McHistory

There has been much debate about large corporations like Walmart and Disney trying to build on historic grounds.  Critics say it will destroy history and demean the memory of those who fought and died for this country.  As an ardent preservationist, I I have to agree.  While it might not be possible to save EVERYTHING, I still think its important to hold onto what we can.

Driving through Virginia, you are inundated with all kinds of history from the very beginnings at Jamestown to more battlefields than you can count.  While touring around where Chancellorsville was fought, I could not fight the road hunger any longer and reluctantly stopped off at a McDonalds that was oddly Civil War themed with cannons and Civil War murals covering the walls.  I was both horrified and amused, but that Big Mac was still calling my name. 

Upon getting ready to leave, we ordered coffee to get us through the upcoming driving.  Since they make such high class coffee, it was taking a while so I started looking around at the paintings and one of Stonewall Jackson caught my eye.  I had known that Jackson was shot by his own men out of confusion and had died as a result of the wounds and the onset of pneumonia days later.  The caption on the painting said that a gravesite for Jackson was just a quarter of a mile away.  Now this wasn't just any grave, it was the grave for his arm which had to be amputated after he was shot.  With coffee in hand, I was on a mission to find the strange little grave. 

Steve, my traveling companion, instantly rolled his eyes at the detour and I could tell he was seriously thinking about catching the next flight out of Richmond if this was gonna be any indication of where the rest of the trip was going to take us.  Of course, I was in bliss at the prospect of finding this weird little piece of history.

The grave is located in a tiny family cemetery on Ellwood Plantation.  The story goes is that on May 3, 1863 following the amputation, Reverend Beverley Tucker Lacey visited the field hospital and disvovered the severed limb.  Not content with just burying it with other legs and arms, the good reverend wrapped the carnage up in a blanket and took it to the home of his brother where they buried it.  I often wondered what type of ceremony they had.  Considering Jackson was still alive, I wonder if they prayed over it or did the usual stuff associated with a burial.

Regardless, we found the plantation and asked a groundskeeper where we would find the arm.  He laughed a bit and pointed us down a path that led to the cemetery.  The location is marked by a single marker which says simply "Arm of Stonewall Jackson. May 3, 1863.  Despite the fact that it is a family cemetery, Jacksons arm is the only thing buried there.  I guess the rest of them knew they couldn't compete so they up and left. 

As I stood there staring at the marker and wishing that I had a shovel to confirm the existence of the arm, I was filled with an odd gratitude to McDonalds toward leading me here.  Usually, after a Big Mac, I am cursing their existence,  but between the rumblings of my unhappy stomach, I actually was thankful for McDonalds.  It made me realize that history can be learned in the strangest of places.

Recently, I also found the location where the rest of Jackson died on May 10, 1863.  It is located at Guinea Station, Virginia about 26 miles away.  A similar marker marks that spot.  My future goal is to complete the journey and locate where the rest of Jackson is buried but that will have to be a future summer trip.  Maybe a nice Wendy's Frosty will lead me there.