Never Forgotten

At the age of 9, Daniel and his family settled from Ireland to the area around Galena, Illinois in the northwestern part of the state.  Shortly after the family moved here, his father died unexpectedly, and his mother remarried and moved the family across the Mississippi River to Dubuque, Iowa.  Daniel grew up farming the land overlooking the Mississippi River.

When he was 24, his adopted nation called and he enlisted with the US Army and served in battle for 5 years with the US 12th Infantry.  Injured in combat, he still fought on until the end of the war when he received his honorable discharge, and then he returned to Dubuque - the place that he loved.  He never married and passed from this world at the age of 74, then he was laid to rest in Rockdale Cemetery.

Daniel McGinnis did not invent anything, was not in politics nor business and would just be another face in the crowd at any gathering.  He would just be a forgotten footnote in the history of this town, if not for the unselfish act of two people.

Five hundred miles north of where Daniel lived out most of his life,  Marshall Davis, a decendant of one of Daniel's brothers, was working to compile his family history.  Compiling Daniel's information was easy enough as far as his military records and obituary were readily available to compliment family records.  One final item to clear up was to get a picture of Daniel's headstone, so Marshall enlisted the services of volunteers with the Find-A-Grave website (http://www.findagrave.com).

Meanwhile, in Dubuque, I had decided to work on my own genealogy and started working with findagrave again.  I put in some requests and decided that I should take on the task of knocking off some of the local requests that had been up for quite awhile.  Rockdale Cemetery is rather small and easy to access, so I would go for a quick photo and clear Daniel's stone off of the list.

The 'quick photo' turned out to be a nearly year long endeavor.  See, when Daniel died, his niece had his body shipped from the Iowa Soldiers' Home in Marshalltown to Dubuque for burial.  The funeral arrangements were all made and the burial happened just before the frost set in.  The records at the Veterans office and those family records all showed that Daniel's final resting place was at the Rockdale Cemetery, but no gravestone was found in or around the cemetery for him.  Was he really here at this cemetery or were plans changed at the last minute and just weren't updated.  The search was on.

Church records showing Daniel McGinnis is in Plot 196.

Marshall tried several times to reach the caretaker of the Rockdale Cemetery.  Because it is a small graveyard, there isn't a full-time office or caretaker present, so it was difficult to make the connection to anyone that had access to burial records at the church and cemetery.  In the meantime, I continued on with fulfilling requests from findagrave at the other cemeteries in the area and kept a steady eye out for Daniel's grave.  When we finally were able to contact the caretaker at Rockdale, I had canvassed all but one cemetery in town.  Sure enough, church records showed that Daniel was indeed interred at Rockdale and the grave site was checked to make sure of that.  At long last, Daniel's whereabouts were known.

With Daniel's funeral taking place in November, I am sure the intent was to order a headstone in the spring, but somehow the stone was either never ordered or just never set.  Eventually, Daniel's only living relative in the area passed on and so Daniel lie in an unmarked grave - for over 100 years.

Yes, you read that correctly.  Daniel died in 1910.  He fought in the US Civil War at Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Antietam, Chancellorsville and eight other battles, including the Battle of Gaines' Mill in June 1862, where the 12th INF suffered losing half of their troops.  It was probably at this battle, where Daniel was shot in the leg.

Here Daniel was, a true American war hero, and he was in an unmarked grave in a small cemetery in Northeastern Iowa.  Marshall and I both felt that Daniel should finally receive his gravestone - to never be lost again.

Having served his country in military service and receiving an honorable discharge, the US government makes provisions for a grave marker to be issued at the cost of the government.  It doesn't matter if the person fought in battle or not, just as long as they have an honorable discharge.  All the paperwork was submitted to the Veterans Department and that stone was cut, embossed and shipped to Dubuque.  Brannon Monument received the stone and placed it in the cemetery and then, after laying in an unmarked tomb for all these years - and searching for nearly a full year - Daniel's whereabouts will always be known to the world.

Most importantly, this Memorial Day and Veterans Day (and each one as long as I live in this area), a flag will be placed according to military protocol at the grave of a man I never had the pleasure of meeting nor ever read about when studying Civil War History.  A man I feel totally indebted to for his fight to keep this land that we both love, free.

Corporal Daniel McGinnis.  Civil War Veteran.  American Patriot.  You are gone from the surly bonds of this life, but you are not forgotten.

FOOTNOTE:  In the process of reviewing the church records, we discovered that Daniel's brother James (whom it was believed was buried elsewhere) was also buried in the Rockdale Cemetery.  Two unmarked graves were found.  James' tombstone will be ordered and placed when all of the records are compiled and sent to the Veterans Departement.

Life and Death - My Enduring Battle With Depression

SPOILER ALERT/WARNING: This post is going to be about some of my encounters with Major Depressive Disorder.  I will be discussing some things that are of a very, very personal nature and include some of how I have arrived at this particular point in life - a point that is sad, scary and yet true.  I am not asking for sympathy, only understanding.  I am also hoping that if there is anyone else that reads this post, that is experiencing the same in their life, they will seek out a professional to help them through it.  Life is precious and wonderful.  Everyone matters and is valuable.  The battle sometimes appears impossible, but that is where your professional help comes in - they help you to defeat the beast.  You are worthy.  You can win.

I had finally come to the point where I was to say, "it is finished and I am out of here."  I was almost ready to take my bow, wave to the crowd and exit - stage left.  No encore.  No second act.  Last night of the tour and last night with the band.

I was exhausted from lack of sleep and the emotional roller-coaster ride that had been my life's story.  When I slept and if I had dreams, they were all of the rather macabre variety.  Car wreaks...train derailments...planes...bombs.  Gory, high speed deaths with no escape and with no hope of survival.  I was barely eating, hating work and basically just going through the actions of being a human being.  I took a mental note of my value to self and society and was short-changed.  As I saw it, I was pretty much a drain on everyone and not worthy of the next breath I was to take.  The only thing keeping me from crossing that final portal to the afterlife was a rapidly eroding fear of death and an equally vanishing opinion of the selfishness of suicide.

Here I am, deeper in debt than ever imaginable - so deep that I can never, ever get out of it.  I am in an occupation that I am totally burned out on, yet I keep going back to out of sheer necessity - it pays the bills to barely survive.  My marriage just keeps getting worse and I am dragging her down a road that she doesn't need or deserve to be on (thankfully, for her, she abandoned ship in an attempt to keep from sinking).  I am enduring ridicule all around me because there are those that I am forced to deal with that think they have to tear down the littler guy so far beneath their own miserable life in a effort to feel far superior.

So, after spending the morning at work in a mental fog from over 48 hours of no sleep, I was forgetful and beating myself up for not remembering something minor, I had just had a minor accident at work where I was drilling a large hole and the the bit caught on a nail, thus nearly twisting my wrist.  The final straw was when someone I work with asked me for the item I had forgotten and then was verbally upset over the fact that I had forgotten the item.  It was then that I yelled back and then clammed up and was sent home.

Those "what if" thoughts started happening.  Like a cartoon with the little devil on one shoulder and the little angel on the other:

"What if I wasn't here anymore?  Then they wouldn't have me to harp on"

"They would just find someone else to yell at."

"What if I was just to drive this truck into that bridge abutment?"  That would show them."

"Yeah, but what if you killed someone else in the process?"

"Nobody would miss me if I was gone."

"Who would take care of those five cats that love and adore you and depend on you?"

The back and forth like that carried on for almost 15 minutes.  The largest part of me just wanted to be free of the mental pain, the exhaustion and the deep sadness that had enveloped me.  Basically, the total darkness that I felt inside.  There was that tiny little part of me that wanted to go on, fight through this and and get beyond it all.  Fortunately, I listened to that little whisper and followed it's desire to win.

I went to someone that I knew I could trust and that would point me in the right direction and told her that I needed to talk to someone.  I was nearly in tears.  She gave me two phone numbers of local agencies and I called one, which led to an answering machine, and then the other.  An appointment was set for the next morning to do the intake and, within twenty-four hours, I was getting the professional help I needed.

The path is not easy by any means.  I still suffered the ridicule from those that always offer it.  I have suffered the shame of having people wonder - sometimes aloud - if I am going to commit suicide.  Most important is that I am getting help from people that are trained in how to work through this and how to deal with the little crap that pops up and add to the problem.

Sure, I still have the debt, marital issues and hate my job, but I see myself in a totally different light.  I even see others a little bit differently.  I am going to get through this and become a stronger person, in spite of depression.

The Last Lecture

I have noticed, in the last couple years, there have been a lot of things out there that deal with the ultimate question - what would you do if you knew you were dying. From the song, "Live Like You Were Dying" by Tim McGraw to movies like "The Bucket List." I don't know if it is because the events of Sept. 11, 2001 forced us to realize our own mortality or if it was something more benign than that, but the result is the same - to take an introspective look at our own lives and become better people.

One such journey into the realm of self-evaluation and fulfillment that I have recently come across is from a professor at Carnegie-Mellon University in Pittsburgh and is a true story of one man's look at his own accomplishments and how each of us can shed our inner "Eeyore" to become a "Tigger."

So, I encourage you all to make the time to watch this video. I assure you that you will be touched and you will have a whole new outlook on everything in life. The title of the lecture says it all - Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams.

Youngest Daughter of Steven Curtis Chapman Killed

(from the website: http://stevencurtischapman.com/)

MARIA SUE CHAPMAN, DAUGHTER OF STEVEN CURTIS CHAPMAN, DIES IN ACCIDENT AT FAMILY HOME

NASHVILLE, TN...5/21/08... At approximately 5pm on the afternoon of Wednesday May 21st, Maria Sue Chapman, 5 years old and the youngest daughter to Steven and Mary Beth Chapman was struck in the driveway of the Chapman home in Franklin, TN. Maria was rushed to Vanderbilt Childrens Hospital in Nashville, transported by LifeFlight, but died of her injuries there. Maria is one of the close knit family’s six children and one of their three adopted daughters.

More than five years ago, Chapman and his wife MaryBeth founded The Shaohannah’s Hope Ministry after bringing their first adopted daughter, Shaohannah, home from China. The ministry’s goal is to help families reduce the financial barrier of adoption, and has provided grants to over 1700 families wishing to adopt orphans from around the world. Chapman is a five-time GRAMMY ® winner and 54-time Dove Award winning artist who has sold over 10 million albums and garnered 44 No. 1 singles.

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It is truly sad when a tragic accident like this happens. My heart and prayers go out to the Chapman family.

BTW, I also found this video on the Steven Curtis Chapman website that was just recorded two months ago and features Maria.

Reality Check

There are times in our lives that we get so complacent in the mundane that we forget what is real and what we are supposed to be doing. We think that our daily grind is what we are supposed to be doing, when yet there comes a knock or a phone call that really jolts us back to reality.

That is the way it was on Tuesday. I had been harried by work, which only makes a bad day of work even worse. I was a bit down because of the decision that I had to make because the candidate I was supporting for president had dropped out of the race. I was dealing with the cold and the fact that not only is it cold outside, but it is cold inside, too. I was struggling with a decision that my boss made that I thoroughly disagree with. Top it off with the mental anguish that I really want to be doing something totally different with my life, but that I seem to be mired in the quicksand of life and stuck on just about every project that I have started.

I really thought it couldn't get any worse, then I got that phone call from 'Reality' that has made me stop and look at everything in a new perspective - the right perspective.

I met Stephanie in January 2005 through an online group back in Phoenix. The group is all about friendship, kinship and helping others. More times that not, we are that soft shoulder for each other to cry on, that well needed hug and a sympathetic ear to listen. We laugh together and we cry together. We may not always agree, but we are friends. Ironically enough, the group is about 90+% women and yet, I am accepted. Funny is that I am the appointed "Shining Knight and Protector" in the group - a title that I have enjoyed and had to use on a few occasions.

Stephanie and I met for coffee on a few occasions, chatted on the phone a couple times and spent countless sessions together on instant messaging. She was my big sister and friend and more times that I can even count, she was there to bring me back to reality when I was going off the deep end. We had not been as close of friends since both of our families moved on from Phoenix to different parts of the Midwest, but we still emailed each other occasionally and still shared Christmas cards. This Christmas, it was a 'Santa on a Harley' card - as soon as I saw it on the wall where Lisi had put it, I chuckled and knew before looking inside that it was from her. That was Stephanie. Each morning since that card arrived, I have looked at it on my way out the door to go to work and it is a reminder that she is there for me if I need her.

That phone call the other night came from a mutual friend of ours. The news was shocking and totally from out in left field. It was something that completely caught me off guard. My friend Stephanie had passed away.

Stephanie was barely 40. She was, for the most part, in great health. Sure, she had some problems years ago, but had moved on and been doing great from what I know. Now she is gone from our presence and, though I have dealt with death all my life to the point of being content with it, her passing hits me pretty hard for a lot of reasons.

Though she is gone, I will still have her in my heart and my memories. I will probably be reeling from this for a bit, but I know that I will all too soon have the worries of the weather and work and dreams put on a shelf, but I am hoping that - like she would always do - Stephanie will jolt me back to what is real in life and keep me looking straight at what I need to focus on.

But we'll keep you close as always

It won't even seem you've gone

Cause our hearts in big and small ways

Will keep the love that keeps us strong

(from Michael W. Smith's "Friends")