A couple of weeks ago, my friend Chris Flook wrote a great article about the Delaware County hamlet of Macedonia as part of his “ByGone Muncie” series in The Star Press. It’d been a while since I’d visited the place, but his piece inspired me to take the familiar drive out towards the forgotten hamlet. As a teen, you see, I was present during a pivotal moment in the history of its cemetery.

Finding the flowing well in Granville one night in my twenties felt like stumbling upon a biblical miracle! As I wandered home, I noticed something else: a knoll lined with rows of jagged tombstones protruding skyward. Still in awe of the water appearing to flow from a pair of enormous fieldstones, I completely forgot about the burial ground. Later, I learned I’d spied the old Leaird Cemetery. I finally went back a few weeks ago to explore it in the light of day.

Sharp Cemetery has fallen. Perched high above Bell Creek, vandals have shattered, splattered, and buried nearly every marker there. Still, a tender reminder of humanity endures by way of Baby Rinker’s modest grave. Situated in a remote corner of the cemetery, it offers a glimpse of the care and love that once filled the godforsaken place. 

Pioneer cemeteries have always captivated me with their eerie, unsettling beauty. As a kid, I might have imagined ghosts or shadows lurking among the gravestones, but I’ve since learned the real threat to these places isn’t supernatural: it’s vandalism. Tucked away in the southern reaches of Salem Township, Sharp Cemetery knows this all too well. The burial ground has suffered from damage and defilement time and time again.

I love a good cemetery. Each marker and monument tells a story, with carvings, inscriptions, and symbols that provide a glimpse into the values of our past. Delaware County’s Gardens of Memory might not be filled with historical treasures like a hundred-year-old pioneer burial ground, but two of its features -the Tower of Hymns and the Tower of Miracles- are striking landmarks nonetheless.

Pioneer cemeteries have fascinated me since childhood. Around here, most kids’ bus rides wind through cities, suburbs, or endless cornfields. Mine did too, except it also passed right by a bygone burial ground! As we got on and off the bus, we’d catch glimpses of ancient, twisted tombstones jutting out from the woods. They stirred up stories and speculation, and I longed for more information.