An odd fact in my family history: I know precisely where my great-great-grandfather was one hundred years ago today.
On the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of July, 1913, the US government sponsored a "Civil War Veterans Reunion," on the grounds of Gettysburg National Battlefield. All veterans from both sides were invited.
These now-old men stayed in huge barracks tents and spent three days attending staged events, participating in (carefully planned!) re-enactments, and most of all, meeting up with their former comrades-in-arms.
As it happens, my GG-Grandfather never lost touch with the survivors from his unit: they all came from the same small area in upstate New York. Most of them were farmboys, with a few - the son of the general store owner, a schoolteacher, the son of the local doctor - other fields represented.
They came of age late in the war, and most of them came home again, though not all of them unscathed. Two of GG-Grampa's best friends had each lost a leg. He himself was shot somewhere in his abdomen, a wound which troubled him the rest of his life.
That they were more fortunate than so many of their fellow soldiers is without question - and they paid homage to those who'd made the greatest sacrifice while at the great reunion.
My family has a few photos taken over the course of those three days in 1913. The only copy I've come up with is this one:
Great-great-grampa is in the back left of these four men - he's the one in the straw boater. These four had grown up together and remained friends their entire lives; I suspect when the announcement was made of the grand reunion, they knew it was an opportunity not to be missed.
So a curious fact: yes, I happen to know where the old man was one hundred years ago today...
Have a good'un, Sparklers - carpe diem!