Some sunny day

[david]

We’ll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day

These lyrics are familiar to nearly everyone of a certain age. Most famously performed by their writer, Vera Lynn, this World War II classic resonates for me – despite the fact that as a baby boomer, I wasn’t born until 9 years after it was composed in England and after the war had ended.

The lyrics, of course, depict a scene repeated millions of times. Lovers, family members, classmates, friends and neighbors were torn apart by the winds of war; the future was uncertain.

Unstated, but obvious between the lines is a recognition that the reunion to be held “some sunny day” might very well have to take place in the afterlife – who knows where, who knows when.

Recognizing that the song – and the World War – both came on the scene before I did gave me pause. Is my TIME LINE as finite as it seems on first glance? Can my span truly be limited to events taking place on or after September 16, 1948? And will my influence and at least nominal participation in future events be cut off at the instant of my death.

Of course not. We bring ancestors and friends who are no longer with us back to life every time we mention their names, every time we think of them, and every time we feel their influence.

In a real sense, every descendant is a continuation of our TIME LINE just as we extend those of our ancestors.

On March 5, 1862 a group of Friends gathered at the Muncy Meeting House in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania. Quakers had settled that region 75 years earlier.

The assembly gathered to worship, and to witness the marriage of Sarah Elizabeth Warner, known as “Sally,” to Joseph Reece Whitacre.

In the custom of the Friends, no minister presided or declared the couple to be man and wife. An entry was made into the church records and the couple was issued a certificate.

The journal entry reads (in part):

Having declared their intentions of Marriage with each other ... the Said Joseph R. Whitacre and Sarah E. Warner appeared in a publick Meeting ... held at their Meeting House in Muncy Township Lycoming County and the Said Joseph R. Whitacre taking the Said Sarah R. Warner by the hand did on this Solemn occasion firmly declare that he took the Said Sarah E. Warner to be his wife promising with divine assistance to be unto Her a loving and faithful husband until death Should Separate them. And, in the Same assembly, the Said Sarah E. Warner did in like manner declare that She took Him the Said Joseph R. Whitacre to be her Husband promising with divine assistance to be unto him a loving and faithful wife until death Shall Separate them.

On the following page are the signatures of 67 members of the congregation, including 8 Whitacres and 13 Warners.

Joseph, having been born in 1836, was 25 at the time of his wedding. He had 9 brothers and sisters including Robert, 11. Eleven years later Robert married Emma Warner, one of Sarah’s cousins.

Robert and Emma, as you may have guessed, were two of my Great Grandparents, the people who brought my mean grandfather into the world.

The preamble to my TIME LINE, of course, extends back even farther...

Joseph and Robert’s father was Edward, born in 1804. His father (my Great, Great, Great Grandfather) was an earlier Joseph whose father and grandfather were more Roberts (senior and junior). The first of these was born in 1706.

Robert Sr’s dad, John, was the first American Whitacre. He lived half his life in England and half in the colonies (no United States back then, of course). He crossed the Atlantic in 1699 and lived to the age of 82.

This man is my Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Grandfather. And perhaps something he did or said has been transferred, along with his DNA, to me over the centuries.

Of course, John is only one of 256 Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Grandparents. Surely some of the experiences and ideas that were part of them live on in me.

What a shame that none of my early ancestors seem to have written their story for future generations. My parents made an effort. But my father only completed half of his autobiography. Ironically, his written account ends just before I was born.

There are no known complete autobiographies from my family tree, but one writing sample, a gem, remains intact. My mother found two letters exchanged by cousins who attended the aforementioned wedding of two of my great-grandparents.

Hannah Smedley wrote: “Sallie was dressed in white and looked sweeter then ever, and the ceremony was never better said by anyone I don't think.

“When we got home from meeting we had to change our dresses ready to wait on table. We had more fun waiting tables then all the rest of the company.

“We expected to find the gentleman real backwoodsman but I tell you they are perfect gentleman and so polite and kind and entertaining and very lively, why Rich Ecroyd kept us laughing all the time.

“Wedding afternoon was spent very pleasantly chatting & etc but we had not much afternoon as it was nearly four when we got through with dinner.”

Elizabeth Whitacre described the ceremony: “Sallie seemed to feel pretty badly, but by the time Joe had his glove off she was prepared and I never heard a couple speak better.


“Sallie particularly spoke so distinctly and did not fail at all. As soon as Thomas Mendenhall had finished the certificate we all marched out and were soon back home. Had not been gone an hour hardly.”

Hannah’s remarks remind me of how comfortable and at ease I feel when I meet relatives; and she reminds me of how meals can stretch out for hours as everyone lingers at the table – all together in a ring of relatives.

And Elizabeth’s description of the ceremony brings to mind the place rituals and traditions hold in families.

Is Joe and Sally’s wedding part of my TIME LINE? Reading these accounts makes me feel that it is.

And I feel connected to that couple – though they are not direct ancestors. I suspect that one of their descendents – or one of Hannah’s or Elizabeth’s – would put me in that family comfort zone and we’d end up spending hours at the dinner table – discovering that we have much in common.

I wonder if, on that “sunny day,” we’ll not only meet again with those we’ve known during our own TIME LINE, but whether we’ll also meet those whom we’ve never known but who have made us into the people we are.

So will you please say hello
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won’t be long.
They’ll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song