A family story to share

 

Earlier this week, on April 15, I noted a family milestone and it had nothing to do with taxes.

Thomas Jefferson Lewis, my great-great-grandfather was born on that day in 1850.  Before we get to him, I want to share about one of his sons, Paul Lewis, who played a role in my lifelong interest in family history.

 

Thomas Jefferson Lewis Sr with his wife, early 1920's (he died in 1925

I met the man just once but our time together has proved to be significant,

and has steered the course of my life into the past. At a multi-generational

family reunion where the stories flowed faster than the creek waters beside our

pavilion and fried chicken filled our bellies, my great-great uncle Paul, my

great-grandfathers brother, fired my imagination and set me on a path leading

backward into history. At the time, he was one of the oldest living members of

the Lewis family, my maternal grandmothers family and when my mother introduced

us, he told her to leave me with him for a while. So, she did.

 

I don’t know what he saw in me that day that was any different than the

dozen or more other children running around the park, but I sat on the grass at

his feet and listened as he talked about the family history. Although I don’t

recall every word he said, I do remember much of what he said. He talked about

his father who had been acting sheriff of Buchanan County when outlaw Jesse

James died, and about his grandparents who made the pioneer trek into Missouri.

 

They were headed for California when they ended up in St. Joseph, Missouri but

when their seventh son, Thomas Jefferson Lewis, made his appearance on April 15,

1850, they stayed. Maybe it was originally for the season, and maybe not, but

they settled down and put their roots into Missouri soil.

By the time they reached St. Joe, the Lewis family had already trekked

across the ocean from Belfast to the colony of Virginia. They homesteaded there

long before the American Revolution but when that war erupted, they fought for

the fledgling nation and some of my ancestor died for it as well. As the years

passed and the country expanded westward, they moved into Kentucky, and lived

there for a few generations before packing up once more to spend some time in

Sangamon County, Illinois. From there, they were bound for California (or some

say it might have been Oregon) but they stopped in St. Joe.

 

Uncle Paul’s stories fired my imagination. At nine, I already had a

passion for the past. When other little girls played house, I preferred to take

it a step farther and play what I called olden days or wagon train. When I learned my own

folks had been pioneers a few generations back, I was hooked for a lifetime of

pursuing genealogy.

 

From the few scraps of information I inherited, over the years I’ve traced

the Lewis family line back into the 1700s. Their story is a rich historical

tapestry filled with triumphs and tragedies, a personal version of the American

story.

 

A few years ago, when my daughters and I made a trek to northern Virginia, we passed through the country where my ancestors first settled in the New World. I delighted in viewing the country they called home and trying to imagine it as it once was.

During our travels, we came across many highways designated as memorials

in several states. In Virginia, we found ourselves traveling down the John

Lewis Memorial Highway, then also on the Andrew Lewis Memorial Highway. John

Lewis is a direct ancestor of ours and Andrew is his brother. We passed

through Lewis County in Virginia, also named for another of our Lewis kin. As

the saying goes, I felt like I was walking in tall cotton that day.

 

My maternal grandfather also came from Virginia but from the southwest

corner of the state. Other ancestors on various branches of my family tree also

have a connection to Virginia or one of the other states we traveled through in

the region.

 

The Lewis history is far too detailed and diverse to share in a single

column but my Missouri branch began in April 1950, when my great-great

grandfather was born in St. Joseph, Missouri to pioneers who decided they’d come 

far enough.