Cliff Layton knows where his grandfather is buried in Wilkins Cemetery. He can walk you right up to the spot. Or he could – if he had a chain saw. “My grandaddy is right in there, somewhere,” said Layton of his grandfather, who served in World War I. “And my daddy is right over there.”
Layton points to a sprawling mound of brush and vines, thriving weeds and toppled trees, lashed together with a formidable stand of thorny devil’s walking stick. Layton would venture closer, but for an 82-year-old, the task is daunting.
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