The Wreck Tree, 2013
(Click on images to see larger)
I’ll be honest. I don’t usually
pay too much attention to those roadside shrines people set up in memory of the
friends and loved ones who were killed in accidents at those spots. They seem
such simplistic expressions of grief for people whose lives were more than the
few stuffed animals or ribbons tied around trees, signs and little white
crosses.
The other day, though, I stopped
to photograph such a roadside shrine, the first time I’ve ever done that. I did
so mainly because I was desperate to shoot something and this shrine seemed to
be the only thing in sight.
It was along a country road in
the rural southern part of our city, along the North Carolina border. This is a
low area, much of it swampy, good for raising corn, soybeans and big water
snakes. I don’t have any anxiety being around corn or soybeans. But I do shy
away from big water snakes, and the area where I saw this little scene does happen
to be home to the only kind of venomous rattlesnake we have in our immediate
coastal area.
Still, there was something that
compelled me to stop. Maybe it was the two crosses, one made from lumber, the
other from broken limbs. Or maybe it was the little plastic bicycle or the
snack bag that was nailed to the tree. Or maybe it was just that the tree into
which the young man whose life this shrine celebrates stuck out at the edge of
a little bend in the road, the kind of tree of which anyone who drives past it
regularly probably says, “Someone’s going to run into that damned tree some day
if they don’t so something about it.”
You Were Such a Good Kid, 2013
Fastened to the top of the cross
is a plastic bag containing a marker pen. I wondered initially whether the
deceased had been, or wanted to be an artist. But then I realized the pen had
been placed there by someone who hoped the deceased’s friends would leave
messages. And indeed they did. The cross was covered with heartfelt messages of
grief and hope for a better life in the hereafter.
I don’t know what the
circumstances were of this accident. I can tell from the notes written on the
wooden cross that it was a young boy named Ian and that he was a student at a
local high school. It’s not too hard to imagine a teenager driving too fast,
maybe under the influence, maybe even showing off driving in the dark with no
headlights on, cutting the curve a little too close, his tires catching in the
ditch and…well, the predictable result. Godspeed, Ian.
Can't Believe You're Gone, 2013
Evidence of a Life, 2013
I thought about doing a series of photos of these impromptu memorials along 13 on the Shore, but realized how dangerous it would be and just how long it would take.
ReplyDeleteIn the southwest some people call these descansos.
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