The Oberlin plot lay beneath a great oak and it was there they first turned.

How many will it hold? asked Jon Jon in a practical way.

Well, its filling up rather fast, Charles Oberlin said. And when it was laid out at the beginning, no one thought the cemetery would grow to its present size. And it is a public cemetery which restricts the size of family plots. Goodness knows there are enough already here and all Oberlins.

Now this one is H.L. Oberlin who took the donation land claim that is now The Place. It was small then, only six hundred and forty acres. Almost everyone who worked The Place added to it in some way. And this is Sarah Horne Oberlin, H.L.s wife. They are laid together because they are husband and wife. Then there is John Wesley Oberlin, your fathers grandfather who he calls Grandpa John. You will have heard tell of him, I am sure, from your father. And here lies his wife, Esther Fuller Oberlin, both names engraved on the same stone.

Listening to the slow recitation of names that now lay lost in some irredeemable past, Dr. John Oberlin tried to reconstruct those who had striven there in Willamette County, had carved out farms along the streams that flowed to the river Willamette, had carved out farms along the river too, all the while the sun beaming down upon the land broken by the long quiet lay of winter rain. Now they lay beneath stones laid upon the land in their honor and carved with epitaphs that one could only read.

Dr. John said, Theres another part I want you to know about. Grandpa John often brought me here because he thought it said much about Willamette County and Fourcross.

Walking not too far from the family plot, he stopped. Now this is the potters plot. The people buried here were either too poor or not considered to be a rightful part of the people to deserve being buried with the other more respectable people. This is Indian Tom. He taught my grandfather the Chinook jargon. At least Grandpa John could speak the jargon. It was a sweet language. I can remember him speaking some of it. I cant remember much more than Klahoya which means hello in English. Kloya creek gets its name from Klahoya but like almost everything the white man took from the Indians, it got all messed up and is now Kloya. Maybe well go there some day. Its funny, there really werent many Indians around when the settlers crossed the plains, not here in the valley or on the coast. It wasnt until a number of them were rounded up and taken to a couple of reservations along the coast and in the Coast Range in a valley called Grand Ronde that there were very many of them at a time, and then there were relatively few. Most of the tribes in the valley and along the coast were dead before the settlers arrived, killed by diseases such as measles, small pox, even chicken pox which so many kids get even today. One white man who carried one of these diseases could cause it to spread throughout a camp. Then tribe members would carry it to other tribes and there was much death all around not leaving many Indians alive.

Somewhere beneath the green of grass, lying embedded in earth rich with dreams of young and old, were the ancient onesthose whose voices sounded as the flowing of water. And times great river had claimed them and they lay there with silent voices calling to all who had and would follow afterdreams mythical and lost. Could they hear itthe quiet murmur of those voices from a dead past? Could Jon Jon and Beth hear those voices redolent with legends and heroes striding long upon the earth?

And here is Nigger Jom. Its a wonder he was allowed to be here at all. When Oregon and Willamette County were formed, Black People were not allowed, not even slaves. Some brought theirs anyway, and some, like Nigger Jim, were freemen and stayed in Oregon even if the people didnt want them around. The original constitution of the state prohibited Blacks from even entering the state.

Andrew and Melissa cant come here? asked Beth, a puzzled look on her face.

Yes, Andrew and Melissa can come here now, probably could have come even when the state was started if they kept to themselves and only worked as sort of servants of some kind.

But its OK for Black people to come to Oregon now, isnt it, Beth asked.

Technically, yes. But there are reasons why there are relatively few Blacks in Fourcross and other towns like it. Most of the Blacks, I suppose we are supposed to call them African Americans now, are in the larger cities. Portland, Salem, Eugene. But theyre not treated well in places like Fourcross.

Thats sad, Beth said.

Thats just plain dumb, Jon Jon said.

Its both sad and dumb, Dr. John said. But it seems to be true. Id like to say its a fact, but facts are things you can lay down and look at. You can look at the statistics, the numbers about how many Blacks and other minorities live in Fourcross and other towns like it and come to conclusions.

When we come to live here, I want Andrew and Melissa to visit even if theyre not wanted, Beth said.

Echoes of dreams long thought dead stirred low and quiet. When we come to live here! as if it were a foregone conclusion. But he had no intention of coming back to Fourcross and all its bigotry and inhibition. He loved Berkeley and the young people he worked with there. He had no intention of ever coming back to Fourcross. But the echoes sounded down through the corridors of time and he could not thrust them away.