Those of you who’ve followed my blog for a while may remember one of my first blog posts about a young soldier who was killed in action during the Vietnam War. In honor of Memorial Day, I want to revisit that post and add some things I have since learned about Jerry Davis since I wrote it.

I had not been a Find a Grave photo volunteer for long when I took the request to photograph his grave. Jerry is buried in Melwood Cemetery in Stone Mountain, Ga. At that time, I’d never been to Melwood before, although I have passed it many times. I was a little nervous because big cemeteries then intimidated me. That’s no longer the case but it was true then.

Fortunately, while Melwood is indeed large, it is still locally owned, not bought out by a large chain (yet). The ladies in the office were more than happy to locate Jerry’s grave for me and one of them even drove over to it (with me following in my car) so I could see exactly where it was. He is buried beside his parents.

Thanks to Facebook, I was able to reach out to the folks of Tucker and ask if they’d known Jerry in their youth. Turns out, quite a few had and remembered him well.

Stephen Smith, a Tucker resident who served for two years in Vietnam and 20 years in the U.S. Air Force, was a friend of Jerry’s for many years. He posted on Facebook: “I went to school with Jerry, Tucker Elementary and Tucker High. In elementary school, he helped me raise and lower the American Flag each day and fold it and lay it in the office.”

As a little girl, Donna England Dahlgren remembered Jerry as he helped her and her classmates cross the street every day. “He was a patrol who helped us cross the street walking to school when I was in the fourth grade,” she shared.

Donny Hammond (who has since passed away) also knew Jerry and left a comment. “I met Jerry before we moved to Tucker in about 1959, 1960 at Twin Brothers Lake . He liked to fish as much as I did. My brother and I would go just about every Saturday if we had the cash , Jerry and his brother did the same. His parents owned Davis Sheet Metal Works. He was very quiet and kept to himself. He also like most of us boys loved fast cars.”

According to Jerry’s Find a Grave memorial, he wasn’t even 20 yet when he enlisted in March 1966. He chose the United States Marines, a branch of the armed services noted for its toughness of character. Looking at his picture, I wonder what was going through his mind before he left everything he knew behind in a small Georgia town for an uncertain future thousands of miles away.

After he arrived in Vietnam, Jerry was assigned to Company B, 1st Battalion, 7th Marines, 1st MAR DIV (Rein) FMF. Records indicate he was an antitank assaultman. He had only been in Vietnam a few days when his life was taken by the enemy.

Jerry’s memorial explains how he died. “Near the Hoa Ham hamlet in Dai Loc District a LP (Listening Post) inside the Company perimeter wire, [Davis] received an incoming grenade and five rounds of small arms fire resulting in LCpl Davis being killed in action by the enemy rifle fire.”

By looking on Ancestry.com, I discovered that Jerry’s older brother died in 1965. He wasn’t in the military. I didn’t know the cause of his death back then but Jerry Head solved that mystery for me with a comment he left on Facebook: “We lived across the street from Jerry, Eddie and Diane [their sister]. Eddie was killed in a car wreck, I believe it was on Frazer Road, not far from their Grandma.”

Eddie was only 23 when he died. I wonder if he and Jerry played “war” as kids in the backyard. When they got older, did they talk about enlisting together? Or was it Jerry’s dream alone to become a Marine?

Stephen Smith was rocked by the news of Jerry’s death. “We were such good friends, my parents would not tell me he had gotten killed until I got back.”

When I was single, Jerry’s story wouldn’t have touched me as deeply. Because now I have a son myself, even though he’s only eight. But motherhood changes the lens through which you view life. If I knew my son was only going to live to the age of 20 and end up being shot to death halfway around the world, it would tear me to pieces.

I think of Jerry’s mother, Martha, as she watched her sons grow from little boys into young men. What did she say when Jerry told her he wanted to enlist? I picture her at his funeral, accepting the flag of our country. Having now lost both of her sons within a two-year period, one in a car accident and another in battle, her heart had to be broken.

I wish I could have met Martha. I would tell her, from one mother to another, that I’m sorry both of her boys died so young. That Jerry’s death in combat was not in vain, that his life did mean something. He was not just a casualty number on a blackboard.

And now, I would also tell her that Jerry is still fondly remembered by his friends from the Tucker High School Class of 1965. He lives in their hearts and memories forever. They know his story and will never forget it.

I hope you won’t either.

One of the first cemeteries I visited after becoming a Find a Grave volunteer was Dunwoody’s New Hope Cemetery. It’s hard to find unless you know that it’s located behind a KinderCare on Chamblee-Dunwoody Road. Like the Stephen Martin Cemetery near Perimeter Mall, New Hope Cemetery’s care is overseen by by the Dunwoody Preservation Trust (DPT).

The juxtaposition of a cemetery with a daycare center may seem a bit strange. But it’s actually not so strange when you realize that just as life is beginning for some, it’s already ended for others.

On that first visit (probably spring 2013), the cemetery seemed well hidden amid the trees, a pleasant retreat amid the honking cars in Dunwoody Village. It was comforting to hear the excited chatter of little kids playing just over the fence. Later in June, a tornado toppled some of those old hardy trees and made quite a mess.

Unfortunately, the work crew hired to remove the debris used equipment that was too big for the size of the cemetery and ended up knocking over some or the markers and damaging some grave sites. Needless to say, many families with loved ones buried there were not happy. A group that included descendants, Boy Scouts, nearby residents and even employees of a neighboring real estate group gathered in May 2014 for a clean up day.

When I went back a few weeks ago, the feel of the place had changed a bit. The trees toppled by the tornado had been removed so it wasn’t nearly as shady. But considering the photos I saw on the DPT site showing the damage the tornado caused, it looked pretty good. The laughter of children was drifting through the air again.

I did notice that a number of monuments that were upright back in 2013 are now face down or off of their bases. I don’t know if all of it was caused by the tornado/debris removal equipment, but it is expensive work to get these kinds of old stones upright and properly reattached. You can’t just glue them back on and walk away.

According to a Dunwoody Crier article, Providence Baptist Church was established close to this site in 1852 and members gathered in a slave-built log cabin. Some time after the Civil War, members settled on a location more central to Sandy Springs and Dunwoody so the Providence congregation moved near the intersection of Mount Vernon Road and Glenridge Drive.

While New Hope Presbyterian Church was built on the current property around 1887, burials started taking place in 1859. The cemetery’s land was formally donated to the church by the Duke family for that purpose according to an 1888 deed. Dr. Warren M. Duke was buried there in 1902. The church disbanded in 1917 but the cemetery that bears its name remains.

Having now visited three other Dunwoody cemeteries, I saw that the same names are evident here as well: Ball, Brown, Carpenter, Copeland, Cheek, Spruill.

Thanks to a memorial written by fellow Find a Grave volunteer Chryse Wayman, I learned that some of the graves at New Hope Cemetery bear witness to a tragedy that rocked the community. The lives of three men ended on the day before Thanksgiving in 1920 when a steam boiler at the Dunwoody Milling Company exploded.

Graham Spruill (30), John O’Shields (44), and John W. Manning (48) all left behind wives and children. Graham’s brother, Bency, was injured but survived.

Located on Mount Vernon Road where a car wash now sits, the plant contained a flour mill, lumber mill and a ginnery. Parts of the boiler were found a half mile from the scene. The explosion’s cause was never determined. The mill was owned by Joberry Cheek, who is also buried at New Hope Cemetery.

After my recent post on Ebenezer Primitive Baptist Church, a sweet lady by the name of Freda Donaldson Williams left a comment on the blog about her great-grandmother, Tavie (short for Octavia) Wade Adams. Tavie is buried at New Hope Cemetery along with her mother (Freda’s great-great-grandmother), Malissia Ellen Poss Wade.

Freda shared that Tavie died in 1920 when Freda’s grandmother was only six years old, leaving the family to fend for themselves. Malissia had only died a few months before that.

When I visited New Hope Cemetery, I made sure to look for both Tavie and Malissia’s graves. I did find Malissia’s but Tavie’s marker appears to have toppled from its base. I did not lift it up for fear of causing further damage.

One of the more elaborate markers at New Hope Cemetery is for Larkin E. Copeland (spelled Copland on the stone). He was a farmer and at some point owned a store. It features a broken column and a Masonic emblem. Usually, a broken column means a life cut short. But in freemasonry, it is also meant to represent both the fall of Master Hiram Abiff as well as the unfinished work of the Temple of Solomon. I know little about the Masons but you can read about it here.

Finally, there is a stone for two children close to the front gates that I suspect is not where their graves are actually located. According to the stone, Lillian May Love was born and died on August 13, 1902. Her brother, Willie Love, was born Sept. 21, 1903 and died Nov. 10, 1904. Both were children of William and Mary Love, for whom there are no markers in the cemetery.

Considering the fact that children today come to this spot to laugh and play is both sad and uplifting at the same time. Even in the face of death, life does go on.

So the next time you’re in Dunwoody Village and you need a little break from the gridlock, walk over to New Hope Cemetery and make yourself at home on a bench.

The laughter of the children will greet you at the gate.

Come Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of God’s unchanging love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I’m come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

These words are from an old hymn called “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”, written by British pastor Robert Robinson in 1757. It’s one of my favorites. But there’s always been one part I didn’t understand and that was “Here I raise my Ebenezer”. What’s an Ebenezer and why would anyone raise it?

I hadn’t thought about that hymn in years until I pulled up outside Ebenezer Primitive Baptist Church at the busy intersection of Spalding Drive and Dunwoody Club Drive. Established in 1829, it’s the oldest church in Dunwoody.

Over the years, Ebenezer has had four different church buildings. The first sat diagonally across the road from where the church stands today, which is built on the foundation of the third church. The story goes that Confederate soldiers burned a bridge over the nearby Chattahoochee River to keep Union soldiers at bay. Union soldiers took boards from that first church to build a pontoon bridge.

Ebenezer still holds Sunday services but membership has dwindled in recent years. A new pastor,  Gus Harter, recently arrived after serving over 30 years as pastor of Bethany Primitive Baptist Church in Suwanee. He’s hoping to breathe new life into the church.

Unlike Stephen Martin Cemetery, Ebenezer is quite visible to the legion of cars that navigate this intersection daily. The church has a newer sign out front but I found myself drawn to the old one that’s leaning against the back of one of the old buildings behind the church.

Some websites say that the town’s namesake, Major Charles Archibald Dunwoody, is buried here. That’s probably because a memorial marker was donated in 2003 by the Sons of Confederate Veterans to commemorate his importance. But Major Dunwoody (formerly spelled Dunwody) is actually buried over at Roswell Presbyterian Church Cemetery with his family.

Ebenezer’s cemetery holds about 300 people. Names like Adams, Ball, Carpenter and Beal are common. But the one that stands out the most, with about 50 graves, is Delong (or DeLong). Several generations of the family are buried here.

As the son of South Carolina-born Benjamin and Elizabeth DeLong, James DeLong and his wife, Elizer Jane, raised 12 children in the Dunwoody area. Several are buried at Ebenezer.

In the back corner of the cemetery are some of the oldest graves. Many have been broken or damaged by the ravages of time and weather. The 1998 tornado that came through didn’t help matters. The tallest marker in the cemetery is for Pacoletta Ball, who died a young wife at the age of 20. I haven’t been able to find out anything more about her.

Two graves that are off by themselves are those of Obediah Copeland and his wife, Salina.  Lee Eula Copeland, their granddaughter, remembers being told by Salina that Obediah was away fighting as a Confederate soldier in Company A, 38th Georgia Regiment (known as Wright’s Legion) when Union troops came to the family home. After gathering all the food they could find, the soldiers started to go when Salina begged them to leave something for her children. One of the soldiers returned one bag of food for the family.

A few days before this, Obediah was taken prisoner in Rossville, Ga. and transported to a prisoner of war camp in Chicago, Ill. Salina told her granddaughter that her hair turned white from the fear that he’d died. He was released on June 16, 1865 and returned home to a very relieved wife.

There are two very old graves close to Pacoletta Ball’s monument for Samuel Perryman Cheek and his wife, Martha Ann Bruce Cheek. The Cheek name is well known in Dunwoody as one of the pioneering families.

Samuel and Martha’s son, Joberry, had his own farm in Dunwoody. In 1906, he built a one-story farmhouse for his son, Bunyan Cheek. The house sat on 2.5 acres of land in the heart of Dunwood and included a pasture, cornfield, barn, smokehouse, and a chicken house. In 1945, it was purchased by Carey and Florence Spruill, and became known as the Cheek-Spruill Farmhouse. Mrs. Spruill lived in the home until her death in 1993.

The Dunwoody Preservation Trust held a campaign to “Save the Farmhouse” after Mrs. Spruill’s death and raised more than $200,000 but the amount was not enough to purchase the property from the Spruill heirs. The Farmhouse was saved when Guardian Savings and Loan (in Houston, Texas) purchased the property in 1998 and donated the home and 1.5 acre of land to the DPT. Today, it is leased by the law firm of DelCampo, Weber and Grayson.

I did eventually find out what the story was behind “Here I raise my Ebenezer.” It comes from the book of I Samuel in the Bible, when the Israelites defeated the Phillistines. Samuel raised a stone to commemorate their appreciation for God’s help in saving them and called it Ebenezer or “Stone of Hope”.

In turn, I think Ebenezer Baptist Church and its cemetery are symbols of hope to the community, reminding those that drive by how the strong roots planted by these pioneers continue to shape its present and future.

That’s a true fount of blessing, isn’t it?