Virgil Wayne is the name, and I was raised down South in Dixieland.  Years ago, my grandmother (Mommy Jeanne), granddaughter of Parham’s sister, passed these letters on to me folded-up in a yellowed envelope inside of a tattered shoe box.

As a child, I loved to listen to Mommy Jeanne tell stories of those in the family tree who had gone on before me and how their lives intertwined with events I read about in history books. She was a remarkable woman who dedicated herself to being the family historian.

This blog is made in memory of Mommy Jeanne and in honor of Parham Buford who nobly died while wearing of the gray.


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