Trinity and Live Oak is all about Trinity Episcopal Church and Live Oak Cemetery in Pass Christian. In what Ellis refers to as a Storybook Land, is revealed in 130 pages packed with more than 350 photographs — most of which are grave side sights enmeshed within an enumeration of more than 1000 burial sites. These include plot descriptions, names, dates, places, espousal and parental relationships, and biblical and poetic statements as read from memorial inscriptions posted on monuments, pinnacles, stones, slabs, urns, etc.
Katrina, like Camille before it, just 36 years later, has again ravished the resting places of three former Church Rectors and twelve former town mayors. Also among the grave sites are 28 founding members and the first president of the Town Library (also laid bare by Katrina) – six recipients of the cherished “Outstanding Citizen Award,” six former Commodores of the Pass Christian Yacht Club – including its first Commodore. The first Pass Christian Eagle Scout, the first PCI Golf Club Pro, the first Chamber of Commerce president, the first Postmaster, a founding member of the Pass Christian Historical Society, and the organizer of the First Gulf Coast Tarpon Rodeo that was held at Pass Christian.
Other leaders disturbed by Katrina, had performed official duties for Harrison County government: the first Chancery Court Clerk, the first Sheriff, and the first Police Board (Supervisors) President. —And, the U.S. Surveyor General for the Northwest territory. Not obscure, are three ladies who operated private schools, seven owner/operators of hotels, eighteen doctors, and four druggists.
Being remembered — By the mark one leaves . . .
Once, they walked among us, smiling, laughing, whispering.
We knew them. We touched them. We loved them.
. . . Now remembering them as friends, family, residents, governing officials, heroes.
Within the crumbled earth, they remain as memories, remaining in this world only by their markings.
They rest along shaded lanes – secluded – laid out in history by their existence.
They remain as our remembered dead, or as with some, never to be remembered at all.
a rushing breeze may stir their voices — voices, not from the grave, but from within our quickened hearts.
The murmurs of those we have lost, and who yet remain, to be a part of us all.