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By WAYNE F. BALDWIN
Rappahannock Neva Contributing Writer
On Friday, May 22,1 left home at 5 a.m., beginning my journey. My first journey beyond the Mississippi River. Actually, I had only seen a little bit of eastern Kentucky to date. As always, distances traveled seem so much greater than what appears on a map, but I expected to be on the road at least all day, which turned out to be fifteen hours. As with many of the trips I’ve undertaken in my life, this one too was to seek out information on and meet with certain relatives.. .a genealogical trip.
I arrived in Springfield, Missouri about 8:30 p.m. and in Bolivar (pronounced Ball-i-ver), 26 miles further north on Route 13, at about 9 p.m. All the local motels/hotels were filled due to the graduation ceremonies being held at the Southwest Baptist Univeristy and high school. I had insisted on not imposing on anyone, so went back to Springfield. After getting a room at the Best Western Motel on North Glenstone Ave., I showered and collapsed on one of the beds forgetting about even being hungry.
I awoke on Saturday morning about 7 a.m. which was 8 a.m. our time (Eastern Standard or Day Light Savings which ever it happened to be), and got the biggest breakfast that Denny’s offered. Finally, I felt rejuvinated sufficently to proceed on the trek of my newly discovering (as yet unmet) relatives.
A little background here might help understand why I went to Missouri in the first place. Having found information some years ago that a certain Richard Dwyer had gone to that state, for whatever reasons.
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