A Bitter Sweet Visit

Today I visited the grave of my 5th great grandparents, John "Justice" and Esther (Waugh) Gaston, "Patriots of the Revolution" for the very first time.
 

It was a bitter sweet moment.

Sweet because after 6 years of searching, I finally found them.  (It wasn't easy)  Bitter because their grave has been all but forgotten save some very recent grave violators.  The slab was moved about 8" in an attempt to push it aside.  Apparently too heavy to slide further, the desecrators dug down and opened the tomb from the side.  I called the local police and reported the crime but never heard a word back. 

In 1789 everyone in Chester revered the Gaston's. 

The top slab you see today is not original. It was placed there by local patriots ca. 1900 when their memory was still very much alive. Today, no one remembers and no one seems to care.

Prior to my photograph, the last known photograph of their resting place was in 2006.  The grave was compromised sometime between then and now.  Here is what it looked like in 2006:

Photo via "Find a Grave"



In 1782, the Gaston's were the most notable, significant and important people in all of upstate South Carolina.  John had rallied the entire population of Scot-Irish Presbyterians to oppose the brutal English invasion by force.  They suffered much and paid dearly for their patriotism.  All their worldly possessions, save the family Bible, were destroyed by the English.  The two loving parents of 13 children were chased all over South Carolina by the enemy.  John's brother, Dr. Alexander Gaston, was murdered in cold blood by Tory thugs as his wife and son looked on in horror.  They lost a son in the war due to smallpox and lost three more on a single day in a single battle, the "Battle of Hanging Rock."  Ebenezer, Robert and David Gaston all perished on 6 August 1780, just a few miles from home.

Now lying in desecration, John and Esther rest in what is now called "Burnt Meeting House Cemetery."  The graveyard is located very near to Richburg, SC in Chester County.  Sometime before the end of the War for Independence the Lower Fishing Creek Meeting House burned and was abandoned.  However, for perhaps another 100 years or more, the local Presbyterian community continued to inter decedents here.  The cemetery is enclosed by a chain linked fence and is accessible via a high power voltage line easement.  Other notable people rest here as well including the oldest daughter of John and Esther as well as John's brother Hugh who died of the measles ca.1766.  Their graves, however, are either unmarked or unidentifiable.

For their selfless service, the community honored John and Esther with the largest tombstone and the highest elevation resting place in the cemetery.  Time has nearly erased the memory of these great patriots.  May their memories be rekindled once more by a new generation of patriots!



Independent Thoughts for Independence Day - 2013

I live in "The Two Thousand and Thirteenth Year of Our Lord" still breathing the pure air of liberty, liberty given me by God and defended by many a patriot over the years.  My father was one such patriot.

He was born after the "Great War" and was just 10 years old at the onslaught of the "Great Depression."  He was a proud member of the class of  '37, Daniel Webster High School, Tulsa, OK.  He died before his time in 1966 at the age of 46 at Hampton, VA.  He was my dad.  He was my hero.  He was an American patriot.

Russ McCullough, Jr. was truly a Renaissance man.  He was an accomplished musician, an engineer of extraordinary merit, a marksman of no small talent and a father of rare dedication to his family.  He somehow sensed the need for service to country while he was still in high school.  Instead of taking advantage of a full music scholarship at the University of Tulsa, he joined the Navy upon graduation.  In 1938 many a patriotic Oklahoman wanted to serve on the proud and mighty U.S.S. Oklahoma, a battleship "of the line."  In those days, one could enlist to serve specifically on the ship named for one's state of residence.  Many "Okies" were on board between the wars.  Even today her lines stir both pride and sorrow.   From 1938 until the fall of 194l my dad served aboard Oklahoma.  He received orders to go to New York where he was to wait for reassignment.  He was there the day Oklahoma rolled over at Pearl on December 7.  Few sailors survived.  He never really talked about his service.  I know very little of it.  One time he said he had to discharge his weapon while off North Africa.  I do know this...though in the Navy, he was a marksman with the 1917 Remington 30.06.

During the Korean War, of all people, the U. S. Army contracted Russ to train its sharpshooters at the Lafayette Gun Club located between Newport News and Williamsburg.  He loved to sing and play the piano.  He was proud of his sharp shooting ability.  He was, however, very focused on his work.  He possessed an uncanny ability to see things in 3D.  Between 1949 and 1953 he went from designing floor furnaces in Tulsa to designing catapults for aircraft carriers at Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry-dock Company. One of my first memories was standing on the bank of the James River with my mother and my sister Carol as we watched the USS Forrestal ship out on her shake down cruise.  Dad was on board to check out his designs. 

She's now stricken since 1993 awaiting the scrap pile.  She will be sold piecemeal to who knows who...the Chinese perhaps?  She served proudly for nearly 40 years, quite a feat for an "oil burner."  From Lebanon to Desert Storm she projected the power of the United States where ever needed.  In her day, she was the very first "flat top" to have an angled deck, steam catapults and an optical landing system.  Fully loaded she weighed in at little over 81 tons!  She was the largest ship in the world for a number of years, and the most revered.

I was only 14 when he passed away.  I still miss him today.  However, his love and dedication to liberty allows me to write this account in 2013.  Though I can't read music, shoot a rifle or design catapults I CAN write about liberty and those who made it possible. The life of Russ McCullough, Jr. was part of that mosaic of sacrifice and dedication.  Thanks, Dad!  Happy Independence Day.