Aspin Hill Memorial Park

On the first day of the road trip I took with my mom back in October, our last stop for the day was in Silver Spring, Maryland (after visiting Divine and the Enchanted Forest). I knew there was a pet cemetery there, but I didn't know much about it, so my expectations weren't very high. What we found was much larger and more elaborate than I had anticipated, and if it weren't for the swarms of bugs (mosquitoes? fleas?) preying on every inch of our exposed flesh, we could've explored for hours. 

Established in 1921, Aspin Hill Memorial Park is thought to be the country's second-oldest pet cemetery, after the one in Hartsdale, New York. Two local dog breeders purchased the land to build a kennel and, inspired by a trip to Hartsdale, they added a cemetery a year later. It was originally used only to bury their own dogs, but they soon began offering plots for sale, advertising it as "one of the most attractive cemeteries in the country," and claiming that it was “destined to become one of the most noted canine cemeteries in the world.”

I think their marketing materials were a little ambitious—and Aspin Hill is no Hartsdale—but it was a popular place. More than 50,000 pets are buried here and more than two dozen humans are buried near their beloved pets (!!). Notable residents include seven of J. Edgar Hoover's dogs and World War I veteran Rags. Lyndon Johnson had his beagles cremated here (they were interred at his ranch in Texas) and it's rumored to be the final resting place of Jiggs, one of the Petey's from Our Gang. Perhaps not as famous, but still worthy mentioning: Andy the well-dressed monkey, Poor Alphie, Napoleon Pierre, Mustard, Flippy, Nabby, Pooky, Bingo, Bunny, Little Boy Baby Thing and Napoleon the Weather Prophet of Baltimore, MD.

The cemetery is now owned by the Montgomery County Humane Society and it's still technically an active cemetery, although they are not currently selling plots. They rely on donations to fund property maintenance, and although it's obviously not abandoned it is not as well-maintained as  Hartsdale. In addition to the hordes of biting bugs (seriously these things were such a menace my mom was back in the car in minutes), there are fallen trees, broken stones, crumbling statues and other signs of neglect. 

This was my fourth pet cemetery (I visited my fifth near Palm Springs in December) and my mom's second (her first was Clara Glen). I think two pet cemeteries in two years officially counts as a mother-daughter tradition, one that I definitely don't mind trying to maintain.

I don't think I'll ever feel as removed from the deceased in pet cemeteries like I do in human cemeteries. Epitaphs to beloved animals such as "I will always love you," and "Faithful to the end" will always make me tear up. And then, because pet cemeteries are such strange places, the next minute I'll be laughing at a ceramic portrait of Frosty the cat (a pal) in a dress.

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Aspin Hill Memorial Park
13630 Georgia Avenue
Silver Spring, MD 20906

Divine

The first John Waters movie that I ever saw was 1994's Serial Mom. I was probably much too young to be seeing a John Waters movie, but I loved it. I don't feel as if I can call myself a mega Waters fan, however, because I haven't yet seen all of his movies and there is some seriously stiff competition in that department. I have tried to see most of his work with Divine—Multiple Maniacs, Pink Flamingos and Female Trouble—although I inexplicably haven't seen their most commercial collaboration, the original Hairspray. 

Divine, born Harris Glenn Milstead, was a longtime friend of John Waters and part of Waters's Baltimore acting troupe, The Dreamlanders. His offscreen story is fascinating and heartbreaking, and I highly recommend watching the documentary I Am Divine, if you're interested (last time I checked it was on Netflix). Waters and Divine did several movies together and each is iconic in its own way—although it's hard to top the ending of Pink Flamingoes where Divine (SPOILER ALERT FOR A 45-YEAR-OLD MOVIE) eats real dog shit or the scene in Multiple Maniacs where he is raped by the giant lobster, Lobstora (it doesn't make sense out of- or even in context, really). 

The first stop that I planned on our recent mother-daughter road trip, and the only stop that my mom knew about in advance (besides, of course, South of the Border) was Prospect Hill Cemetery, in Towson, Maryland to pay our respects to Divine. Divine died in his sleep of an enlarged heart in 1988, three weeks after the release of Hairspray. He was only 42. John Waters gave a speech at his funeral, and he was buried in a family plot next to his grandmother. 

Prospect Hill is a small cemetery, and although we didn't have an exact location for the grave it wasn't hard to find. We read that it would be covered in trinkets, and after just a few minutes we spotted it amongst several other Milsteads. Divine was estranged from his family for years, before reuniting with them before his death, and his headstone bears both of his names and the heartbreaking epitaph "Our Loving Son." I think the lipstick kisses, messages and offerings—both glamorous and trashy—would have pleased Divine. I brought my own tube of red lipstick to leave behind and I only wish I could take credit for those fabulously painted red nails, forever praying to the church of Divine.

Enchanted Forest

Ever since my life-changing visit to the Magic Forest in Lake George, NY I have been obsessed with storybook parks. At one time they were popular attractions all over the country, but they're definitely past their prime and just a fraction still remain in operation. Kids today want fast rides and flashy screens, not big shoes and the three little pigs.

Luckily, there are people like the owners of Clark's Elioak Farm, a 219-year-old farm in Ellicott City, Maryland. The nearby Enchanted Forest opened in 1955, and closed in the '90s. Over the years, the Clark family has purchased many of the pieces and installed them on their farm. I'm not sure how many pieces are missing from the original Forest (if any), but it certainly feels as if the farm is now more Enchanted Forest than actual farm—which is exactly what I was hoping to find.

I can't articulate exactly why these places hold such appeal for me—I don't recall ever visiting one as an actual kid—but I love any place that feels untouched by the passage of time. Sure, technology is great, but so is artistry and these figures and structures have a tangible, handmade, interactive quality that you just can't get from a screen. My very favorites were the Old Woman's Shoe (aka my future), Willie the Whale (my second Willy!) and Little Toot—because everything is better with face.

Almost all of the figures and structures are in excellent shape, and have been repaired, refurbished and repainted since landing at the farm. Despite having some repeat figures and themes, Clark's feels different than the Magic Forest—less creepy and probably closer to how these parks felt in their glory days. My mom pointed out the incongruity of my distaste for children and my love of all things child-like—aka, my life struggle—but we visited on a Thursday afternoon and the farm was (blissfully) deserted.  

There is an actual "Enchanted Forest" section in the farm, a wooded maze that takes you past characters and scenes from notable fairy tales. I wonder if kids today (spoken like the 80-year-old woman I am) even recognize any of these stories, like The Tortoise and the Hare or Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater. I'm still wondering about the large sombrero, the lone dinosaur and the alien/elf named Howie (??), but in my experience, things don't need to make complete sense to still be thoroughly enjoyed.

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Clark's Elioak Farm
10500 Clarksville Pike
Ellicott City, MD 21042
Open April 1-November 5
Tues-Fri: 10am-5pm, Sat-Sun: 10am-5:30pm