History can inspire

History has always been a passion to me. I love to read about what happened and delve deeply into whatever topic of history I am learning about.

While today finds me expanding my knowledge of world history, as a youth, it was primarily the American experience which fueled my exuberance – the Revolution, the War of 1812, Mexican American War, the Civil War, WWI and WWII. These wars were all moments in time for which I sought our family connection. The young male desire to learn generally leaned more toward the physical struggles and the fighting. The sense of excitement was what drove my childhood mind. Overcoming the adversary and surviving to return successfully to your family was an enriching story and satisfying story. The deaths however always brought a sense of sadness knowing that someone would not be returning home.

The stories of home didn’t really excite me until I reached adulthood. By then I realized we each spend most of our lives repeating and doing what a child would consider mundane to keep the home fires burning.

I talked with my surviving uncles who had served in WWII. WWI was still alive for my gra ndparents as that was the war of their youth and their friends and family faced being sent to fight. I had two great uncles go, one returned in ill health and tried to get back to life but the impact of the war took a toil that saw him eventually succumb to long-term impact of his injuries. Great Uncle Tom returned in a wooden box and we always remembered his sacrifice for our country especially on Decoration Day (Memorial Day).

For their parents, it was the Civil War. Most of their children recalled more of the impact of upon daily life, the limited food and supplies long after the war, the guerrillas who raided the farms claiming allegiance to one side or another. The absence of men who went off to fight, some for North, some for South. I had grandfathers on both sides.

The oral and written history of the War of 1812 and the War of Independence were also sought. And there were stories that passed. I had grandfathers in both. Currently, I have found about 13 Patriot grandfathers who fought in the Revolution. I fondly remember getting to visit cousins, sitting by the fireplace that my Revolutionary ancestor Greenberry Wilson had sat in front of and listen to my cousins share the stories passed down. I played upon the paths and the furrows that Adam Sherrill had farmed.

They were alive to me as a youth through the words shared. As I grew, they were not a name in a family tree, they were part of me. As real as they were standing in front of me sharing a bit of their story with one of their grandchildren. I heard the story of Adam falling from his spooked horse at the Battle of Boyd’s Creek in 1780 at French Broad River, Tenn. breaking his ribs. The Indians had laid in wait flat upon the ground for the patriots. While dazed, an Indian springs upon him with a tomahawk about to end his life. Then a musket ball from a comrade fell the Indian, saving Adam, who escaped and joined in pursuit. I heard about the march of the Over-mountain men to fight the Battle of King’s Mountain.

All these fueled a desire to find more connecting me to cousins like Davy Crockett who gave their life at the Alamo in Texas in 1836 and so many others.

I have found battles around the world where my grandfathers fought hand-to-hand against other grandfathers. I am lucky they had already had their children, or when they died, I would not be here.

I have shared all this to say, thank you to those who struggled through all that they may have faced to raise the next generation. I am here because of the mundane and the extraordinary that you experienced. For those who fell in war, thank you for your sacrifice.