Way long ago, when I was still a Child of the South, my Mother took a bus tour around the country. Ma was chasin' her dreams. She surely wasn't tied to the milkcan like Daddy. She had a "wanderin' bone," an' every chance she had on retiring, she took a trip.
When she got to Bakersfield, the rest of the tour went to Disneyland, but Ma went to visit Aunt Edith, her Father's Sister, whom she'd never met. Like so many relatives that live 'way off yonder,' I didn't even know Aunt Edith existed. Oh, but I wish now to have been able to visit and speak to her. Ma spoke a bit of the trip, but the most I remember her tellin' was of a treasure Aunt Edith showed Ma on this visit; her Father's Civil War Diary. Ma was impressed, thrilled, even impassioned to see such a relic; a tie to history. Aunt Edith didn't have any children, and Ma asked would she kindly pass the diary on to her.
I don't know the particulars of the next couple years, but Ma called to tell me one day a small box showed up in the regular mail, and lo and behold, inside was the Diary. She was thrilled beyond imagination. There was a tintype picture, a newspaper clipping, a calling card type picture with his name written in pencil on the back, and this precious bit of family history, the diary; not lore!
But joy wasn't exactly my memory of that moment. I was really excited, because I grew up yearnin' to be a cowboy. Herdin' cows, fightin' Indians, overcoming Yankees in some faraway skirmish where we were miserably outnumbered. Hollywood created a magical wonderland to this one young buckaroo. And then a reality check. Grandpaw was a Yankee! Oh no! Can't be. I'll never be able to face my friends. A little boys dreams were shattered! I suppose I was proud, but long after that initial shock. I grew to accept it over time. After all, we can't pick our parents. Eventually, I grew to love Ma's discovery. I loved my roots. A new side was revealed to my bloodline. I would, in time, be able to brag about having ancestors on both sides of the Civil War.
Alex Hailey's TV Miniseries, "Roots," engendered a generation's search for their roots, and I became one of those hungry souls. I went to the National Archives. I traveled to the cemeteries reading headstones and discovering my own roots. But in the Archives in DC, I uncovered a plethera of knowledge. Philip W. Morgan of the 100th NY Infantry had his own folders there: not only his service records, but his pension records. It was all I could do not to fold up a letter written by his Mother to Secretary of War Stanton begging him to "...exchange her son, who was caught by those wretched rebels at Drewery's Bluff..." Oh what a thrill to see that beautiful handwritten note!
That same day at the Archives, I wondered into the Confederate rolls looking for names. I found not less than 8 Confederate ancestors from Union, Mecklenberg and Yadkin Counties. My saving grace! There is a God! I can now be truly proud!
But in reality, my Yankee Grandfather began my search and my education of the Civil War. My heart tears apart when as a reenactor, I walk a battlefield where they walked and fought, and were even wounded. Imagine the day I learned when Pvt. Stephen Godfrey was in the 18th NC Infantry at Chancellorsville; the unit with the not so proud distinction of shooting General Thomas 'Stonewall' Jackson, R.E.Lee's right hand man!
Cpl. Morgan was successful in his pursuit of a pension for "the piles and rheutism" suffered as a prisoner of war. His diary stated on June 30, 1864, the day he arrived at Andersonville, "I was taught that God was gracious and knew all things, but here I stand with 30,000 men with no food, clothes or shelter..." It's all I can do not to cry when I read that passage. There's water in my eyes now as I write. Another cousin told me that Pvt Godfrey started 5 churches following the war. It makes me proud to know that, regardless of which side the fought, they were God fearing men; a legacy that continues in both bloodlines!
Amen!
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