Courtesy of Iron Brigadier

Those are the first three words of a song that my mom taught me when I was very young. It was taught to her when she was very young. I’m not sure how Granddad learned it.

The verse I remember most well is the first one and it goes like this:

We’re tenting tonight on the old campground

Give us a song to cheer

Our weary hearts

A song of hope and friends we love so dear

Many are the hearts that are weary tonight

Wishing for the war to cease

Many are the hearts that are hoping for the right

To see the dawn of peace

Tenting tonight

Tenting tonight

Tenting on the old campground

You can listen to it here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZk7r89ewAw

Mom told me it was a Civil War song. And that is what brought it to mind recently.

My husband mentioned something about the Civil War and wondered how long ago it was that the last living survivor of the war had died. He wondered if my Grandmother (meaning my dad’s mom because he never knew my mom’s mom) had ever known anyone who fought in the Civil War.

Albert Woolson was a drummer boy in the Union Army and he was the last authenticated veteran of the Civil War. He died on August 2, 1956 at the age of 109 years. Dad’s mom was born in September of 1894 and died in September of 1983. The Civil war began on April 12, 1861 and ended on April 9, 1865. So it is entirely possible that she might have known a veteran of that war.

This also got me to thinking about Mom’s mom, Daisy Mae Baringer. She was older than Dad’s mom. She spent 22 years making babies. My mom was the last of nine children. Grandma Daisy was 18 years old when she had the oldest and 40 years old when she had my mom. Daisy Mae was born on May 30, 1883 and died in December of 1969. Grandpa Baringer was significantly older than Daisy. If I’d paid better attention to my sister or not lost track of the family tree she so laboriously put together, I might know his exact date of birth. But I’ll guess he was maybe ten years older putting his birth year at 1873. That would be just eight years after the Civil War ended. My Granddad. Born so close to the end of the war. One generation between me and him.

When I think about the Civil War, it feels like it was eons and eons ago. And it seems like such a “primitive” time. But it’s said that even as recently as 1940, only about half the houses in the United States had hot piped water and about a third lacked a bathtub, shower or flush toilet. Really, that’s not all that long ago. And yet, here I sit with all my modern conveniences, the product of a woman who grew up in a house with no indoor plumbing and was raised by parents who were directly affected by the results of that war. She was raised by people who most likely heard tales of that war from the very people who directly experienced it.

And here I sit, having in my head a memory of a song from over 158 years ago. And I can’t help but wonder how that war shaped all their lives. How did the World Wars change them? And Korea and Viet Nam?

What’s even weirder for me to think about is that since I was born in 1952, I could have met Albert Woolson.

Do I have a point to all this meandering maundering? Maybe. I don’t know.

It’s just that the passage of time amazes me. It distances us. But it’s still right there with us. Rolling along beside us while we live our lives. Making changes to how we feel and think about ourselves and the world around us.

And it amazes me how one song can bring that all to mind.

Courtesy of Everyday Power