My grandmother Edith’s church “Old Fellowship” in Stilson held its’ Homecoming a last week.  Old Fellowship was founded in 1844.    

We have a tradition every Homecoming of going out to the cemetery and visiting the family plot.  Buried there is my Grandfather (my Dad’s dad), my Granny (my great grandmother), my Great Grandfather and my Great Uncle Gilbert.  (different from my Regency photo Uncle Gil)  While we are there, we each drop a rock from the plot into the metal pipe you see above.  Seems weird???  Read on…

My great uncle, John Gilbert Woodward, was killed  in May of 1944 during WWII on a training flight in the Gulf of Mexico.  My grandmother told me that he was two weeks away from getting his “wings”.  He was only 22.  The accident involved Gilbert and his flight instructor.  His flight instructor survived.  Surprisingly, Gilbert’s funeral was open casket.  The only visible injury was a bruise on his temple.  My grandmother was his only sibling.  She was pregnant with my Aunt Carol at the time.  (Dad and Aunt Carol are my grandmother’s only children.  Aunt Carol is the oldest.)  My grandfather was from Pennsylvania and New York.  He had met my grandmother while he was in the military stationed in Savannah.  After Gilbert’s death, Granddaddy decided to stay in the south and not take my grandmother back north where his family was.  He said that he couldn’t leave his parent-in-laws all alone. 

Gilbert attended the University of Georgia.  He was one quarter shy of graduating.  He decided to join up when his friends did.  My grandmother said he made that decision while he was home on Christmas break.  She was pretty sure that it was the Christmas of 1942.

After Gilbert’s death, my Great Grandfather put in a well at the grave site so my Granny could water the flowers that she put there.  There used to be an old-timey hand pump on the well.  (2nd photo)  That is the well we drop the rocks into each year.  I wish I had a photo of Granny pumping water for her flowers.  What a loving act honoring the child she had lost.

Gilbert’s story continues…in the eighties (we can’t remember the exact year)  a scuba diver was diving the crash site and found Gilbert’s class ring.  (shown above)  The diver was able to track down my Granny through the University of Georgia using his fraternity letters, graduation year and his initials that were etched inside the ring.  My Granny was given back a treasure from her only son.  A treasure that was in the ocean for around 40 years!!! We were all amazed! 

Granny  later gave the ring to my Dad.  It fit him perfectly.  He wore it daily until one day when we were doing some yard work he took it off and put it into his pocket for ”safe keeping”.  (I was in high school)  Later, when he went to put it back on, it was GONE!  After a full-out search I remembered that one of my uncles had a metal detector.  We borrowed it and actually FOUND the ring!!!  Our theory is that it was pulled out of his pocket with his keys and he ran over it with his truck.  When we found it, it was totally buried in the dirt.  Dad was so relieved that he didn’t have to tell Granny that he had re-lost the ring!

This is one of my favorite family stories!  Every year, on Memorial Day weekend in May, you can see a cross with Gilbert’s name on the court house square here in Statesboro.  I truly believe that WWII vets are heroes and a part of “The Greatest Generation”.  We can not thank them enough for helping us maintain our freedom.  If there is one in your family please tell them thank you from me!