The Ramsey and the Stone lines somehow crossed paths in AR and I was born there at Hot Springs Natl Park. Huck Finn had nothing on me for the first 10 years. Some of my independence may have been due to my folks splitting when I was about a year old. I knew almost nothing of the Stone line. Supporting us kept mom and grandma way too busy to keep good track of me, so I had lots of freedom.
One gets older. That produced a desire in me to know about those pesky Stones. When the three of us children met with dad (I was 42 by then) I got even more interested.
Time passed ... work to do, kids to educate and hopefully save when they ticked off various neighbors ... all distractive from learning one's heritage.
About 10 years ago I came across an obit for William Pitchford Stone, the vet of the 28th Alabama. It said he was born near Stone Mtn, GA and died near Mt Hood, OR and lived 94 years without ever having had a quarrel with a neighbor. Using clues in the article I found many of dad's relatives , now in OK.
I visited there and got a whole new look at folks on his side of the family. My kids and I spent nearly 4 years trying to prove where Wm P was buried, even with the obit telling us.
Seems the caretaker of records was not too caring . Finally a Harley-riding lady, who belonged to the Varina Howell Davis Chapter of an organization I had never heard of before, was given my name and told of my quest by a Cem Assn. head in OR. This lady, was mighty interested in discovering the graves of CSA vets in her part of Oregon. (The Dalles) Oh yes, the organization was the United Daughters of the Confederacy. : )
In a few months of her doing a local bush beating with the record keepers, she found where he was buried and as feared, he was unmarked. My intent had been to remedy that situation from the outset if it should happen that he had no tombstone. Well, Pat, the lady from the UDC not only found the grave , she found me two cousins who were also great great grandsons and put us together. Then she asked if she could get a marker to commemorate his service in the cause. We all thought it would be fitting and I soon had an email with a picture of the gravestone in the trunk of her car at the dock.
A few emails back and forth and we decided it would be just great to have a small dedication ceremony for the new stone. Pat said she could get some daughters in period dress and some sons in gray uniform (with musketry) and we would give the old Confederate a rousing time. In the few months of planning I kept getting mail from more and more descendants of Wm P. By Oct 7 of 2000 when we gathered on a beautiful hillside on a great day in Dufur, OR, there were well over a hundred who had come to get acquainted and to share the fun. (another essential contribution from me was the rental of the potties : ) They came from Alaska, Washington, Canada, Oregon, California, Idaho and many other locations. His flag was sent by a Georgia Sons of the Confederacy unit, along with dirt and water from the area of his birth.
Pat provided for the ladies in costume, real corsets reputedly included, the soldiers, some colorful zhouaves as well, and the flags and muskets.
As the Captain, in dress uniform, was extolling Wm P for his wounds and his service to the Confederacy a small stir grew into a much larger whirlwind and sped across the hill straight for the podium on which rested the guest book . The pages of that book went every which way and almost everyone scrambled to snag a page or two before they got away ...
Many of us concluded that Wm P had just said "howdy" to his descendants. What would you have thought?
ron
