I haven't made a regular habit of it, but I have wandered around graveyards before. The old ones are especially interesting and some of the old tombstones are really fascinating. Why is the woman in the story embarassed to tell people about her hobby? I don't get how what she does is any different from visiting old battlefields or other historic sites.

I don't think it's the "visiting cemeteries" part that can be construed as creepy. I mean, they're not doing it in a goth, grave-sex kind of way (at least I hope not!!!).

I think it has more to do with the fact that they're so intent on cataloging or visiting the graves of those whom they have no relations/attachment to whatsoever, which some might view as creepy in the sense of, "Why are you gawking at this random stranger's grave?". Also understandable is why you would possibly want a photograph or a one-time visit to a celebrity's final resting place, but I think that visiting over and over again when you have no direct connection with said celebrity(-ies) can also be seen as bordering on obsession or psychosis? This is just my take on it, not what I feel to be the case for EVERY person who does this!

Personally, I like to visit cemeteries sometimes as well, but only for photographic reasons (I love taking photos of elaborate tombs, such as those found in Pere Lachaise in Paris or the New Orleans cemeteries because I find cemetery art to be poignantly beautiful). I do make it a point to be super respectful and not walk on/over anyone's grave or tombstone/monument, nor do I touch anything. In that sense, I do find those who make tombstone rubbings a bit "creepy" (for lack of a better word) and disrespectful.

For an interesting tour of Woodlawn Cemetery go to www.MuseumPlanet.com and click on NY. Woodlawn is on the list of sites to the left. Quite a facinating place Woodlawn is....

I agree, there really isn't anything creepy about just visiting graveyards. I live in a very historic city and people do it all the time. I've done it a few times and don't find it that interesting personally, but I could see why people do. When you look at a gravestone you get the starting and ending point of a person's life, and a few words that someone thought summed them up. You get to fill in the blanks in your mind.

I'm not a "graver", but I do find graveyards weirdly fascinating. I find myself making up mini-stories e.g. "He died in 1943, wonder if that was the war, his wife lived until 1980, how lonely for her." It's also sobering to see how many old gravestones are for children and realise how far modern medicine has come.

I'm in the same boat as Sorcha. Ever since I was little, my mom found cemeteries interesting in the same way--wondering about people's lives based on the limited information on the headstones. After dropping off flowers at my grandparents' resting spot, or while on family trips in Boston or New Orleans where there are some very cool old cemeteries, she and I would wander around and find the most unique and interesting headstones. It's certainly not a "hobby" of mine, but it sounds like the woman highlighted in this story simply has a healthy way to spend her Saturdays. The woman who has catalogued 83,000 tombstones, however, has taken it a bit further than "hobby" :)

I have to wonder if we feel this way because of our fear of death in this culture. Obivously having picnics or doing other things people have mentioned is not right. But being so seperated from death that we fear going into a place because of dead people I have to think is kinda weird too.

Graves of historical or genealogical interest are one thing. I've looked at those myself. They tell stories of mine disasters or epidemics or ordinary family histories.

But when it comes to more recent graves- yes, it is creepy and intrusive. Back off, gravers. Show some respect for the families of these people.

I read the original article, went to the find a grave site, and typed the name Ian Muldoon into the search engine. I didn't really expect a result. But there it is, with a little cartoon tombstone next to it. Cute, I guess, to someone. His name, his birthday. The date he died. I should not click on this link, but I do. Yes, there is a picture of my son's headstone, and one of the gates to the cemetery where he is buried. His picture is on his headstone- he is beauiful and smiling. He has a deep dimple in his right cheek. His eyes are the color of coffee.I see that he is number 24013646.

I do not know the person who posted this. Ian is one of 17,313 pieces of "famhstrylvr's" collection, like an insect pinned to the pages of someone's specimen album. I wonder if she does indeed "lv" this piece of my fmly hstry. I do not. It is the simple story of an ordinary extraordinary boy, run down by a drunk driver. It is the story of a family wounded by grief, the story of a mother who hurts every single day of her life.

These pictures are not hers. This piece of earth is not hers. It is a place where I go on the (too many) days when I need to cry, to touch my fingers to his name in stone, because I need some sort- any sort of connection.

The idea of a stranger standing in this private place, photographing this without knowledge, wihout consideration for his family, made me sick. I cried for two hours. My child. My grief. He is more than a picture in a collection.

Yes, it is morbid and intrusive and insensitive. Gravers, please confine yourself to the graves of civil war veterans, or famous politicians. Keep away from our children, our parents, our siblings. You are trespassing in grief. Collect souvenier spoons or antique postcards or ceramic frogs, if you like. These are not just names and dates in stone. They are also carved, irrevocably and painfully on human hearts.