With Memorial Day upon us I thought I would share a story about an experience I had many years ago. I hope you enjoy it.

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As a Civil War reenactor and volunteer for the National Park Service, I had the pleasure and honor of participating in numerous living history programs and other ceremonies. One such occasion was a Memorial Day Parade in Richmond some years ago. You see, Richmond had held Memorial Day Parades for years until political correctness and city politics brought it to an end. However, and I wish I could give proper credit here, but I do not know who reinstituted it, they were started again in the late 1980’s.

This parade began at the old Home for Confederate Veterans on Kensington Ave., proceeded down Monument Ave., and ended at Hollywood Cemetery. The unit I represented was F Company, 21st Reg’t. of Infantry, Virginia Volunteers. As the Captain of that company I, and our membership, took great pride in our historically accurate portrayal of the Southern soldier. We were fortunate in that we had a tremendous source of information on F Company that was written by John H. Worsham, one of its original members, called One of Jackson’s Foot Cavalry. John was wounded in 1864 at Winchester, Virginia and returned to Richmond to convalesce. As the war ended before he could return to his regiment he remained in Richmond and retired to his home on Brook Rd.

Before beginning our journey portraying F Company, one of our members got the brilliant idea that if John had retired in Richmond he must still have family here. He literally went to the phone book and started calling Worsham’s. His third phone call was received by Miss Belle Worsham, John’s granddaughter (not great- just granddaughter). Her sister Sarah and brother John W. still lived in Richmond, the sisters residing in their grandfathers old home. We were invited to the house to see the personal items their grandfather had used during the war, and to say that they were happy for us to reinvigorate their grandfather’s old company would be an understatement. They regaled us with stories that their grandfather had told them as they sat upon his knee. Miss Sarah and Miss Belle, as they insisted on being addressed, were every inch the embodiment of regal Southern womanhood. The way they carried themselves and the easy, lilting Southern accent with which they spoke was mesmerizing to this history buff.

When our visit was over we told the sisters of the upcoming Memorial Day Parade and as John H. Worsham is buried at Hollywood Cemetery we asked them to meet us there and participate in a brief ceremony at John’s gravesite. They happily accepted the invitation. On Memorial Day we took part in the parade and at the cemetery we also took part in the grand finale at the Pyramid of Unknown Soldiers. Afterward my company moved on to John’s gravesite, along with his granddaughters and grandson. Here I made a brief speech extolling the virtues of Honor and courage that were exhibited by soldiers of the Late Unpleasantness, and specifically speaking to John’s contribution. My company then fired a 21-gun salute. While we stood at attention the sisters approached the site and placed a wreath of the most beautiful, vibrant white roses I had ever seen. I had seen wreaths with white roses before, but this was entirely composed of white roses and they were indeed very beautiful.

As we ended the ceremony and started to go our separate ways I spoke with the sisters and thanked them for coming out and hoped that we had done their grandfather his due Honor. They thanked me profusely and made it clear that they were very happy with the day’s events. Still impressed with the wreath they had placed I asked where they were able to find such a beautiful wreath comprised wholly of white roses. Miss Sarah’s face beamed and she straightened herself proudly to her full height as she told me; “When granddaddy retired after the war he took up gardening in the backyard as a hobby and a way to ease his mind. These roses are from the bushes granddaddy planted.” I feel no shame in telling you that tears welled up in my eyes, as they do now simply recounting this story. Here were women whose grandfather had fought and suffered in a war that tore our country apart, and they had the good fortune to know and live with this man. To hear his stories of the war and the feats of courage his comrades had exhibited. There was no animus on their part, nor had John ever exhibited any, or even uttered a harsh word that they could recall, regarding his old enemy. The war was done, The South defeated, but the knowledge that he and his brethren had fought for what they believed to be right, and were willing to sacrifice all if need be, allowed him and his family a sense of well-being and pride.

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Malo periculosam libertatem quam quietum servitium!

I prefer liberty with danger to peace with slavery!