books

A review of A Travelogue To Life, By Incidents and Accidents, by Colonel Lee Bizzell…

I grew up in Gloucester, Virginia. My parents moved there in June 1980, the day after I turned 8. I remember the day we moved to that rural county, and what a huge culture shock that was to me. Prior to living in Gloucester, I had memories of living in England, at Mildenhall Air Force Base, and Fairfax County, a Washington, DC suburb in northern Virginia. Gloucester was, by comparison to those internationally leaning places, very foreign to me. However, I am actually a native of the Tidewater region of Virginia, so the reality is, moving to Gloucester was kind of like moving home.

My parents opened their business, The Corner Cottage, just after we moved to Gloucester. They bought the house from a man named named Ellis Smith, who operated a custom picture framing business. Dad, likewise, continued operating a custom picture framing business and art gallery, and soon after, my mom opened her own business. She sold cross stitch supplies at first, but then expanded to knitting and needlework supplies. She also taught countless people– mostly middle aged women– how to do needle crafts.

I never had any interest in doing needle crafts myself, and have neither talent nor patience for any of it. But, because my parents opened their business, I grew up just across business Route 17. Every day, I gazed across the four lane highway at the beautiful imposing estate sitting atop a gentle hillside on the other side of the highway. The mysterious white house always inspired my imagination. Below are some screenshots of my house versus the estate…

Nowadays, there are many Facebook pages and groups that celebrate places around the globe. Virginia, and Gloucester County itself, are no exceptions. Gloucester is home to many beautiful old homes that were once plantations. It’s also the birthplace of Pocahontas and Dr. Walter Reed, a famous Army physician who was instrumental in discovering how yellow fever is spread. Walter Reed’s name adorns the local hospital in Gloucester, as well as the premier Army hospital in Washington, DC.

I noticed that people who drove through Gloucester kept sharing photos on Facebook of the beautiful old house across Business Route 17, that was just across from where I grew up. I never knew the people who lived in that house, although they were technically our neighbors. The house was lived in back in 1980, but today, it’s just a decaying shell of its former glory. I’ve noticed from Google Earth photos that a housing development has sprung up by the old mansion. That makes me sad, because the housing looks out of place next to that grand home that is still gorgeous, in spite of its state of disrepair. See below…

The people who shared the photos of that house kept asking about it. They wanted to know the place’s history, and who owns it now. Many people wish that someone would buy it and renovate it to its former glory. I got curious about the house myself, so I did some research. I discovered that the home was owned by Colonel Lee Caraway Bizzell, who died on February 10, 1994.

Somehow, I also learned that the colonel had penned a book titled A Travelogue To Life, By Incidents and Accidents. I searched Amazon.com, and sure enough, found a used copy of Colonel Bizzell’s book for sale by a North Carolina book shop. I eagerly ordered the book, and it arrived a few weeks ago.

I mentioned the book on Facebook, and one of my former classmates and neighbors in Gloucester was shocked. She knew Colonel Bizzell, as he was a frequent patron of her grandmother’s restaurant, which was located within walking distance of my house. I expect that the colonel could have also walked there, although he would have had to cross busy Route 17. My old friend posted that Colonel Bizzell was a very nice man. She had waited on him many times at Sutton’s, her grandmother’s beloved, and now long defunct, restaurant.

If you are a reader of my main blog, you might know that for the past few weeks, I’ve been slogging through a fascinating book about the former East Germany. I finally finished that book the other day, so yesterday afternoon, I decided to read Colonel Bizzell’s book. It’s only 89 pages, so it was a quick and easy read.

I got a kick out of reading A Travelogue To Life, By Incidents and Accidents. I had heard that Colonel Bizzell had been an Army veteran and big game hunter. I’m not a fan of big game/trophy hunting, but I kept in mind that Bizzell published his book in 1991, when he was 98 years old! People had far fewer moral issues with hunting when Bizzell was a young man.

Colonel Bizzell was born November 11, 1892, in Tate County, Mississippi, the last of 13 children. His father was in his sixties when Bizzell was born, while his mother was 45 years old. A few years after Bizzell was born, his father’s health failed, and he died. Bizzell points out that his father had been a Confederate soldier who was captured at Lookout Mountain. He’d married Bizzell’s mother when he was 38 years old, and his mother was only 19. He also wrote that in the year 1991, his father had been born 164 years prior! That was a mind blower for me.

From the beginning of the book, Colonel Bizzell makes it plain that he wants to inspire readers to become Christians. He, himself, was not a devout Christian until 1954, when he was 61 years old. In his 37 years in the Army, Bizzell spent his military career serving all over the country and in several countries. He was the father of a son, who died at age 29 in 1953, as well as an infant daughter who died in 1927. He does not mention his daughter in the book; I discovered her when I found Bizzell’s obituary on Find A Grave. However, he does mention his son, and how devastated he was when he found out about his namesake’s passing in Washington State.

Colonel Bizzell also writes lovingly of his wives. He was married to the late Clara Mae McCarron for 41 years. Sadly, she succumbed to head injuries sustained in a car accident. Colonel Bizzell writes a bit about what happened in that accident, which occurred when they were going to Florida to visit her mother, who was dying. He later married Kathryn Jarvis, a fellow attendee of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Harcum, Virginia, where Bizzell and his first wife had been enthusiastic members. Unfortunately, in 1981, after 14.5 years of marriage, Kathryn, who was 26 years younger than Colonel Bizzell was, developed stomach cancer. She was 63 years old when she died at Riverside Regional Medical Center in Newport News, Virginia. At that time, the hospital was known simply as Riverside Hospital.

I had hoped to read more about the gorgeous house, across the highway from my house, that Bizzell and his first wife purchased after he retired from the Army. He wrote that they had almost passed on purchasing the house, because it was priced higher than he thought it was worth. The house dates from the 1700s and, even back when Bizzell was looking to buy it, was in need of many expensive repairs. Bizzell wrote that he and Clara Mae were on their way to South Carolina to look for a house when they changed their minds and drove back to Richmond to make an offer. They offered the previous owner less than he was asking, given that they would need to make extensive repairs, and the man accepted.

Unfortunately, Bizzell’s stories are frustratingly brief and lacking in detail. He only devoted a couple of pages to his acquisition of his beautiful house, from which he operated an antique business for many years. The business specialized in Persian rugs and porcelain, and Bizzell wrote that it never turned a profit. However, he was able to go to New York City for antique shows to buy high quality items from The Orient. Colonel Bizzell did mention that the construction of Bypass Route 17 did cause his business to suffer significantly. I can only imagine how disruptive it was.

Our own house had what was obviously a front door turned into a window, because the highway rendered the door obsolete. The window has since been covered up by the current owner, who worked for my dad for many years before buying the business. Our old house was built in 1949, many years before business Route 17 ever existed.

Aside from writing about his family and business, Bizzell includes some interesting stories about his many military assignments and travels he enjoyed because of that career choice. He lived in The Philippines, and when that tour was finished, took the “long way” back to the United States by a series of ships. He also served in both World Wars, and spent time in France and Germany. He even did duty in Wiesbaden and Stuttgart, two places dear to my heart.

In 1984, when he was 91 years old, Colonel Bizzell left his estate to the Southern Baptist Foreign Mission Board. He mentions in his book that he received an annuity for the property, which I assume must have become the church’s property when the colonel died in 1994. I wonder what Colonel Bizzell would think about the state of the world today, given that he served in both World Wars. Colonel Bizzell is buried next to his first wife, Clara Mae, at Arlington National Cemetery. Kathryn is buried at the cemetery at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Harcum, since Arlington National Cemetery does not allow more than one spouse to be buried next to a qualifying veteran.

Colonel Bizzell’s book is not the most professionally written book I’ve ever read. He writes in the acknowledgments that he was assisted by a couple of Gloucester ladies who typed and edited the book for him. They did a decent job for amateurs, but I was reminded more than once that this was not exactly award winning writing by someone who does it for a living. There are some misspellings and wrong word choices. However, if you are from Gloucester, Virginia, and you are old enough to remember times there from decades past, this book is well worth the effort. It’s a quick read, and it details a man’s fascinating, long, historic life. I know he was much beloved and respected in Gloucester, even if I never got to meet him myself.

I wish the book had been a little bit longer on details, yet more organized. Bizzell has some amazing stories, and seems to be trying to point out that the Lord saved him many times from situations that should have killed him. However, the book lacks that flow. He didn’t streamline the writing to tie in the stories with his testimony. On the other hand, the stories themselves are pretty entertaining and exotic, and most readers would probably prefer them to the message that they should be Southern Baptists. 😀

Anyway, I have to tip my hat to Colonel Bizzell. He lived a remarkable life, achieved great things, and affected many people in a positive way. And that beautiful home that he and Clara Mae purchased, after his Army career finished, continues to enchant and intrigue people, 31 years after Colonel Bizzell’s life ended. For that reason alone, I would recommend his book to the interested. My husband, Bill, is not from Gloucester, but I’ve even recommended the book to him, since he’s also an Army veteran.

Buy A Travelogue To Life from Amazon.com.

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Hessen

I survived another winter in Wiesbaden…

I don’t have much to write about today, as Bill is on another one of his TDYs to Bavaria, and I’m here alone, pondering the future and whether or not I want to be part of it. I have come to hate March in Wiesbaden, because it pretty much means I’m going to be alone for a good portion of the month. The weather tends to be psycho, too… although today, we have very nice temperatures and sunshine.

I decided to take some photos around the neighborhood. It usually cheers me up to see the beginnings of spring, as the first flowers start to bloom. One thing I do love about life in Germany is that so many people are great at gardening. I love to see the vibrant colors and smell the fragrances of fresh blooms. Pretty soon, we’ll be in the thick of nice weather again, and hopefully that will improve my outlook on things. But for now, I do still at least have the pictures.

Below are some neighborhood shots I’ve taken over the past few days, hence the different skies. Notice the local church is celebrating a birthday. I like the daffodils; they remind me of my hometown, an unofficial “Daffodil Capital of America”.

Eleven more days of this solitary lifestyle. Hopefully, things will be more exciting then.

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Uncategorized

Natural Bridge and Lexington circa 1957

As seen on my main blog…  Sorry for the rerun, but this blog is read by different people than the main blog is.

A very interesting film made in 1957 about my family’s American home… Special thanks to my friend, Joann, for posting this fascinating video about Natural Bridge and Lexington, Virginia.  

 

I have mentioned before that I come from Virginia. My family has been in Virginia since the early 1700s.  The earliest relative I’ve found in Virginia was a man named Johann Tolley, who came to Virginia from Hamburg, Germany.

Johann Tolley evidently fathered the people in my family who eventually settled in Rockbridge County.  Rockbridge County is kind of in the west central part of the state, in the Shenandoah Valley and Blue Ridge Mountains.  Although I have been visiting Natural Bridge and its environs my whole life, I did not grow up there myself.  I was born and mostly raised not far from Williamsburg and Jamestown, Virginia, clear across the state.

Because my dad was an Air Force officer, the family he made with my mother was nomadic.  My parents spent the first 24 years of their marriage moving to different towns, mostly in the southern United States, but occasionally in other countries.  I was born during their fourteenth year of marriage, so I missed a lot of the moves and didn’t have any sense until the bitter end of my dad’s military career.

The one place that has always been a constant in my life has been Natural Bridge.  I’m pretty sure my family has lived in the same creekside house since at least the 1940s.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen when my aunt and uncle pass on.  I hope someone in the family will keep the house.  It’s a special place that is mostly full of wonderful memories.

Granny’s house… where my dad grew up.  There is a creek that runs in front of the house and another one that runs perpendicular to it on the left.

Down by the creek…

After a rare November snow in 2014… when I last visited.

Another shot up the hill.  I pray this house never leaves our family.  The street it’s on was named after my grandfather.

My family as of 2014.  Sadly, a couple of the people in the photo are no longer with us.  I think we’re missing about twenty people, too.  The Mormons have nothing on us.

 

The family church, High Bridge Presbyterian.  This is where we held my dad’s memorial service.

 

Many of my relatives are buried here, including my dad, who was moved about two years after he was initially buried at Granny’s house.

 

Goshen Pass, which is very close to Lexington and where Bill and I honeymooned…  It’s also kind of where we fell in love, the weekend before 9/11.  That’s another story, though.

My friend, Joann, who originally posted the above video, lives in Lexington, Virginia.  Lexington is about ten miles from Natural Bridge.  It has sort of a special place in my heart because not only is a super cute town, it’s also where many of my family members went to college or worked. It’s also where Bill and I got married in 2002.  Before the area was taken over by transplants from up north and out west, it was mostly settled by Scots-Irish Presbyterians.  According to 23 and Me, that is surely enough the lion’s share of my genetic makeup.  I was raised Presbyterian, too.

The video is interesting viewing for me, since my parents who are/were both from that area got married the year it was made.  Mom was 19 and Dad was 24.  They had lived in Rockbridge County their whole lives.  My dad finished his degree at Virginia Military Institute in 1956 and immediately became an Air Force officer.  The following year, he married my mom and they left the area for good, only to come back for visits.  My dad is now buried in the graveyard at the family church.  Originally,  he was buried on a hillside at the house where he grew up with his eight brothers and sisters, but my mom had him moved.  I guess she realized that house might not always be in family hands.

Another reason why that video is interesting is because it basically reflects the ethos of the 1950s.  The story is told from the Natural Bridge’s viewpoint.  It explains how the area used to be populated by “red men”, also known as Native Americans.  The Bridge explains that it tried to explain to the natives that it was created by God.  Alas, they worshiped the Bridge as a Pagan God, even though the Bridge tried to explain that it was the Christian God who created it.  The Bridge sounds almost grateful as it explains that white Christian settlers eventually moved into the area in 1737.  The white Christians “got it right’.  (I’m being facetious, here.)

Based on the video, a lot of great people came from Rockbridge County.  Even Sam Houston, who eventually went on to be the namesake of Houston, Texas, was born in Rockbridge County.  I never knew that.  It’s actually pretty interesting, given the impact Sam Houston had in Texas.  In fact, reading about Sam Houston is uniquely fascinating, given his family history in Scotland and Ireland.  I was just in Northern Ireland a few months ago and we stopped in Larne.  There is a plaque there commemorating the history of the Houston family before they moved to Virginia.

Sam Houston also moved on the Maryville, Tennesee when he was fourteen years old.  I have not been to Maryville, but I do have a couple of friends who attended Maryville College and one who moved back to the town after she retired from teaching at my alma mater, Longwood University.  I also lived in Texas for a year… and Bill spent several years there and graduated high school in Houston.  I’m amazed at how all of these places are interconnected with Rockbridge County, which even today is still pretty rural.  Although a lot of new people have moved there, there is still a core of people descended from the original settlers.

I’m not sure why, but somehow when I was growing up, I never realized or appreciated the deep connection my family has to Virginia, especially Rockbridge County.  I think it’s because I was a military brat, even though I spent most of my growing up years in Gloucester County.  Gloucester is another one of those places where people settled and stayed, much like Rockbridge County is.

There were several last names there that would always come up at roll call in school.  A lot of them were the children of people from England who had stayed after the Revolutionary War, which was won in nearby Yorktown.  In the early 80s, Gloucester was still so rural that people who moved there were “come heres” and never really got the sense of community that the locals had.  My parents owned at house in Gloucester for about 30 years, but it still doesn’t seem like home, even though it’s probably the one place in the world where I feel sure I could get help immediately if I ever needed it.  I still have a lot of friends who live there.

I didn’t appreciate Virginia when I was younger.  I used to fantasize about moving somewhere else, where the people and the scenery were different.  Now, as much as I like Germany, I’m starting to think about going “home” to Virginia.  Maybe I would only go there to visit, though… I’m not sure if I want to die in my home state or even if circumstances will allow it.

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