OLD SOLDIERS NEVER DIE by Nancy Shepherdson Garascia [email protected]

A few weeks ago, I had one of those spooky experiences that feels for all the world like guidance from beyond the grave �- and it resulted in locating the grave of my great-great-great- grandfather, Jesse J. DENNIS.

I had already discovered that Jesse J. DENNIS was no ordinary fellow. Because a cousin, Caroll Dressel, had obtained his pension records from the National Archives, we already had a feeling that he was a courageous and stand-up guy. He volunteered for four different companies in three wars: the Cherokee War, the Mexican War, and twice in the Civil War, in which he trained two companies for battle. There is some indication that he planned to volunteer again. His last commander emphatically declared that since he had lost an eye and suffered from rheumatism, he should do no such thing.

One of the only things we couldn't figure out was where Jesse was buried, but Jesse took care of that one day when I wasn't looking for him at all.

I was paging through THE HANDY BOOK FOR GENEALOGISTS for a county courthouse address for another side of the family when my eye was drawn to the Illinois Veterans Home. I knew as soon as I saw it that that is the modern name for the Old Soldiers and Sailors Home where Jesse had died in 1893, so I called to ask whether they had any records of old residents. The woman who answered said, "No, but we have records of the graves of our residents buried on the property."

And there was Jesse. I immediately sent an e-mail to cousin Caroll telling her of my miraculous find. A few days later, I received a response from her:

Oh, my goodness, yes, Jesse wanted us to find him! Your instinct was correct.

Dale, Kevin, and I visited the Illinois Veterans Home last Sunday, a sunny, warm Fall day. The Veterans Home stands on a huge campus and we must have seen every acre trying to find the cemetery. We had to go behind the power plant and over the railroad tracks. It turns out that there is a simple entrance off Highway 24 that leads right up to our ancestor's grave, but we found it the hard way, from the front gate. Maybe we were being tested. We found his section and row and as we left the car, Kevin was whacked in the face by a butterfly. We walked down the row and, almost to the end, Dale and Kevin were milling around and saying we must be in the wrong place when I looked down and saw Jesse's stone. I said "hi" and introduced myself. Jesse J. DENNIS lies eighth from the end of Row 14, on a Hillside, under a huge tree that must have been a sapling when he was laid to rest. It looks like a good place for an old soldier to pass eternity. We left our last little U.S. flag with him. Kevin and I took multitudes of pictures and then it was time to go.

As we left the cemetery I realized I couldn't locate some papers Dale had passed over to me when we visited Jesse. I couldn't find them on me or in my purse or on the floor of the minivan. I wasn't sitting on them. We figured I might have put them down in order to take photos. The papers weren't important, but Dale drove back. There were no papers on the ground. Jesse evidently just wasn't ready for us to go. We took more pictures and I told Kevin more about him. Finally, we said goodbye. On the way back home, Dale said, "Look!" and there was a huge rainbow in all its glory.

Yes, Jesse wanted us to find him, and it appears he likes visits from his "kids." Can't you just imagine that tough old bird standing next to his new flag, saying, "Ya'll come, now!"

The papers turned up in my left trouser pocket.