God Bless the Bairds

Just ran across this photocopy of a photograph of my great grandparents William Baird (sometimes spelled Beard) and Mary M. Marks (Baird). A distant cousin (Aubrey Sims, I think?) sent this to me decades ago. I do not know who owns the original. William served as a Lieutenant in the 53rd Ga Infantry and was put out of action when he was wounded in the left shoulder as he crossed a fence during the horrible Battle Of the Wilderness on May 6, 1864. William was born in Madison Co., Georgia on October 1, 1827 to Thomas Beard and Mary (Polly) Bone. Mary Marks was born May 30, 1824 in Newton Co., Georgia to Henry Marks and Margaret Daniels (Marks).
After the war William continued to farm until he was “afflicted with paralysis” and “shaking palsy” that made work impossible and he became totally dependent “on the kindness of my son”. (from his CSA pension application)
William and Mary’s youngest son, Benjamin Wilson Baird was born April 22, 1860, Georgia seceded from the Union on January 19 of the next year… pretty much completely altering the rest of Wilse Baird’s life. After the war, with an invalid father, and with a mother and invalid sister to also care for, Wilse (Papa) put off marriage till 1902, when he married at age 42 my 18 year old grandmother. Together those two produced eleven children. The eleventh of those children is my 96 year old mother whom I have the great joy of visiting with in person or by phone almost every day in 2019.

So it is safe to say, from the great heartache and suffering of these two, there may have been other great goods, but the great good of the post-war life of Wilse Baird, and the very existence of my wonderful mother and therefore me and my siblings and our offspring would never have happened. One of the fascinations of my life has been the ways that even from disaster and poverty and evil and death, good can spring up like green grass from the cracks of the pavement. Never give up. Keep striving.

The following is by Malvina Reynolds as sung by Pete Seeger:

God bless the grass that grows through the crack.
They roll the concrete over it to try and keep it back.
The concrete gets tired of what it has to do,
It breaks and it buckles and the grass grows thru,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the truth that fights toward the sun,
They roll the lies over it and think that it is done
It moves through the ground and reaches for the air,
And after a while it is growing everywhere,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that breaks through cement,
It's green and its tender and it's easily bent,
But after a while it lifts up its head,
For the grass is living and the stone is dead.
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that's gentle and low
Its roots they are deep and its will is to grow.
And God bless the truth, the friend of the poor,
And the wild grass growing at the poor man's door,
And God bless the grass