A Martyr's Grave in Summer

This past winter I blipped this grave, which houses the earthly remains of Ida C. Craddock (1857-1902), a martyr to free speech & Freethought who hailed from my city. It's the reddish obelisk in the foreground. I visit the grave often, as it's near my place. By the standards of most people (especially today), Ida was fairly crazy, but never in such a way that prevented her from earning her living; never a danger to anyone. She was a spiritualist, as were a great many very fine minds during the 19th century. If her beliefs turned out to be true after her death, she may have started a family in the afterlife, and her great-grandchildren may be available for comment with the assistance of a medium.

I simply love Ida Craddock because there is no end to the stories from her life, one more interesting than the next, and some of which I've researched myself, making new connections. Who can fail to love someone who, in Heaven of the Bible (1897), wrote,

"I venture to set down a few of the industries and industrial workers which the Bible glimpses of life in Heaven suggest will be or have been at some time necessary: Stone-cutters and polishers... Harp-makers. Trumpet-makers... Gardeners to attend the plants in Paradise... Weapons for Michael and his angels and for 'the armies of Heaven' generally... Charioteer... Tooth-brushes to be used after each luncheon from the tree of life."

No one has gathered all of Ida's gems together, though a scholar of religion produced a fine volume on her last year from that perspective. She's scattered all over the internet. Check her out some time. I'll be stopping at her grave and telling others of her sacrifices, as is my habit.

In Ida's suicide note, she wrote, "I prefer to die comfortably and peacefully, in my own little bed in my own room, instead of on a prison cot."