Cedar Hill Cemetery

So, you want to hear about the most entertaining place to spend eternity? Grab a coffee, because I’m about to take you on a tour of Cedar Hill Cemetery, where the dead are far more interesting than most living people I know.

First, a little geography. This isn’t your creepy, fog-shrouded graveyard from a B-horror movie. Cedar Hill sits on a hill (shocking, I know) in Hartford, Connecticut, and it’s basically a 300-acre outdoor art museum where the residents pay zero rent. The views are so good that even the living come here to jog, which is either inspiring or deeply unsettling depending on how fast you’re running past a tombstone.

Cast of Characters: Famous Residents

This place is like Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, but with more stone and fewer selfies. Need a list? Here’s who’s sleeping in: Samuel Colt, the inventor of the revolver, who made sure his enemies got an express ticket to cemeteries like this one. Also, Katharine Hepburn is buried here, which explains why the grounds are so classy—her ghost probably wears a pantsuit and tells other ghosts to speak more crisply.

Then there’s J.P. Morgan, the financial titan who died rich enough to buy Connecticut. Rumors say his crypt has better climate control than most people’s apartments. And let’s not forget Wallace Stevens, the poet who worked as an insurance executive. His tombstone is a perfect metaphor: death is the ultimate claim you can’t file.

The Weird Stuff (Because of Course)

Now, onto the special features. Cedar Hill has a memorial to the Confederate dead—in Connecticut. Yes, you read that right. It’s like finding a moose at a beach. The story is that a group of Northern sympathizers funded it after the Civil War, but it still makes locals do a double take while walking their dogs.

Also, the cemetery has a fountain that sometimes turns green due to algae. People have called it “ectoplasm.” I’m not saying it’s haunted, but I’m not not saying it’s haunted. If you see a shimmering figure holding a watering can, just wave politely.

The "Drive-Through" Tour

Here’s the best part: you don’t even have to walk. Cedar Hill is so big that people drive cars through it like it’s a scenic park. There are actual road signs, stop signs, and speed limits. The dead are very patient with traffic jams. I once saw a minivan stop to ask a groundskeeper for directions to the “good mausoleum,” as if it were a deli.

Cedar Hill Cemetery - Brooklyn Park, Maryland

If you want to get fancy, you can rent a golf cart tour. The guides tell you stories about the “whispering crypts” (acoustics, not ghosts) and point out which trees were planted by millionaires. Spoiler alert: the trees don’t remember them.

Death by Architecture

The mausoleums here are ridiculously elaborate. One looks like a mini Parthenon, another is a Gothic chapel, and there’s one that could double as a bomb shelter for a very wealthy squirrel. The Colt family crypt has stained-glass windows of leaping deer, because nothing says “mourning” like a wildlife scene.

Then there's the Carrier monument, built by a family who wanted to show off. It’s a giant marble slab with carved roses, and rumor has it that the ghost of the patriarch shows up every November to complain about property taxes. I can’t confirm, but I’ve seen a raccoon wear a top hat near it.

The "Pet" Section (Not For Your Dog)

In one section, you’ll find graves for pets. Yes, actual dog and cat tombstones, complete with paw prints and names like “Fluffy” and “Mr. Whiskers III.” The dead humans don’t seem to mind—it’s probably the best neighborly relationship in the entire state.

Buried Here - Eric Carr, Early Drummer For KISS

One stone reads, “He was a good boy.” That’s it. No birth date. No eulogy. Just the truth. I’d rather have that on my tombstone than a long poem.

The Final Punchline

So why visit a cemetery for fun? Because Cedar Hill is alive with stories. You can see history, art, and the universe’s biggest inside joke: everyone here once thought their problems were important. The magnolias bloom, the deer graze, and the dead hold the world’s longest silent book club.

Honestly, the only downside is the parking—even in the afterlife, spaces fill up fast. So next time you’re in Hartford, skip the museum. Go to Cedar Hill. Bring a picnic, a camera, and a sense of humor. Just don’t try to chat up a tombstone. They’re terrible conversationalists.

And if you see a ghost in a pantsuit? Just nod. It’s probably Katharine, and she’s had a long day of being fabulous.