Today is the 165th birthday of my grandfather, Benjamin Wilson Baird. He was an interesting man. Born while James Buchanan was president of the United States he was the youngest son of Lt. William Baird. William, as a father of several children did not join the Confederate army, the 53rd Georgia Infantry, until 1863. He was wounded badly in the shoulder as he crossed a fence at the horrific Battle of the Wilderness on May 4, 1864. After a long stay in hospitals in Richmond during the war he made it home to his family in Georgia, but was an invalid for the rest of his life. Wilse was the son who eventually stayed home to care for the farm. In 1902, at 42 years of age Wilse finally got around to getting married -- to my 18-year-old future grandmother. Together they would have eleven children. The eleventh, Ruth, would grow up to become my mother.
Other than my maternal cousins and my siblings I know of only one of my friends who can claim a pre-Civil War grandparent (George Barton) -- are there others?
One of my favorite stories about Papa, who died 15 years before I was born: As a lay Methodist pastor he was sought out for advice by a young nephew who was feeling a call to ministry. He told my cousin: "Son, remember, you can't scare folks into the kingdom, you have to love 'em into it." I wish more present-day evangelicals would follow that admonition
