O'Brien Cemetery

When I was back in Ohio recently, my dad asked if I'd like to go see a cemetery that he'd "been driving by for 30 years and never stopped to check out."Of course I said yes. O'Brien Cemetery is less than five miles from the house where I grew up, but I'd never heard of it before. I wasn't as diligent at seeking out cemeteries (or exploring in general) then as I am now, but my recent trip back made me realize just how little I actually know about the place where I spent the first 27 years of my life.

Fortunately, at least one Charitan has been paying attention, and it felt right that my dad and I got to see the cemetery together. The only thing my dad had seen was the tiny sign ("Get your camera ready," he said) at the end of a long driveway that disappeared into woods. We drove down the gravel road not really knowing what to expect, but it felt like the way a horror movie might start, so we were optimistic.

The O'Brien cemetery was established in the 1880s, however burials took place on the site as early as 1806. The area, on the west side of Hudson Drive in Hudson, Ohio, was once called "Little Ireland," and the cemetery residents are primarily of Irish descent. There is a map of plots and names, including a lot of O'Briens, McCauleys, McKenzies and Galloways, although the plaque acknowledges that since a lot of the records have been lost, "there are definitely errors in this listing."

The cemetery is very small with only about 175 residents. It's definitely one of the smallest cemeteries I've ever explored, second only to the Second Cemetery of the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue, which is the smallest cemetery here in the city. Some of the stones are broken, some are in near-perfect condition, and others are adorned with fake flowers that probably seem like a good idea (they never die!) but somehow look extra creepy when they're tattered, sun-bleached and covered in spider webs.

At the entrance to the cemetery is a carved wooden monk, holding a tray on which visitors had left various offerings. Some of them made sense (coins), some were obviously just hastily taken from cars (the Little Trees air freshener, a salt packet) and others just made me laugh (a fossil collection diagram). I wasn't prepared, but I still felt as if I should leave something. I defaulted to the second category, hastily grabbed my Dinosaur Land wristband and offered it to the cemetery gods as a thank you for leading us to such a wonderful spot.