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 This
summer I hunted in the woods of Kentucky. Kith and kin of a
Casey County Kentuckian named General Washington Luttrell made
up the “hunting party” and we looked for a home-made grave
marker —”throwd into the woods” years earlier, when it was
replaced by a “regular” stone.
In
1939 I had visited “Wash” Luttrell in his bachelor cabin. We
talked Bible, traded rifles, and inspected a ginseng and golden
seal garden. But gentle “Wash” spoke little of himself. A
neighbor told this touching story.
When
Washington’s unmarried sister had died in 1921, there was no
money to buy a head stone for her grave. So “Wash” canvassed
the country for zinc fruit-jar lids, melted them down, and beat
the metal into plates which he used to weatherproof a heavy oak
timber. Somehow, he lettered the marker and set it up. Now, 35
years later, I sought this symbol of family devotion.
Some
“spit and whittlers” directed me to a man I had once known;
and after we had howdied and recollected for quite a spell he
took me to the country cemetery. We found Washington’s grave,
and that of his mother and sister; but no home-made zinc marker.
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We
visited some Luttrell kin who lived near by, and found what
first seemed a strange reluctance to discuss the marker. “Folk
came to see and talk about it,” she said. “They talked about
that bonnet on it.” And then I realized that these very proud
people were ashamed of what, to them was something less than the
“regular” stone due their family name.
My
desire to search the woods was discouraged—“it’s probably
covered with dirt and growd over”— until my sincere
appreciation of “Wash” Luttrell’s deed became apparent.
Then we all slowly, hesitatingly walked into the heavy
undergrowth. ”It’s not that way,” the lady corrected; so
we held back, and she led us to our goal.
A
foot piece was on the surface, but we had to dig the head marker
out of the red clay. It was almost like.. perhaps it was a
resurrection of understanding for the tender heart of a
once-lonely man. Cleansed and brought to the sunlight, there lay
“Wash” Luttrell’s work of love. We straightened the “bonnet”
(a zinc hood above the lettering) and chalked the raised words
for a better picture. And then, we carried the markers back into
the woods and leaned them against a tree.
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