Homestead Cemetery Cleanup Day, 2025

Last weekend a new generation of Hagenbuchs visited the family homestead for the first time. Getting there, however, was a perfect example of Murphy’s Law. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong!
We had planned to visit the weekend before. But, our eldest son, William, fell ill and we were forced to cancel. Soon, our whole family was sick and laid up at home. It didn’t look like we would make it the next weekend either. Thankfully, everyone recovered and the trip was back on.
On Saturday morning, we awoke to a beautiful, autumn day. Although, as we loaded into the truck, we encountered a new problem. Henry, our second child, couldn’t get his car seat straps tightened. We played with the seat for several minutes, but when the seat couldn’t be fixed, we decided to replace it with another seat. That fixed the problem. However, the new seat took some time to install, putting us behind schedule. We hit the road about 10:40AM.
Unfortunately, as we entered the highway, we found traffic at a standstill. In our haste to leave, we hadn’t checked the traffic on our phones. Now we found ourselves snarled in a jam that further delayed our progress. Of course, the slow going caused our youngest, Rosanna, to start crying and the other kids to complain and whine. After 30 minutes of creeping along, we were cruising down the open road.
Now Rosanna needed fed, and she was fussing. It had taken so long to get moving that we needed to stop and feed her. We pulled over at a rest area and everyone ate something. That added another 30 minutes, and we were still an hour from the Hagenbuch Homestead.
We got back on the highway, and things were going fine. That is until we saw signs for road construction—the exit we normally take was closed! We had to use an alternative route which added a few extra minutes to the trip. We were almost there.
As we entered Albany Township in Berks County, everyone was enjoying the beautiful fall day and picturesque farms. But where there are farms, there are tractors, and what did we end up stuck behind? A tractor! It really was a comedy of errors. All things considered, we finally made to the homestead after 1PM, a few hours behind schedule.
Once there, we spoke to the owners of the property, who graciously welcomed us. Then, we made our way up to the family cemetery. Here lie three generations of Hagenbuchs including Andreas (b. 1715), his son Michael (b. 1746), and his grandson Jacob (b. 1777). Their wives and some children are buried there too. Most gravestones cannot be read, making it difficult to know who is exactly where.
We found the cemetery covered with high grass, briars, and thick bushes. It had been over a year since my father, Mark, and I visited in 2024. We had our work cut out for us, but William and Henry were eager to get started and jumped right into the task at hand!
As William pruned and raked, Henry used a grass whip to hack down the weeds. I cut grass, thorny vines, and raked, while my wife, Sara, put Rosanna in her bassinet stroller for a nap. Within an hour, things were already looking better and Rosanna was fast asleep in the field.
But we weren’t done yet. I pulled out a bow saw and loppers to tackle the tough stuff. William and Henry picked up what I cut, and threw it down the hill. Soon, we had bushes, branches, and saplings cleared from the cemetery plot.
After two hours, we stepped back to admire our work. It was a job well done and all the known gravestones were visible again. Everyone was a bit tired and getting hungry. We visited with the owners of the property one last time and headed for home.
Although we had some trouble getting there, the trip to the homestead had been worth all the frustration. It was the first time our children had visited the land where their 6th and 7th great grandparents are buried. For William and Henry, the time was especially memorable, and they had many questions about the lives of their ancestors.
The next day, I overheard them discussing how they would be back to cleanup the cemetery again—a proud moment for me. Like my father, I hope that my children will continue to preserve our family history and keep its stories alive for generations to come.





