Drive South

Shannon and I will be leaving for our road trip in 9 days. I’m quivering with excitement at the prospect of visiting places I’ve not been to before. And also, I really miss Meaghan, so meeting up with her in New Orleans is going to be fantastic. I’m a little apprehensive about the itinerary we’ve mapped out for ourselves – it’s quite ambitious. 2,000 miles in five days. Are we nuts? That’s a lot of driving. And I’m not getting a fuzzbuster after all, so I’ll try to be good, but I’m already anticipating being stopped at least once……….

I’ve added a new playlist to my iPod – the ‘Drive South’ playlist. Lots of country stuff, of course ‘Drive South’ by Suzy Bogguss, ‘Tennessee’ by the Wreckers, ‘Black Velvet’, ‘Walkin’ in Memphis’, and a few favorites from True Blood. Actually, the music is a huge side benefit of our TB addiction – the latest gem is Bob Dylan’s ‘Beyond Here Lies Nothing’. Just amazing. I’m thinking we’re going to be working out some harmonies – maybe we’ll stumble upon a Karaoke night in the French Quarter? Ya think? More like in Nashville……..

I’ve ordered my updated map of the cemeteries of Macon County. I’ve pulled out my notes from my last trip to Macon Co. in 1991. I know there’s been a lot of new information gathered in 18 years – some of the cemeteries have been mapped out and entered into GPS. I’m really hoping to find Henry Wakefield.

OK now this is so weird, and I’ve mentioned this to many people over the years and I always get the feeling that they think I’m crazy. Hell, I think I’m crazy - largely because I haven’t yet been able to explain this in a way that seems reasonable. So maybe I can do that now. The first time I set foot in the state of Tennessee was in 1973. We were just passing through on our way to Florida. At the time I knew NOTHING about my Wakefield genealogy, other than that my dad was born in Minnesota and my grandmother died in Iowa. It was only after I started doing my research that I realized that several generations of my ancestors had lived in this state almost 200 years ago. When I began to uncover information about just how deep were the Wakefield roots in Tennessee, I remembered my first trip to the state. And I remember the strange feelings I had. Shooting down the middle of the state, I watched the misty mountains from the car window, and felt things I’d never felt before. I felt like I was being given a message. The message said, “You are home.” It was a physical thing – I felt this message in my core. I was nervous throughout the entire state. My stomach was shaking the whole way – and no I wasn’t carsick! It was actually strongest when we stopped in Chattanooga. Standing on top of Lookout Mountain, which would have been within sight of Dade Co., Georgia where my great-great grandfather Silas Wakefield had lived – I knew I was home. Had never been there before, but knew I was home. Now how can I explain that to anyone without sounding crazy? I don’t understand it. I just believe it. Faith.

So now fast forward over 35 years. I’ve found out a lot about my ancestors. Where they lived, what they did, how they lived, who they married. I have a multi-page narrative written by my 3rd great-grandfather Henry detailing his Revolutionary War service, and in it he comes alive. I can hear his voice through his words. Some of his character is revealed. And while all of this is just information, to me it became a lifeline, literally. A little girl who had lost her connection, regained it. I could now see that I DID come from somewhere. And in the knowledge, my loss was ever so slightly mitigated.

On my second trip to Tennessee in 1991, I felt a growing anticipation as the plane touched down. Tears welled up and rolled down my face. I was just plain moved to tears to be coming back to this place where so many of my relatives lived. The afternoon Mike and I snuck out of the Nashville conference to explore Macon County, I was absolutely thrilled traveling up and down each and every road. I was thrilled to think that these same roads (minus pavement) were traveled by my predecessors. I was filled with awe to stand on that ridge and overlook the land that my ancestor owned. I looked at the trees and wondered if any were planted by Henry - and now they are standing as silent sentries to history. I felt a deep connection to my history, and one answer to the question, “Who Am I?” I am a Weiss. I am a Gold. I am a Hayes. A Simpson. A Price. A Lively.

I am a Wakefield.