The Unfettered Critic – March 2023

Long ago and far away, as we cheerfully informed friends that we’d purchased a home in distant Jacksonville, Oregon, a few surprised us by responding with a curious familiarity. “I once spent a whole day exploring the Jacksonville Cemetery,” recalled a dear friend in New Mexico. And from our tax consultant as she finished our final California paperwork, “I spent a whole day searching the Jacksonville Cemetery for a grave that I never found.” A whole day? In a cemetery? Had we missed something here?

Terry Erdmann with Dirk Siedlecki in Jacksonville Cemetery – photo by Paula Block Erdmann

As it turned out, yes, but not for long. When we moved in, we learned a number of things, beginning with “The V in Jacksonville stands for ‘Volunteer.’” And one of the groups to volunteer with was/is “The Friends of Jacksonville’s Historic Cemetery.” Who knew? Yet there it was, a silent city on a hill, presided over by the delightfully cordial Dirk and Mary Siedlecki.

Our friendship with Dirk and Mary began with raking leaves. The couple recruited a team several times each year for a fun clean-up event—which included coffee and donuts! But we really got to experience Dirk’s congeniality in 2015, after he’d heard a rumor that vandals may have set their sights on the cemetery for a Halloween night raid. “Would anyone,” he asked, “like to spend the night among the tombstones, just watching.”

How could one say “No?”

Being adventurous, your intrepid critics chose the “wee hours,” from “the stroke of midnight” until four a.m., those dark, enchanted, gloomy hours of lore. We came prepared, coffee cups in one hand, flashlights in the other. To watch. And wait.

Luckily, we didn’t encounter vandals that night, but Dirk popped in and stayed the whole time, because he just couldn’t stay away from the place he loved so dearly. The three of us talked throughout the night, and throughout the gravestones, remarking on the people who had created this town we now call home.

One could not have asked for greater company.

Sadly, we’ve learned, that Dirk, the ever-present cemetery citizen, has passed on to the next phase. We miss him now, and we’ll miss him beyond. Yet somehow we know that if ever we want once again to experience Dirk’s warm spirit, all we have to do is ramble up the hill that he cared for, and wait for darkness to fall.

He’ll be there.