A Visit to Howard Hill's Grave
Four years ago today, I and my family were in Birmingham visiting my in-laws
when the "dreaded" shopping word was mentioned. Remembering from
"Howard
Hill The Man and The Legend" that Howard was from Vincent, Ala. I quickly
suggested they go shopping while I made a trip south to Howard's hometown.
Within an hour, I was there and asking where the cemetery was.
The person at the First Baptist Church that I asked about the cemetery said Howard was a member there, which I already knew from Craig's (Ekins) book, and kindly directed me to the Vincent Public Library because they had a Howard Hill exhibit in which I might be interested. She was a kind elderly lady, the librarian, and said she'd be glad to show me the exhibit. That seemed to please her husband who happened to be there at the time and he followed us to a smallish glass case of three shelves containing many small artifacts of Hill's great career including the bow and the arrow used to kill the elephant. I was about to ask where the cemetery was when the husband mentioned that he knew Howard from the First Baptist Church and asked me if I knew what he liked about Howard. Having no clue, I dutifully responded with the obligatory "No, I don't". He said, "I like the way Howard prayed. When he prayed aloud in church, it was just like he was having a conversation with God".
I found out from the two of them that Howard was not buried in Vincent. Instead, he was buried in Ashville, Ala where Libba, his wife was also. It must have been seventy five miles to Ashville which allowed me to be certain I wouldn't have time to join the "dreaded" shopping event. So I went. And I found the sight. I sent Dick a picture of the tombstone for him to post.
Now I know that sounds a little bit morbid and the following may sound a bit strange but hear me out. While there, I remembered a post on the leatherwall a year or so before my pilgrimage by someone named Larry who did the same thing. In his post he said he also shot an arrow into the top of a large nearby cedar tree. And the moment after I snapped the picture of the gravesite, I remember the "Larry story". I looked up and there was the cedar. Walking the few steps over to it, I began searching the top of the tree and low and behold, there his arrow was. Well, I looked around and found no one. And so.......yep, I shot one of my own arrows up there by Larry's. I stood there admiring my handiwork when suddenly I saw a third arrow; then a forth. The makings of a shrine, not unlike the one in "Jeremiah Johnson", was apparent and I was glad I had my arrow up there. It's been fours years now and I don't know haw many other arrows are up there in his honor and memory but if you ever get to Ashville, Alabama...
Pete