In Search of Corydon Chamberlain

What are warm, sunny, spring afternoons made for but searching large cemetaries for dead ancestors?
Mom had been sorting some old papers from my grandmother's house in Utah. To our surprise, she discovered that my great-something grandfather was buried very near my house in San Jose, California. We decided to find the body.

We had the name and the approximate death date. We had an undated brochure from the cemetary with a hand drawn route from the main road to a circled area. We had a picture of my father's aunt standing next to a large tree near a large red grave stone with a Mc-something name on it. That wasn't the right grave. We were looking for Corydon Chamberlain.

Corydon Chamberlain was alive in the Civil War. When the South lost, he left the country for a time, returned to go to Divinity School in Louisiana and departed to California on missionary work. He was the first Methodist minister in Santa Rosa. Corydon died in San Jose around the turn of the century.

We followed the cemetary map to section Ii and started looking. After not too long of a search, we found the Mc-something gravestone near the tree in front of the road. There was no Chamberlain gravestone to be found. In fact, there were no stones for anyone who died earlier than about 1920. This seemed a bit suspicious. My father started walking the gravestones, inspecting every one for a likely candidate.

We went to the office and asked how to find a grave. The receptionist took our name and put us in line behind others who were seeking after their own ancestors. We sat and waited.
Across the waiting room, we could see into the Chapel of Roses. Mourners at this cemetary have a choice of two chapels for the service: the modern chapel and the more uniquely styled Chapel of Roses. I still can't figure out what style of architecture this is supposed to be - one part Scottish moor & one part 1960s modern. I found it ironic to watch funderal attendees standing outside on the steps, having their last drag of a cigarette before going inside to complete someone else's death.

We started wondering what was taking so long. Mom thought it was that they were setting things up to try and sell us something. I thought they were disorganized.

I sat on the couch & started knitting. Mom & I waited. Eventually, a tall blonde woman with big hair came to help us. She looked the batty blonde from Absolutely Fabulous (without the attitude) or Sissy, the funeral home manager from Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit.. I half expected her to speak with an English accent. The nice woman couldn't help us becuase she only had records back to 1957. Anything earlier than that they had to send someone back to The Vault and look at the Parchment.
(aside: San Jose is the center of Silicon Valley. Why couldn't they invest less than $1000 in a used Macintosh Classic computer with HyperCard or perhaps a FileMaker database to direct people to the right grave?)

Next came a pudgy man in a blue polyester leisure suit. He asked again about the spelling of the last name. We gave him the name again and a few alternate spellings. He was having a hard time finding the name in their records. He wanted to be sure we had the spelling right. He went to look again. He said he looked at every record starting with 'Chamb' and couldn't find Corydon Chamberlain. He was absolutely certain that we were mistaken. Our dead ancestor wasn't buried in his cemetary.

I think they lost the grave.

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	What are warm, sunny, spring afternoons made for but searching large cemetaries for dead ancestors? Mom had been sorting some old papers from my grandmother's house in Utah. To our surprise, she discovered that my great-something grandfather was buried very near my house in San Jose, California. We decided to find the body. We had the name and the approximate death date. We had an undated brochure from the cemetary with a hand drawn route from the main road to a circled area. We had a picture of my father's aunt standing next to a large tree near a large red grave stone with a Mc-something name on it. That wasn't the right grave. We were looking for Corydon Chamberlain. Corydon Chamberlain was alive in the Civil War. When the South lost, he left the country for a time, returned to go to Divinity School in Louisiana and departed to California on missionary work. He was the first Methodist minister in Santa Rosa. Corydon died in San Jose around the turn of the century. We followed the cemetary map to section Ii and started looking. After not too long of a search, we found the Mc-something gravestone near the tree in front of the road. There was no Chamberlain gravestone to be found. In fact, there were no stones for anyone who died earlier than about 1920. This seemed a bit suspicious. My father started walking the gravestones, inspecting every one for a likely candidate.
			We went to the office and asked how to find a grave. The receptionist took our name and put us in line behind others who were seeking after their own ancestors. We sat and waited. Across the waiting room, we could see into the Chapel of Roses. Mourners at this cemetary have a choice of two chapels for the service: the modern chapel and the more uniquely styled Chapel of Roses. I still can't figure out what style of architecture this is supposed to be - one part Scottish moor & one part 1960s modern. I found it ironic to watch funderal attendees standing outside on the steps, having their last drag of a cigarette before going inside to complete someone else's death. We started wondering what was taking so long. Mom thought it was that they were setting things up to try and sell us something. I thought they were disorganized.
	I sat on the couch & started knitting. Mom & I waited. Eventually, a tall blonde woman with big hair came to help us. She looked the batty blonde from Absolutely Fabulous (without the attitude) or Sissy, the funeral home manager from Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit.. I half expected her to speak with an English accent. The nice woman couldn't help us becuase she only had records back to 1957. Anything earlier than that they had to send someone back to The Vault and look at the Parchment. (aside: San Jose is the center of Silicon Valley. Why couldn't they invest less than $1000 in a used Macintosh Classic computer with HyperCard or perhaps a FileMaker database to direct people to the right grave?) Next came a pudgy man in a blue polyester leisure suit. He asked again about the spelling of the last name. We gave him the name again and a few alternate spellings. He was having a hard time finding the name in their records. He wanted to be sure we had the spelling right. He went to look again. He said he looked at every record starting with 'Chamb' and couldn't find Corydon Chamberlain. He was absolutely certain that we were mistaken. Our dead ancestor wasn't buried in his cemetary. I think they lost the grave.