing. They want people to know that this way of living can offer friendship, safety, and support. It’s not just about saving money, it’s also about finding joy and community in later life.4

Prospect Cemetery

Prospect Cemetery opened in 1890 and has been part of Toronto’s landscape ever since, with peaceful paths and historic stones that reflect more than a century of stories.5

We visited on a chilly, grey day in late April 2025. My fiancé and I were staying in Toronto with friends, and they suggested we take a stroll through the cemetery. The cemetery is quite large, and many locals use it for dog walks, bike lessons and quiet strolls.

Our friends were more than happy to show us around, especially to show us the grave of the well-known Golden Girls.

We found their final resting place easily. The red granite stone sits right along the path. At the top, where a family name would usually be, is the word “Friends”, followed by the names and dates for each woman.

Pauline Chorna was the first to pass away on January 30, 1977.

Annie Hrynchak followed on February 6, 1993, at the age of 87.

Anna Baran also passed away on February 6, 1996, 3 years later, at the age of 91.

Nellie Handiak, who had purchased the cemetery plot back in 1968, was the last of the group to pass away.2 She died on June 22, 2006, at the age of 97.

Handiak’s daughter, Jeannie, honoured one of her mother’s final wishes by slipping a deck of cards into her casket.2

When Handiak first told her daughter that everything had already been arranged, even the headstone, Jeannie was taken aback. “Oh, we got that too. We’re gonna be ‘friends’”, her mother had said.2 When asked why, her answer was simple: cards. So when Jeannie placed that deck of cards in the casket, she made sure the four friends could carry on their favourite card games in the afterlife.2

Their story continues to be shared online and in local news, and their gravestone has become a small point of interest for visitors who are moved by their friendship.

So, if you ever find yourself wandering through Prospect Cemetery, take a moment to visit their grave. It might leave you thinking differently about getting older and about how powerful true friendship can be.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Who are the Golden Girls of Prospect Cemetery and why did they decide to spend eternity together? | Toronto Star
  2. Best Friends…Forever | Toronto Star (through Pressreader)
  3. Golden Girls Act to help seniors access shared housing | Registered Nurse Journal
  4. ‘Golden Girls’ concept expands to Sudbury, Northern Ontario | Sudbury Star
  5. Prospect Cemetery | Find a Grave

Cemetery Book Review: Remembrance

November feels like the right time to settle in with a book about memory, loss, and the people who shaped the world before us.

The author of Remembrance, Norman S. Track, kindly reached out and shared a PDF copy with me to review. Self-published in 2019 through Blurb, the book explores war memorials and cemeteries around the world, focusing on how we honour and remember lives shaped by conflict.

With Remembrance Day having just passed, the theme hits close to home.

Here is the book synopsis from Blurb:

“A September 1970 trip to Warsaw, unexpectedly, started me on a journey of memory and remembrance. Twenty-six years later, while walking through the six towers of the Boston New England Holocaust Memorial, I felt myself back in rural Poland traversing the terrain of Treblinka, Gross Rosen, and Auschwitz-Birkenau. Four years later, after extensive study and thought, I traveled throughout Europe visiting sites where incidents occurred, both negative and positive, during the twelve years of the Third Reich. The photographic images of that journey are published in A Voice in the Ashes (2008).

The latest stop on my journey was a visit to Ohlsdorf Cemetery, Hamburg. On 11 May 2017 I photographed a number of military cemeteries, both German and Commonwealth. On the train back to Eppendorf, I started to see these Ohlsdorf images standing together with those from the historical landscape of the Third Reich—all speaking the language of remembrance. This collection of images is a first attempt to explore this concept.”

This is a beautiful book. The photos have a quiet strength to them and carry a lot of emotion. Every image is paired with text that weaves historical detail with the author’s personal experiences at these sites, giving you both facts and feelings. It feels like you’re learning about the past while also witnessing how it lives on in memory.

The layout is clean and simple, giving the photos room to speak for themselves. I love photo books that give the images room to breathe, and Remembrance does that really well. There is a strong balance of context, reflection, and personal connection that brings the sites and the author’s journey together.

If you enjoy cemetery photography, memorials, military history, or books that encourage you to slow down and think, this is a lovely choice. It’s a book meant to be experienced, and not skimmed. It carries a great deal of respect for the places it documents.

I’m always grateful to find cemetery-related books that explore memory with care, and this one does so in a sincere and thoughtful way.

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!