Columbus, Ohio USA
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Little Georgie Blount
By Tom Thomson
February 2011 Issue

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Sometimes I go over to Green Lawn Cemetery, which is not far from downtown. It’s a lovely place, a veritable arboretum and wildlife sanctuary. In addition to many birds, I’ve seen deer, foxes, a coyote, many gray squirrels including a white albino, red squirrels, chipmunks, striped ground squirrels, bull frogs, and snapping turtles. If I am alone, I am apt to talk to any of them.

I occasionally say hello to James Thurber whose ashes are interred there, and tell him how much I enjoy working on the articles I’m doing about him. If I’m in a good mood, I tell him how wonderful and exciting life is. If I’m in a more wistful mood, I tell him how much I sympathized with his “Life and Hard Times.” Sometimes I have a word or two with flying ace Captain Eddy Rickenbacher, but he’s pretty tight-lipped. Security conscious, probably.

Then there is little George Blount. He died in 1873 on Valentine’s Day, a week after falling from a stairway bannister in his father’s hotel in downtown Columbus. He was only 6 years old. It’s easy to talk to Georgie because of the elegant life-size sculpture that marks his gravesite. Truth is, I mostly just talk to him in my mind. Things like, “Hi’ya, kid, how ya doing?” or “I see you’ve got a nifty new hat on your head.” Stuff like that. Because the sculptor elected to put his cap in his lap, for years now unknown good Samaritans have kept his head covered with one kind of cap or another, sometimes draping a scarf around his neck, even bringing him little toys at Christmas time.

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