I promise you’re not disturbing the dead merely by your presence. by Bess Lovejoy On a recent sunny Saturday this fall, I visited Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Queen Anne. As soon as I arrived at the cemetery, my mood lifted. The traffic noise receded, replaced by birdsong. The fall sun lit up the newly yellow chestnut trees, giving them an amber glow. Lichen and moss spangled the century-old graves. And as my eyes followed a squirrel, I noticed views of the U-District and beyond opening up atop the hill. I realized that I had found a perfect little sanctuary in the middle of the city.  To some, the idea of being here voluntarily would seem creepy or weird. Honestly, though? Don’t be like them.  Admittedly, I am a goth, but you don’t need to be a goth to enjoy wandering around the graves. Cemeteries are protected spaces that offer a respite for anyone who feels occasionally overwhelmed by the demands of 21st-century life. There is nothing to buy, nothing to manage or control, nothing to do but stroll, observe nature, and wonder over the lives of those who came before you.  Mt. Pleasant Cemetery in Queen Anne. BILLIE WINTER If the idea of visiting a graveyard for recreation seems bizarre, your great-grandparents were way more hip about it. Back in the 19th century, when public green space was more limited, spending a sunny Saturday in the cemetery wasn’t weird. In fact, some scholars argue that cemeteries were America's first public parks. In the early 1800s, when US churchyards were dangerously full, city planners came upon a creative solution that would provide both a place for the dead and a way for the living to get some fresh air. The result is what’s known as the garden cemetery movement. Cambridge, Massachusetts was the first, creating Mount Auburn Cemetery in 1831. Cities such as New York and Philadelphia followed, developing large, beautifully landscaped garden cemeteries that often predated major parks. In the 1800s, cemeteries were places for family picnics, lunching and reading, and sometimes courting couples out for a walk. Even hunting and shooting and carriage racing were once common in these places (but let’s not bring that part back; these are also places for active mourners).  Some scholars argue that cemeteries were America's first public parks. BILLIE WINTER To that end, it’s a good idea to be extra aware of your surroundings in a cemetery. Keep an eye out for funerals or people who seem to be grieving, and don’t interrupt them. Be respectful. What “respectful” means may differ a bit from person to person; merely strolling around and snapping some pics (of graves, not people) shouldn’t be a problem, as long as it’s not after-hours. I personally don’t think it’s rude to eat in the cemetery, knowing that many cultures do this regularly, and it was once a common practice. But don’t leave anything behind, and certainly don’t take anything. Don’t even take grave rubbings, as these can be hard on fragile older tombstones. Don’t blast music. The cemetery would prefer you not do drugs or have sex there. Many cemeteries do not allow dogs; keep an eye out for posted rules about this and anything else. Many people also consider it rude to walk on the graves themselves. When I lived in Brooklyn, I strolled Green-Wood—one of the most notable of the garden cemeteries—at least monthly. Built in 1838, the almost 500-acre cemetery included 20 miles of pedestrian paths, and its popularity inspired the city to build both Central Park and Prospect Park. Nearly 300 years later, it was by far the closest major green space to my apartment, which is especially important when you live right next to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.  You’re not disturbing the dead merely by your presence. BILLIE WINTER But Green-Wood isn’t just any green space: It’s a portal into the past, a way of visiting with former New Yorkers, from the famous (Samuel Morse, Basquiat) to the lesser-known denizens who might have strolled in that same cemetery decades before you.  Here in Seattle, Lake View Cemetery on Capitol Hill is one of my favorite places to connect with local history. It was the city’s major burial ground from the late 19th century to the early 20th century, and it’s where many of our pioneers are buried. There are plenty of Dennys, Mercers, and Yeslers. But there are also local folk heroes, like Madame Damnable, my favorite brothel owner whose corpse supposedly turned to stone.  Nearby, the small Grand Army of the Republic Cemetery is a great place to see Civil War graves. Mount Pleasant cemetery holds some especially dark history: A monument there marks the graves of 26 unknown dead who died in the S.S. Valencia maritime disaster in 1906, while other graves hold the remains of three I.W.W. members killed (by a sheriff and gang of “citizen deputies”) during the Everett Massacre of 1916. A monument at Mount Pleasant marks the graves of 26 unknown dead who died in the S.S. Valencia maritime disaster in 1906. BILLIE WINTER But for all their historical wealth, these cemeteries are also very intentionally built as green spaces—and that makes them a perfect place to watch the seasons pass. During springtime at Lake View, the cherry blossom trees shudder their blossoms down when a strong breeze hits, and the pink petals littering the white marble graves makes for a gorgeous sight. In late summer, Comet Lodge on Beacon Hill (which has a very strange history) is one of my favorite places to pick plump blackberries.  Of course, there’s one big difference between a cemetery and other places for observing nature or learning about history: all those graves. Back in the 19th century, when your great-grandparents were visiting, contact with death was far more common. The cultural shifts since then are a big part of why it now seems strange to us to go to a cemetery when we’re not mourning.  “Ordinary, everyday death is kept hidden nowadays,” writes Benoît Gallot, the head curator of Père Lachaise in Paris, in his book The Secret Life of a Cemetery (forthcoming in English translation). “At a time when life expectancy continues to rise and nine people out of ten die outside of the home, it is possible to live into old age and never see a dead body … Faced with this distance, with this gradual erasure of death, will cemeteries be the final holdouts?” In other words, cemeteries are one of the few places in modern landscapes where the fact of death is obvious.  You don’t need to be goth to enjoy wandering around graves. BILLIE WINTER But that doesn’t have to make them terrifying. Some research has shown that a careful, conscious engagement with mortality can motivate people to take better care of their health, build more supportive relationships, and live up to their highest cultural values. The scholar Joanna Ebenstein, in her new book Memento Mori: The Art of Contemplating Death to Live a Better Life, writes: “In some Indigenous cultures, people were taught to regularly ask themselves if today would be a good day to die—if they knew they would die tomorrow, what might they change today?” Death can be a clarifying force, one that allows trivialities and drama to fall away. So get to know your long-passed neighbors. What’s their tombstone like? How did they choose to be remembered? Who are their neighbors in the necropolis? Oddly enough, standing near the graves of the dead can help bring them a little bit to life. But the great thing about going to a cemetery is that you can choose how much you want to think about death while you’re there. Unlike, say, sitting in a movie, it’s an active choose-your-own adventure that’s always full of surprises, whether it’s some new brightly-colored lichen, a mausoleum you never noticed before, a curious offering (I once saw eggplants at a grave in Comet Lodge), or something else. It’s free, and it’s always there, just waiting for you to come visit. I promise you’re not disturbing the dead merely by your presence—after all, back when most of them went into the ground, they were expecting company.