Lizzie Borden Took an Axe...

My comfort in the East has increased enough that I have been able to go back to reading true crime novels in my bed at night.  I no longer fear the neighbors downstairs, no longer check under my beds and in the closet for boogey men, and I no longer sleep with face to my bedroom door in case someone sneaks in at night.  Most of my comfort comes from the landlady's husband, Joe, who seems to hang out in the yard at my apartment more than he hangs out at his own house.  Joe is a contractor and has 3 dump trucks in the yard that he is always tinkering with.  He waves at me and talks to me often, and I am convinced that if someone tried to put up a ladder to reach me on the second floor, he probably would do something about it.  Having said that, I still peek out my windows from time to time to make sure that no one has leaned a ladder against the house while Joe is gone.  It's true that my worry over a ladder crime has kept me from watching Forensic Files, but reading true crime novels is a good first step. 

For some reason, after finishing one of my novels, I started thinking about Lizzie Borden this week.  You know the rhyme don't you?

"Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother 40 whacks.  When she saw what she had done, she gave her father 41."

It wasn't really her mom, it was her stepmom, Abby and her father, Andrew.  She also didn't give them anywhere close to 40 whacks, but they certainly were bludgeoned in an awful manner.  It's quite probable that it really was Lizzie who committed the murder, but there is no physical evidence linking her to the crime and after a sensationalized trial, she was acquitted.  She lived out her days as a pariah and eventually died a loner.

I had forgotten that the crime was committed in Fall River, Massachusetts.  Do you happen to know where Fall River, Massachusetts is?  I do!  It's right over the border from Rhode Island.  Given the proximity of this famous murder that I have known about my whole life and my love of true crime, I decided a road trip was in order!

The day didn't start out very well because of this:

No Diet Dr. Pepper.  The man at the counter assured me it was temporary so I had to make due with Coke Zero.  He likes to talk about my metal straw that I use every time I come in and today I mentioned I was from Idaho.  "Why the hell would you move from Idaho to New England," he nearly yelled.  I gave all the good reasons why and then assured him he was an idiot for thinking that New England was not wonderful.  Damn Easterners.  They don't know how good they've got it over here.  I guess we always tend to take for granted what we see every day.  I certainly know how fantastic Idaho is, but I also know how beautiful the East is too.  If you don't believe me, come visit.  Lobster rolls on me...

The drive to Fall River was beautiful as usual.  I have passed by it several times on my way to check out the beaches in Rhode Island but have never actually stopped before.  The town itself is quiet and old with wicked weird, narrow, and confusing streets; just like Rhode Island.  Thank goodness I have GPS because otherwise I don't think I could have found the scene of the crime:

After the trial, Lizzie purchased a home in the more affluent area of town and named the home Maplecroft.  Like so many other old homes in New England, it's lovely:

I don't know why a spinster pariah needs such a huge place, but I guess I shouldn't judge.  Lizzie lived and died in Fall River and the lovely Oak Grove Cemetery where she's buried is close to both homes.  I love old graveyards.  Always have.  Labor and birth are the great levelers of women.  Death is the great leveler of everyone else.  It's humbling to see the mouldering gravestones, some so worn you can't even read names or dates anymore.  It sure doesn't take long before nearly everyone is forgotten in this life and I sure hope my time on this earth will matter to someone - at least for a few years after I'm gone.

The Borden family was quite influential in Fall River and it was mostly Lizzie's more distant family.  You can see those suckers everywhere in the graveyard, but the Borden plot where the possible murderess rests is so popular, the way is marked with painted arrows on the ground, which start from the front gate and lead you right to the site.  Convenient for a wanderer like me.  Here she is:

Anticlimactic almost isn't it?  Her dad, mom, stepmom, and two sisters are all here and thankfully, at least the family marker is decent:

You know what else the East knows how to do?  Mark a grave.  The cemeteries are so cool over here.  Massive monuments, small creepy monuments, old crude headstones, it's awesome.  All the other graveyards I've been to in my life pale in comparison to what I've seen in the East.  Check out how tall some of these are!  I found this one in a different Borden plot...

Jared and I talk about our headstones quite a bit.  I really want a bench so that people can sit on it and talk about how great I was.  When people no longer know how great I was, at least there's a bench to sit on so that a complete stranger might find my bench, sit on it and think, "I bet this lady and her lover were great.  This is a damn awesome bench!"  Because I'm cheap, I don't want the bench to be wasted, so when I have the money for it, we're going to have it carved and then put it in my garden so that I can enjoy it until I die.  Then once I'm six feet under, my kids can move it to my final resting place and get busy talking about how great I was.  As usual, it's a completely reasonable plan and it makes me happy thinking about it.

I finished my day wandering on a beach near Fall River.  The ocean is just lovely over here.  The thing that amazes me is that it smells just like the beaches on the West Coast.  Wonderful, salty, vegetative odor.  I just love it.  Please people!  Can't someone just come visit me?  I'll take you to visit my friend Lizbeth Andrew Borden...