The Gillespie Chronicles, The Final Frame

Join me as I retrieve my gold-plated shovel and walk the land. If we are kin, by either blood or association, then your ancestors, as well as mine, roamed this land. Before they lay to rest my tired old bones beneath this hallowed ground, join me in a final trek for skeletons and treasures of the past. Some skeletons are easy to find because some of them I helped bury, others hidden by our parent, distant cousins, teachers and preacher are sometimes harder to find. We must also remember treasures are different; often existing in the eyes of the beholder, a treasure to one may be a skeleton. There is a type of sadness emulating from the land. The memories of those who came before us cry out, Let not that what we did be in vain. Grandmother’s little red house that once sat on a hill overlooking hundreds of acres of prime farmland is now a decaying relic of the past. The Gillespie-Ward-McGee history of the bloodline is filled with skeletons and treasures, some beneath the ground, some are encased inside the trunks of the great Oaks that dominate the land, others exist within the mind of friends, family, preachers, and foe, while some are nothing but made-up rhetoric.