As I’ve said before, one of the joys of doing this work is reuniting with old friends. One of them is Todd Guenzi, whose photographic talents you’ve seen before in this blog. While we’ve kept in touch via Facebook, I hadn’t seen him in probably over 12 years. He and I were both in the singles’ group at Second-Ponce de Leon Baptist Church in Buckhead.

So last year when Todd mentioned that a friend of his had a family cemetery in Talladega, Ala., I was immediately curious. I don’t take many road trips because being a mom means staying close to home for the little guy. So it took a lot of juggling schedules over the months to finally set a date in April. Fortunately, our calendars, my son’s spring break and the weather aligned in perfect order.

Before this, I’d only driven past Talladega (known for its famous racetrack) on my way to Birmingham. But Nancy’s family has lived in the area for decades and while some of them are now scattered throughout the Southeast, it’s the place they call home. Visiting Talladega’s town square is like taking a step back in time. The Chamber of Commerce, where we stopped briefly, is housed in an old train station. Some of the original tile is still there, too.

Nancy wanted to stop at the Talladega Chamber of Commerce, which is housed in a beautifully maintained old train station.

Some years ago, Nancy and her siblings concluded that they did not want to see their beloved family cemetery slowly fade away. They also wanted to honor the memory of their parents, James Anthony and Kate Thomas Hubbard, in a special way. Nancy’s brother, Langdon, is a very successful businessman. So with him at the helm, the Hubbards hired an architect to draw up plans to restore and revive it.

The Hubbard Family Cemetery is located on the edge of Langdon’s property, which is quite vast. The view from the back of the cemetery is amazing.

Nancy’s brother owns a lot of land in Talladega. The family cemetery is on the edge of it, close to his home.

However, it’s the front of the cemetery that catches your eye first. The bell tower is stunning.

The bell tower in front of the cemetery is easily seen from the road. There’s also room to park your car.

The bell is usually rung only when someone is being buried. But Nancy gave me permission to ring it, which I did. I have to admit, the effort literally knocked me off my feet!

Although Nancy grew up in Talladega, she lived in Michigan for many years. She’s outlived her two husbands. Like me, she had only one son and it was much later in life than most mothers. I think for that reason, among many, I feel a kinship to her. She also treasures her family history, and works with her brothers and sisters to preserve it.

Nancy treasures her family’s cemetery and is very pleased with the result of the work done to preserve it.

When Langdon went about making changes to the cemetery, he made arrangements for a few family members buried at another cemetery down the road to be moved to this one. He also had the property surveyed to determine where some of the unmarked graves were. As it turned out, there were more than they first imagined. The ones that they found are marked like this.

As is the case in many old family cemeteries, there are people buried within whose identities are lost to time.

One of the first graves I saw was that of Netta Mae Hubbard. She died at the age of 21, a young wife to W.T. Roberts and a devoted mother.

The oak leaf motif on top of Netta Mae Hubbard’s grave is lovely. Oak leaves symbolize strength, endurance, eternity, hospitality, faith and virtue.

On the day we visited, a work crew was laying down a flagstone walkway to encircle the graves. Nancy told us she thought Langdon was planning on surprising the family with it when they came over for Easter. It was certainly a beautiful day to be outside under the bright blue sky.

Todd (on the left) had visited the cemetery once before with Nancy, but rain kept them from staying very long.

The graves in the Hubbard Family Cemetery range from the 1800s to only a few years ago. You can see Langdon’s home in the background.

One of the oldest graves in the cemetery belongs to John Hubbard, born in 1797. According to Ancestry.com, he was born in Elbert County, Ga., but moved to Alabama later.

John Hubbard’s grave is one of the oldest in the cemetery and has been repaired several times over the years.

After exploring the cemetery, we went over to the Hubbard’s “Home Place” that is nearby. On holidays like Christmas and Easter, the Hubbard siblings and their families gather to celebrate. A tiny house, it still stirs a lot of memories for Nancy. She remembers hard work but happy times with her family, growing up on the farm. Looking over the land, she can tell you where every barn and outbuilding used to be.

On the drive back to Newnan, where Nancy now lives, I thought about what a wonderful history her family has and how blessed she is that they’ve preserved it so well. It will live on after they’ve gone and future generations will not only keep the cemetery in the beautiful condition it is in now, but expand it for burials to come.

I also thought about how good friends like Todd can be akin to family. That keeping those ties intact is just as important. I hope as my journey continues, I can revive old friendships and make new ones, like the one I’ve formed with Nancy.

Because when we’re surrounded by family and friends, we truly do find a place to call home.

Many years ago, a song called “Short People” came out. A lot of people thought it was hilarious.

I wasn’t a fan.

I get asked how tall I am a lot. Barely five feet tall. When I was younger, I got a lot of “Wow, you’re really short!”. Wow, thanks for letting me know! I had no idea.

While being short can be a pain for a woman, it’s much harder for a guy. My father was probably no taller than five feet five, if that. I know when he was growing up, he hated it. But when he joined the Air Force, he gained confidence and didn’t let his height bother him. If he came up to you to shake your hand, you forgot he was a short man.

If I’d been able to meet Harvey Henry Tisinger, I know I would have thought the same thing.

I “found” Harvey this week at East View Cemetery in Atlanta. It’s one of my favorite places to visit because the cemetery is well maintained by a group of volunteers. The place is quite peaceful despite the fact it’s located in East Atlanta. Someone raises chickens nearby because nearly every time I visit, I hear one making a fuss.

East View Cemetery is one of my favorite haunts, including the sounds of the chickens.

I snapped a photo of Harvey’s grave as an afterthought before I left. His marker lists a Lucy Tisinger as well but there’s no death date for her. So as is my habit, I started digging. Oddly enough, there was nothing on Lucy on Ancestry.com. Nothing. But Harvey? Well, that was a different story.

UPDATE: According to Harvey’s obituary, his wife was Lucy Lee Elizabeth Paine. It’s possible she remarried after his death because she doesn’t not appear to be buried next to him.

Harvey Henry Tisinger was born in Carroll County, Ga. in the Bowdon area in 1898. He was the son of George Washington Tisinger and Ida Bibb McDaniel Tisinger. George operated Victory Farm in Bowdon, growing and selling cotton. Harvey was one of nine children. But from the start, Harvey was different.

Built in 1913, the Tisinger House is now a venue for weddings.

Due to an unknown illness in infancy, Harvey only grew to be four feet three inches tall.

Even as a child, Harvey did not let his lack of height get in his way. At 12, he sawed the handle off a hoe so he could chop cotton. At 14, some said he could pick 200 pounds of cotton a day.

Harvey went to the University of Georgia to get a degree in commerce, hoping to help out in managing the family farm. He did not sit idle. He was inducted into the Honorary Business Fraternity (later called Gamma Sigma), and was elected president of the Economic Society, secretary/treasurer of the Student Council, and secretary of the Athletic Association. He performed in the Glee and Mandolin Club, was a football and basketball cheerleader, and participated in other campus organizations.

But after graduating, Harvey had to face some harsh realities. Nobody wanted to hire a short man. He tried to find work in Atlanta but failed. He borrowed money from his siblings and went to New York City, where he met similar disappointing results.

In a profile in the Atlanta Journal, Harvey said, “Everywhere I went, the executives and personnel managers turned me down flat, without even giving me a mental examination. That was the first and last time I ever found my size as a real handicap in the business world, but I refused to let that get me down, although I was feeling pretty low when I came dragging home.”

I walked past this building of the law school at UGA almost every day when I was a student. I like knowing I shared the same sidewalks as Harvey, someone I would have liked to have called a friend. Photo courtesy of Tisinger Vance, C.P.

But Harvey didn’t give up. Having been encouraged by a West Georgia Agricultural and Mechanical School professor who saw him win a debate contest, he decided to get his law degree at UGA. In law school, Harvey continued participating in many of the same organizations he was involved in while an undergraduate. The leadership qualities he developed matured and he was selected as a “Counselor,” vice president of the Demosthenian Society, vice president of the senior class, and president of the Athletic Association.

Harvey was ready to go back to Carrollton and get to work. “A lawyer isn’t hired by a personnel manager, and the people around Carrollton where I intended to practice knew the stuff I was made of and what I could do.”

This small photo from 1926 shows Harvey in his law office in Carrollton.

Harvey practiced law in Carrollton from 1922 to 1934. He undertook the general practice of law as a sole practitioner but also served in federal bankruptcy court as a “referee in bankruptcy.” After his brother Bob joined the firm, Harvey left Carrollton for Atlanta. He assumed the position of an assistant U. S. district attorney, serving in that position from 1934 to 1958.

After he retired, it was reported that Harvey served six attorneys general, four district attorneys, and represented six federal wardens at the U. S. Penitentiary in Atlanta. During his tenure, he convicted approximately 2,500 defendants and handled almost 1,800 habeas corpus proceedings. After his retirement from the U. S. District Attorney’s office, Harvey continued to practice law in Atlanta until his death in 1959.

Bob continued at the Carrollton law firm Harvey founded until 1963. It exists today as Tisinger Vance P.C., with 13 attorneys. Three of them are Tisingers and all three attended the University of Georgia Law School. Most of the information about Harvey I got to write this blog post came from the Tisinger Vance web site.

But Harvey’s story stays with me. He made his own way in a world where short men can still be quietly discriminated against, even today. He did not let it hold him back.

His quote in the Pandora, UGA’s yearbook, says it all: “If you’ve managed to keep your own respect, you needn’t worry about that of others; you’ll have it.”

You were right, Harvey.

My father was a huge believer in higher education. That’s because he never had the opportunity to go to college himself, although being in the U.S. Air Force definitely taught him a lot. When exactly he fell in love with the University of Georgia, I don’t now. But I think a very talented athlete named Herschel Walker had something to do with it.

Because of that, Dad made it clear his daughters were going to go to college. At UGA. And get master’s degrees.

Dad and his idol, Heisman Trophy winner Herschel Walker.

My sister only attended UGA for one quarter before transferring to Georgia State, where her boyfriend (who is now her husband) was going to college. So it fell to me to undertake the mantle of DWGUGA (Daughter Who Graduated from UGA). I received my bachelor’s in journalism in 1988 and went on to get a master’s in English literature in 1990.

While Dad clearly loved the state’s flagship university, he had a keen appreciation for other institutions of higher learning. Oglethorpe University was one of them. Whenever we were in the Lenox Mall area and had an opportunity to drive by, we did so. He always referred to it (many people do) as “The Castle” because its stadium wall looks like one, with its turrets and flags. I like to think if it hadn’t been UGA, he would have encouraged me to try Oglethorpe (if I could get a scholarship).

Although Harry Hermance had great plans for Oglethorpe’s stadium, only part of it came to fruition.

Hermance Stadium was part of a grand scheme by F.H. Woolworth executive Harry Hermance. He pledged $50,000 to build it and in October 1929, the first section was dedicated during a football game against the University of Dayton. Since that’s the town of my birth (and Dad’s), the irony is not lost on me. Unfortunately, the Crash of 1929 and ensuing Great Depression abruptly curtailed Hermance’s fortunes and the stadium was never completed.

It wasn’t until I met my husband, Chris, a 2001 Oglethorpe graduate, that I began to learn much more about its rich history. He is fiercely loyal to his alma mater and has served on a number of OU boards and committees over the years.

Established in 1835, Oglethorpe University was named after James Oglethorpe, who was a British general, Member of Parliament, philanthropist, and founder of the colony of Georgia.

But as a cemetery hopper, there’s one story about Oglethorpe that really got my attention when I first heard it.

There’s an elephant buried on campus.

In 1941, Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus pulled into downtown Atlanta. Nothing unusual there. Not until 11 of its elephants died from arsenic poisoning. Some of the old hands who worked for the circus claimed it may have happened when the circus stopped in Charlotte, N.C. near a chemical plant. Nobody knows for sure.

During that time, Oglethorpe had a fledgling medical school (it no longer exists). When faculty member Dr. John Bernard found out about the elephants’ tragic deaths, he seized on the opportunity in order for his comparative anatomy students to benefit.

The front of Lowry Hall today, now part of the Philip Weltner Library. The Oglethrope University Museum, one of my favorites, is on the top floor.

According to Oglethorpe alumnus (and adjunct lecturer) Dr. Paul Hudson, Dr. Barnard asked some of his medical students to fetch one of the elephant carcases on a flatbed truck and drive it back to the campus. Lab assistant Johnny Kelly and the students unloaded it near Lowry Hall, which was later expanded into the current Philip Weltner Library.

I can imagine the conversation that took place among those students when their professor proposed his plan.

Student 1: Hey, Dr. Barnard wants us to go pick up a dead elephant downtown.

Student 2: No way!

Student 1: Way! Wanna come with?

Student 2: Will we get extra credit?

Well, maybe not exactly like that. But close.

Over the next week, in the cool November weather, the medical students dissected the elephant. When they were done, they dug a large hole and buried the ill-fated pachyderm’s remains behind Lowry Hall. Nobody knows exactly where since no sign was ever placed there to note the occasion. It’s thought to be under where the Weltner Library now stands.

Targa the elephany emerges from the Ringling Brothers circus train in the Bronx, N.Y. This is not the elephant dissected at Oglethorpe.

I asked Chris why no memorial plaque was ever put up to honor the elephant for its sacrifice and he doesn’t know. Maybe when I next see Dr. Larry Schall, OU’s current president (and a very cool guy that I enjoy talking to), I’ll ask him.

Because while it’s never easy to talk about the Elephant in the Room, sometimes you have to.

Especially when it’s under your University.

Coincidentally, Walt Disney’s Dumbo was released in 1941.