Where Angels and Mortals Meet: Oakdale Cemetery Documentary Script

Oakdale Cemetery DVD
Oakdale Cemetery DVD

I wrote the script for the documentary Where Angels and Mortals Meet about historic Oakdale Cemetery in Wilmington NC. It’s a gorgeous, garden setting and I really enjoyed reviewing the history then turning it into a travelogue-like narrative.

Here’s a link to more information from the Friends of Oakdale Cemetery.

Below is a review that appeared in the 2009 Newsletter of the Gravestone Studies Association

The history of the cemetery, including famous and interesting burials, along with the history of the area is well explained in the narration and through stunning current and historical photographs.

The production quality of this video can only be described as outstanding. The photography is breathtaking. The viewer is taken on a stroll among the flowering shrubbery, the tombstones and crypts and the magnificent trees. One cannot help but want to visit the cemetery.

Tourists as well as local residents will enjoy this video. It will also attract, and retain, the attention of community leaders. The video will be a constant reminder that Wilmington has a treasure in this park known as Oakdale Cemetery.

I find myself envious not only of this wonderful cemetery but also of the DVD itself. Many cemetery friends organizations will watch this video and grind their teeth wishing that they too could produce something of this quality.

– Hugh T. Harrington



Original short story by Neil Shurley.

Until it became time for me to enter elementary school, Mother and I lived in Vegas, where she cocktailed six shows a week at the Stardust. I spent showtime in a back room straining to hear the headliner’s act, although laughter and applause were the only real sounds that carried through the walls.

I’d pass the time reciting passages from the bible chapters Mother and I had studied that week. I took great pride in memorizing verses for the upcoming Sunday’s lesson assigned for my Beginning Christians class.

Before the show Mother would quiz me as she pulled on her little outfit.

“Psalm 23,” she would say as she wiggled into her fishnet hose.

“The Lord is my shepherd,” I’d reply, tiny fist gripping hairpins which Mother would extract one by one. “I shall not want.” Continue reading “Commandments”