A polished metal sign marks the entrance to McNabb Cemetery in Marion County, Tennessee.
Handmade. Unassuming.
Like the place it protects.
Up this gravel drive sits McNabb Cemetery. The cemetery is older than Nickajack Dam, older than the power lines streaming down the mountain’s slopes, older than the idea that this valley would ever be engineered to harness electric power for the burgeoning population of nearby Chattanooga, Tennessee.
The earliest graves date back to a time when mines operated nearby,
when families lived close to the land,
and life followed simpler rhythms.
McNabb Cemetery follows design elements of other, nearby cemeteries like the one I have explored on Aetna Mountain, known as Aetna Mountain Cemetery.
Nestled between the Tennessee River and the TVA Raccoon Mountain Pumped Storage Facility, McNabb Cemetery quietly watches two worlds pass by;
one shaped by hand tools and hard labor, the other by turbines, storage tanks, and megawatts.
Here, time moves differently.
If you never owned a calendar, you could still tell the seasons by walking these rows.
Spring brings flowers, freshly placed.
Summer brings small flags and sun-faded ribbons.
Autumn leaves collect around stones worn smooth by weather and years.
And winter brings holiday decorations and the sound of cold rain falling onto the fallen leaves.
But time doesn’t stand still and progress moves ever forward. The burgeoning population of Chattanooga is spilling over, populating the nearby mountains and altering the natural scenery.
McNabb Cemetery lies on ground surrounded by TVA property which will act as a buffer zone to protect the encroachment seen by other cemeteries in the area.
According to TVA: “The area around Raccoon Mountain is a state-designated Wildlife Observation Area. The mountaintop is home to whitetail deer, woodchucks, gray foxes and, of course, raccoons. The most compelling wildlife attraction of the area is a large wintering population of bald eagles, which can be sighted from the overlook as they hunt in the woods and waters.”
Cemeteries like this aren’t frozen in the past; they’re living records maintained not by institutions, but by families who keep showing up.
Places like McNabb remind us that you don’t need marble to mark a meaningful life, and you don’t need a calendar to know when remembrance still matters.