|
She Brings Life
to Place of Rest
By Bob Sylva
Sacramento Bee
(Published March 1, 1997)
On a pensive afternoon, the light
radiant one moment, only to wither in lament, the City Cemetery is nearly
deserted of living souls. Just these enormous crows that flit through the
barren elms like veils of grief.
One searches the worn paths for
signs of renewal. There is hope aplenty.
The ancient plots are fertile, well
groomed, covered by blankets of thick grass and juicy ice plant aflame with
blooms. There are clumps of daffodils, their yellow bonnets nodding gently
in a consoling breeze. Even the bleached tablets
seem newly engraved.
There is a wooden slat bench, and
a tender grave site of Verlene K. Johnson, who was born June 27,
1927, and died July 28, 1991. Her epitaph reads, in total: "A loving and
caring person." A simple accounting of a life
that sounds summery, profound.
Now here comes Barbara
Oliva, strolling
through a thicket of headstones. She is very much animate, even
purposeful. She shades her eyes against a sudden downpour of sunlight.
She has short gray hair, gold-rimmed glasses,
a vague smile of contentment.
Oliva is at the cemetery nearly
every day. Not in mourning but in uncommon celebration. She tends these
historic rose bushes that have been planted on a series of mostly anonymous
graves near Broadway. The solitary labor has
given her own life a kind of lush revival, a sweet fragrance.
In truth, caught in the thorns of
winter, the rose bushes -- all slips from found specimens many of whose
species or hybrids are centuries old -- appear depleted, brambly, with
just a few tiny buds of promise on woody stalks
and willowy shoots. Many of the shrubs resemble tumbleweed cast up against the fence. However, in a poetic pruning,
Oliva manages to coax them to life, offering a spring preview
of dazzling color.
Her tour features a diverse bouquet,
including: Mme. Lombard ("She is about ready to spit out a
flower or two. Soon there will be this flush of activity"); North Bloomfield
Raspberry ("The bloom is the color of raspberries in quite a bit of cream");
Rosa Banksia Normalis ("This is as old as roses can get.
Centuries old. A lovely spray of singles"); Chi Long Han Zhu, or "White
Pearl in Red Dragon's Mouth" ("It is from
China and probably dates back to the dim mists of history"); Rosa Rubiginosa Eglantine
("This rose was mentioned in 'A Midsummer's Night Dream' "); and Duchess
de Brabant ("The Duchess is a beautiful rose.
A milky-white petal with globe-shaped blossoms").
Barbara
Oliva, eloquent and composed,
sits down on a nearby bench and catches her breath. She is wearing
baggy denim pants, a white sweat shirt splattered by paint with the legend
"Formerly Owned by Michelangelo." She is soon
to turn 70 years old. The bench, brushed in amber sunlight, is a fine place
to consider the many seasons of her life.
She is a native of Northern California.
Her father was a Presbyterian minister. She earned a degree
in home economics from Chico State. She arrived in Sacramento in 1950,
and taught school for 36 years. Raised three
children. She is retired now and earns a little seed money as an usher
at the Sacramento Community Theater. Her husband
died 15 years ago. She lives alone.
"Heaven only knows what he would
think of me now," she laughs of her personal transformation, of her travels
abroad, her society of new friends, her passion for roses, her work here.
"When I first married, I was a meek, mild
woman who deferred to him in everything. But I bravely found out that I could take care of myself. That I could be independent
and survive."
Not just survive. But thrive and
bloom anew.
"When I retired, my daughter
asked me what I was going to do," she says. "I told her I was going to get
my garden straightened out. My daughter was shocked: 'You can't fill up
a life with gardening!' "She regards the pregnant rose bed with a wise
smile. "Oh, yes, you can."
In another month, the gray cemetery
will be a pageant of color. "Masses and masses of blossoms," promises Oliva. "Several shades of whites, yellows, lots of pinks, from garish,
harsh pink, to pinks soft and subdued. A few
reds, too. And none of the colors will clash."
Asked her very favorite rose, she
demurs, turns coy. "I'm like a lot of people who love roses," she confesses.
"My favorite one is the one that is catching my eye at the moment."
BOB SYLVA'S column appears Saturdays.
You can reach him at:
P.O. Box 15779
Sacramento, CA 95852
(916) 321-1135.
www.sacbee.com.
Back
|
