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Kay Hosmer, a
cousin whom I met for the first time in June, 2001,
has been one of the biggest supporters of the
Hunter Cemetery Restoration Project. She has
organized fund raisers for our Fence
Project,
and is the number one "Hustler" for the Friends of
Hunter raffle held during our biennial work
weekends.
I
Never Met A Stranger
by
Kay
"The Hustler" Hosmer
 "I Never Met A Stranger"
is a short story about a family reunion, held in
June 2001 in Bureau County, Illinois. It was
written by Kay Hosmer, a cousin from California,
who attended the reunion. Kay and her husband
Richard came to Illinois for a reunion of the
Descendants of Louis DeMaranville.......most of
whom she had never met. It is her experiences, and
memories of that trip, I share here with you today.
I hope you will enjoy her story as much as I
have.
The weather was
warm in Sacramento as I stood in the departure line
of the airport. I overheard a couple of
businessmen's phone calls, both of them were
stressing over more rainy weather predicted in
Chicago. I thought to myself, "Rain? How could it
rain? I've had this trip planned for six months. It
is going to be wonderful weather."
Feeling like a couple of novice safari
hunters, my husband and I were headed for unknown
lands. We weren't headed for anywhere exotic, just
to the rolling foothills of ankle high corn, a
small place called Hunter Cemetery.
In the last century, this one-half plus
acre cemetery, was almost totally ruined by neglect
and abandonment. What was left standing was a sad
reminder of a long ago era of farmers who had
traveled to this new land to make a loving new
home. They were dealt hardships from the start, but
most of them raised their children, met other
families, married, and died. That was how the
Hunter Cemetery came into existence.
Wilbur J. Harris was buried in July 1848,
on property owned by Asahel Albee in the Hunter
neighborhood.. Thirteen members of the Hunter
family fought the cold bitter winds, accidents, and
diseases in order to sustain their lives in this
new land.
The small cemetery with tombstones
stating the age as just days, for some of the
little headstones, echoed the tremendous hardships
of the children. Some luckier children lay in
family plots, mostly, with no markings. Oftentimes,
people, money poor, would slip into a cemetery at
night and bury the little ones in the pathways, or
alongside a family plot. A quiet prayer would be
all the celebration of life the little child would
receive. At least they were safely at rest.
Our country grew and with that growth
came changes and the lifestyle of our people in
this country changed too. The Hunters moved away
and the cemetery was neglected and left abandoned.
In May of 2000, Mikki and Jim Judge, on
her quest for her relatives, located the small
cemetery. After the proper permission was obtained,
they started reclaiming the proper boundary lines
of the cemetery. The present owners, Alan and Pat
Read, were very willing to allow them to work every
weekend to claim back some of the land. But now,
the Judge's were exhausted.
I met the Judge's on line through another
cousin in the genealogical society Internet lines.
In their e-mails and online, the Judges' were so
enthusiastic, and so dedicated to the cemetery's
restoration that it was contagious.
Family records state that, on February
14, 1904, Elisha P. DeMaranville, was placed to
rest next to his sister, Phebe Edminster, somewhere
amongst the Edminster plot on the Northern side of
the cemetery. Both siblings died on the same day,
but not of the same complications. There are so
many stories yet undiscovered in this tiny
cemetery. Even with such a short visit, space is
prohibitive to tell all I have learned.
I am a DeMaranville descendent. My great
grandmother's family links to Resolved White, the
'child of the
Mayflower'. Recently we
had become better acquainted with other "cousins"
also with the Resolved family connection on the
Internet. They too were seeking their roots. This
is when we heard of the plight of Jim & Mikki
Judge.
Hunter Cemetery, May,
2000
Now, Hunter Cemetery was our destination.
Our goal was to, along with others coming from all
parts of the country such as Texas, Connecticut,
Idaho, Utah, Kansas, and other states, assist the
Judge's. We were all volunteers and would clear
brush and trees, which masked the entire cemetery.
We would work two days, form a committee to assist
the cemetery and have a small family reunion on the
third day.
***************
Brett and Judy
Davis-Downey
We were welcomed at the airport by a
close cousin, Judy Davis Downey, who has Cajun
roots. Judy and her husband Brett work in the stock
market of Chicago and my background is a variety of
skills, which majored in marine mammal rescue. My
husband is a retired engineer. We were the most
unlikely candidates for grave scraping to come
along in a long time. She met us with shovels,
gloves, tape, hoes and everything her gardener
wouldn't need over the weekend. There was just
enough room for the three of us in her
A.T.V.
We drove in rain free weather, for three
hours directly to Bureau, Illinois, and a small
hunting lodge aptly named the Ranch House. I was to
find it to be a very friendly fifteen room lodge
with lots of antiques and prices to discourage your
buying them.
L. to R., Sitting - Kay
Hosmer, CA; Jim & Mikki Judge, IA;
Ron Moranville, TX; Billy DeMaranville, MO
Standing - Judy Davis-Downey, IL; Alice Clark,
KS;
absent -- Robert Maranville, KY
I left hubby with the wives of other
trustees in the bar and went directly to the
meeting room. I was anxious to meet the first group
of "new cousins". Our first night's meeting
produced a plan the group had set up on our
computers while at home or in our spare time. The
trustees consisted of a registered nurse,
housewife, a retired Boy Scout executive, a factory
worker, retirees and working people who had one
goal in mind. Prior to the trip, we had appointed a
Director, Historian, Chairperson and Secretary.
Now, we even procured a cook for the Sunday feast.
I was appointed "The Hustler" in charge of the
raffle. I appointed my husband as soon as I
returned to our hotel room, as my assistant.
I quickly found Room # 4, and my husband
fast asleep atop the covers. Never stopping to
unpack, I surveyed my 50's motif room and thought
it looked wonderful. I went to bed, in the humid
heat of late night. We had been gone from my home
for more than 19 hours and I was hot, tired and I
slept restlessly. I couldn't blame my husband for
snoring. The next morning I noticed we had an air
conditioner - I questioned my husband, why he
didn't he turn it on, he explained, "It made too
much noise to sleep next to."
I awoke early and it dawned on me that I
was 2000 miles away from familiar territory. I knew
two other people in the entire state. The committee
had reminded me a week ago that I had actually
volunteered for this job last December??? I wanted
to remind them of the word, Alzheimer's but I
didn't think it would float. I had arrived at the
lodge with a monstrous box and luggage that the
Airlines had red labeled, "HEAVY." How else could I
get all the raffle gifts to the picnic?
The "Big
Surprise"!
I was overwhelmed when I saw the gifts
distant cousins had brought with them for the
raffle. One item, I highlighted as the "Big
Surprise". A beautiful hand made fragrant cedar
chest. It was a prize that any family would
treasure the rest of their lives and far into other
generations. Cousin, Al Arrasmith, was the
carpenter who cut his trees of cedar, planed the
wood and made the fabulous boxes. He would later be
dubbed "Chainsaw Al."
Breakfast was a welcoming for many people
who had never met one another. After a quick
Continental breakfast, we arranged car pools to the
farm where the cemetery was located.
Due to heavy rains the prior week, we
were told the owner had informed Jim Judge that the
road to the cemetery was soaked and not drivable.
We shifted to Plan "B", to walk, the quarter of a
mile. The owner did offer, if the rain stopped, to
check that morning and see if we could even walk
in. We all had our fingers crossed and our white
tennis shoes begged for dry roads.
The morning was beautiful as we drove
through small towns. It had been dark on our
arrival, so we saw for the first time the many
brick and wooden homes dotted spaciously throughout
the countryside. Nowhere in California was there so
much green and so many gentle hills. Before I knew,
we had pulled upon the side of the road at a
farmhouse. Pat Read, was waiting for us with a big
smile of welcome. Pat and husband, Alan, are the
owners of the land where the Hunter Cemetery is
located. Read had checked the road, and if careful,
we could drive in. What a nice couple I thought.
They expressed amazement at how dry the road became
over night. We joked and reassured him of higher
powers at work. We had planned this trip for too
long not to have dry roads.
At first, I thought the cars were headed
for the Reads' lawn. I saw this beautiful fifteen
feet, plus, strip of lawn ahead, traversing
cornrows. Throughout the ride I felt like I was in
OZ and traveling to the Emerald City on a green
carpet. It was such a wonderful feeling of
adventure. But it was short lived.
The Road to Hunter
Cemetery
With cars parked on the hillside, we
loaded the tools from our gardens, and walked the
last few feet into the cemetery.
***************
I had seen photos of the beginning of the
Judge's work and the photos of the ruined
tombstones. But now it was real. Lying at my feet
was fragments of a beautiful stone. The names were
no longer readable, because of pieces lying in many
parts of the cemetery. Some buried, some drug from
one side to the other. Some larger stones had been
returned from fencepost sites and roadsides where
the prior owner found time to use them as support
stones. We silently walked the area and took in the
magnitude of the desecration.
Ardis removes protective
coverings from the stones.
Dave Baron, the "King of
the Weed Whackers"
We all pitched in and attempted our
prescribed jobs. Some laid out grid plots to start
the job of identifying areas for research or
repair. Volunteers went around trying to verify the
sparse records we had. The Judges had already done
a listing of what they felt the hundred-plus year
old stones had on them. Some stones were very hard
to read, some were still partially buried. The
stones had plastic sack protectors to prevent
chemical erosion and these had to be removed. By
now, everyone was hard at work. The noise of gas
engines pierced the air as the saws cut and the
weed eaters uncovered soil untouched for decades.
Before noon we had a water witcher visit;
he spoke to us on how to locate buried headstones.
We were ready for anything or any method that would
locate new stones. Neighbors stopped, introduced
themselves & wished us luck.
 
"Chainsaw Al" and Bob HaysHeadstone of Nehemiah and
Phebe S.
(Paris) DeMaranville
Before we knew it, the day was done and
the area was clear. Al Arrasmith had attacked the
trees in such fervor that he had been dubbed
"Chainsaw Al". The thick nettle was cut and hauled
to the sides. A handsome young farmer donated
another day to hauling away. He had heard of the
Judges and just appeared one spring weekend. He
also promised to bring all his family to one of the
dinners. He made good on that too.
Break Time!
It was a wonderful feeling to sit back at
lunchtime, eat a bologna sandwich, drink a slightly
warm soda and see what great progress we had made.
We had been complete strangers the day before. Now
we were family. I couldn't remember when a bologna
sandwich tasted so good. I really couldn't remember
the last time I had one either. Two things I
reminded myself to ponder on later.
***************
Back to the lodge and dinner at a nice
place in Kewanee, called Andris Waunee Farms
Restaurant. A large buffet and meeting room awaited
our arrival. I took the pose of "The Hustler" again
and cleaned as many pockets as proper manners would
allow.
The new relatives enjoyed a photo
opportunity and were seduced with our table
displaying Sunday's raffle prizes. I relieved my
guilt by promising only lucky raffle tickets. Some
of the new relatives learned that if I saw money,
it was a goner. I showed no mercy. We arrived back
at the lodge to find another long meeting awaiting
us. Our spouses had been well fed, so a late
meeting was in order again for the Trustees. Wow,
what a wonderful vacation together!
 
Alice thinks this
reunion is just "Ducky"!Richard lays a
grid to mark the areas to probe.
Morning came way too soon. My husband's
legs ached from all his bending for making grid
markings. I was just sore all over with a sizable
cut to my ankle. But we marched to our Continental
breakfast of cold rolls, juice and hot coffee, and
another day at the cemetery. We tried to smile over
the aches and pains. We saw the same pain in others
and no one offered a foot race to the vans, so we
all suffered in silent dedication. It was another
wonderful day but turned a little humid.
We were experts at knowing what to do and
expect, so work commenced rapidly that second day.
We all had our goals to finish. Apprentice stone
repairers raised tombstones weighing over 300
pounds. Cousins assisted by their watching for
signs of stress on the support boards or other
signs of danger. Others worked on identification;
grids, cleaning and clarification of stones, and
some greeted the locals who came by to see the
progression.
Contestants in a Beauty
Contest....We Were NOT!
With tremendous smiles, the Reads came by
and stated they were so amazed how the cemetery was
developing. While they visited, a plane buzzed the
cemetery and we were told it was the elder Read,
dropping by to wish us good luck. We then heard
Mrs. Read's father, Henry Balensiefen, had guided
the Judges to his son-in-law's farm. While
searching for Hunter Cemetery, the Judge's had
happened to stop the elder Balensiefen, along side
a country road. They inquired whether he knew of
any deserted cemetery in the area. The rest was now
history. It was to be.
The day ended with a dinner at the Ranch
House in Bureau, and a general meeting which new
officers and trustees were appointed. The officers
gave an annual report and explained how the next
year would be crucial in getting the cemetery
restored and hopefully obtain some state money for
maintenance. More money was collected from the new
attendees who had no idea who I was until I told
them they needed to buy raffle tickets. How could
they refuse a cousin? Jokes were exchanged over the
numerous spellings of DeMaranville and all took the
jokes well. However, no one chose to change his or
her name. My family spells it correctly.
History being made as
Ron announces
the formation of the Hunter Cemetery
Association.
***************
Sunday came with a start. Everyone
overslept but the Judge's, and Chainsaw Al. We all
gathered after breakfast and traveled to the
Hennepin Canal Park. The area was serene and
peaceful, however the humidity was rising and the
sun was pretty warm. The park offered us spacious
and almost totally private accommodations. If this
had been California on a Sunday, it would have been
chock full by now. It was another great day!
Chainsaw Al was putting the finishing
touches on the barbequed ribs and the aroma from a
row of food was wafting in the wind. The raffle
gifts were easy to display on the large tables
offered. And our gathering began. New cousins
arrived, and we acquainted all who didn't know one
another. Some photos of the prior days were already
being shared due to modern technology. Most of us
had our personal stories of how the cemetery was
coming along, and eagerly shared them with the
newcomers. The friendliness of the group was again,
wonderfully refreshing.
After a fruitful raffle drawing the
reunion was starting to slow down it's pace. Just
about that time, a man approached from the tree
side of the picnic area. He was a little stooped
and carrying a small bag of items hanging from a
stick, approaching our picnic area. The wind was in
our favor so there was no offensive odor but this
person had obviously traveled a long way alone.
"Howdy, yawl', Howdy, Howdy, Howdy! I hears they be
a ree-Union fer' da' DEEMAAranville's cher", and
I's come to see yawl! Sorry I's a tad late, but it
took me 3 freights and two layers of clothes to get
cheer, and dat aint' bad!" Now, who's this little
lady cher??????" The figure ran to a pert cousin
who obviously was dumbfounded and searching for the
proper way out of the situation. And most of our
feet were frozen to the cement pad with surprise.
Realizing the shock he had created, he stood up
with great pride and yelled, "Don't ya wrekinize
the Coon Holler, Tennessee, DEEMAAranville's? I's
so proud to be cher, fer' my tyre family! My name
is Rufus T., but most of yuns', call me "Bubba"!"
Rufus T. DeMeranville,
alias "Bubba"
aka Jim Judge!
By now, the trustees were crying with
laughter. We couldn't help share our knowledge with
newbie relatives that The
Gene Pool Disaster had
just arrived! We were visited by, "the" guest no
one ever wants to see at a family reunion. However,
we knew "Bubba" was none other than Jim Judge in
disguise. Antics started and the photo opportunity
with Bubba began. Reluctantly, sometimes, due to
the side eyed, crooked & missing toothed grin,
one tolerated Bubba's armpit snuggle.
***************
Left to Right:
Row l: Mikki & Jim Judge,
IA; Jim Moranville, TX; Franco Masciandaro, CT;
Dave Baron, MI; Jan & Ron Moranville, TX; Kay
Hosmer, CA.
Row 2: Christy Moranville, TX;
Scott & Laurie Jo Masciandaro, CT; Brandi
Moranville, TX; Marjorie Hughes, IL; Shirley
Drehman, IL; Ardis Moranville, UT; Lisa Barker, UT;
Kendall DeMaranville, IL.
Row 3: Walter & Jane
DeMaranville, IL; Jimmy & Dawn Hodgson, IL;
Phyllisus DeMaranville, MO; Vera & Al
Arrasmith, MO.
Row 4: Connie DeMaranville, IL;
Karen Sue Surber, MO; Leah M. Hays, ID; Alpha Jo
Runge, CA; Gaye E. Baron, MI; Linda Wallace, IL;
Mable Andris, IL.
Row 5: Standing: Billy G.
DeMaranville, MO; Bob Hays, ID; Yvonne &
Willard Sammons, IL; Barry & Sharelle
Moranville, IA; Richard Hosmer, CA; Judith &
Brett Downey, IL; Andy Gale, IL; Janet Meeks, IL;
Alice Clark, KS; Stella Standish, KS.
***************
I had now met over 50 new blood cousins
plus their spouses. I truly felt they were my best
friends. The past three days were so dear to me and
we shared such a fragile bond of caring that from
the very start, we all knew we had a mission of
simple similarities. We had to finish the
restoration of the Hunter Cemetery. And the job had
just begun.
Hunter Cemetery at rest
again.
We will return for a biennial meeting in
2003, and we have now created........
The Hunter Cemetery
Association, which
was established to restore and maintain the Hunter
Cemetery, and will operate as a not for profit
cemetery association within the meaning of section
501c of the Internal Revenue Code.
The Hunter Cemetery
Restoration Trust, a
permanent trust fund established exclusively for
the perpetual care and maintenance of the cemetery
including the abandoned and/or unmarked graves in
the cemetery.
The residences of our trustees span the
United States and hopefully will inspire all others
who know of their dedication and deep conviction.
It is a kind and considerate, heartfelt person who
goes the extra mile for restoration of our
historical sites. I can't think of any other way of
ending this story than quoting William Gladstone:
"Show me the manner in which a nation
cares for it's dead, and I will measure with
mathematical exactness the tender mercies of its
people, their respect for the laws of the land and
their loyalty to high ideals."
The future generation
is holding up the Past.
If you have
questions or would like more information on how you
can volunteer, make a contribution, or become a
member of the Hunter Cemetery
Association,
use the links below.
The Hunter
Cemetery Association
P O Box
38
Buffalo, IA, USA
52728-0038
563-381-3238
Please sign our
Guestbook
Thank you for visiting our
website....please come back often.
Updated October
2004
Report broken links to Webmaster, Mikki
Judge
©2004
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