We met Billy Bolton and his sister who were direct descentants of the honored ancester and they encouraged us to attend the memorial service.  Billy would be presenting a speech about his ancestor.

The ancestor was Henderson Bolton, son of James BOLTON and Mary "Polly" CHAMBLEE. He was born on Nov 5, 1819 in North Carolina and died on Mar 24, 1905 in Franklin County, Alabama.  He married Elvira Elizabeth SPARKS, daughter of William B. and Eunice WOODRUFF SPARKS on January 26, 1847 in Franklin County, Alabama.

Henderson had joined the Confederate Army at Bluelick, Alabama on November 27, 1863 and served with Company B, 8th Alabama Cavalry Regiment as a private under the command of Captain N. J. Atkinson.

Steve Turner of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, Buford Parker publisher of 'The Source' magazine, Chris Ozbirn director of the Franklin County Archive Center and Gene Thorn were honored guest who would be participating in the memorial.  Songs sung by Leland Free were played prior and during the service.

This was a first for me since I had never been to one of these memorials and neither had my mother. As we were traveling in what appeared to be a funeral procession along with the other cars, my mother remarked that this seemed surreal, like we were going back in time.

We finally arrived at the cemetery which was a couple of miles off the main road and high on a ridge. Part of this ridge was overlooking the Walter A. Hester homeplace where my mother had grown up and the terrain was familiar to her although she had not been on this road in many years.

Arriving at the cemetery on this cool overcast spring day the wind was quite chilly high up on this ridge. And even though the trees were all leafed out in their golden spring hue of green it almost felt like wintertime.

A large crowd had already gathered at the cemetery when we arrived, and along with the foreboding dreamy unreal feeling, a hush and serene atmosphere pervaded the scene.

I could almost visualize the early settlers at this gathering with their worries and recent sorrows of this terrible war etched on their faces. Floating across my vision were faint wisps of small children running to greet each other as their families formed small groups to talk about the war and their future.

Watching the soldiers in their authentic Confederate clothes and gear getting ready for this event, I could again visualize a larger army of men, some of them resting from fatigue and hunger and others slipping into the underbrush to keep watch for the enemy. I could almost capture their expression of homesickness and the desire for this war to be over so they could go back home to their loved ones to try to knit their lives back together.

Oh, they were a proud bunch and believed in their mission but I could sense they also felt they were caught up in a much larger vision of something beyond and out of their control.

The cool sharp breeze suddenly brought me back to the awareness of my surroundings and I began to take pictures of the event. My mother is eighty one years young and didn’t come prepared to stand up outside in the cold, so I started to worry about her getting sick. I stayed as long as I dared so as not to cause my mother to have pneumonia or something worse and we slipped away before the speeches were over.

I hope to attend another memorial service in order to get to see the whole event and hear the cannon and the taps being played.

As we were driving back down the ridge road, my mother again remarked that this day just didn’t seem real. I totally agreed with her.

                      .............Ann Glasgow