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Time Cannot Fill the Empty Chair

  • Writer: Christine Shephard
    Christine Shephard
  • Nov 1, 2022
  • 3 min read

Updated: Aug 30

As October comes to a close, Sunday's weather was ideal for taking my camera on a walk through my favorite local cemetery, Oakwood in Syracuse.


By now, most of the trees have lost their leaves, forming a colorful carpet on the ground. I enjoy the rustling sound they make as I walk through the hills and valleys.


I visited a part of the cemetery I hadn't been to in a while to check on a particular memorial. I frequently return to gravestones to see how they are holding up. Sometimes they appear unchanged, aside from some aging. Other times, they suffer damage, either from nature or, regrettably, vandalism.


As I gazed at the next hill, I spotted what I was searching for: the memorial dedicated to Lester C. Tucker.


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Sculpted to resemble a Victorian tufted chair, it features a cape draped over one side. A baby shoe, symbolizing the loss of a child, rests on the seat, currently filled with various coins.


Why coins? The tradition of leaving money originated in the military, where placing coins on gravestones signified to the soldier's family that someone had stopped to pay their respects.


This practice extends beyond the military. Visitors from all walks of life leave coins, sometimes stones, to indicate that someone has visited that particular grave. It's a way of showing everyone who passes by that the person buried there is remembered.


Lester was nearly four years old when he passed away due to scarlet fever. As I mentioned in a previous blog post, medical science in the 1800s was lacking in many areas. Scarlet fever was highly contagious and could lead to long-term complications such as kidney disease, rheumatic heart disease, and arthritis. Before the advent of antibiotics, it was a major cause of death among children.


There is limited information available about Lester and his family. All I discovered was that he succumbed to an illness and his memorial is a charming child-sized chair. I couldn't find any details about his parents, Clarence and Martha Tucker, or whether he had any siblings. Surrounding Lester's grave are other monuments labeled Tucker, but none bear the names of Clarence and Martha.


Below is his obituary, published in the Syracuse Standard on May 11, 1869:


"On Monday morning, after an illness of about thirty-six hours, Lester Clarence, son of Clarence and Martha J. Tucker, aged 3 years, 11 months, and 22 days.


A blossom whose unfolding bloom

Grew lovelier day by day,

We saw the sudden fire consume

The blight no band could stay.

No human skill can now avail

Our darling to restore;

But oh: there's comfort in the thought;

Not lost, but gone before.


Funeral services at the Church of Christ tomorrow (Wednesday) at 11 o'clock a.m. Relatives and friends are invited to attend."


With that, I'll conclude my Sunday afternoon tale about a little chair for a young boy, situated on a cemetery hillside. It's a tribute from devoted parents to a child who had passed away.


Christine Shephard is a photographer, writer, and avid taphophile. She makes her home in Central New York.


Images captured by Christine Shephard Photographic Design and the written content cannot be utilized in any other format or publication without explicit permission.


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