At Westhampton Cemetery, at Station Road and Montauk Highway in Westhampton, N.Y., I am struck by the contrast of artistic embellishments on old gravemarkers: corporeal skulls suggesting, to me, the deceased’s present existence, or smiling angels with wings, indicating the gone one’s aspiration.
The place, these stones, the occupants continue to inspire. Consider, for instance, Philip Appleman’s poem, “Westhampton Cemetery founded 1795.” Here, we can remember when Westhampton was something more than a summer playground.
—Lori Tripoli