To dive into a "blog" was not something that, even a month ago, I ever thought I would be doing.  If you know anything about me, you would know that I have a lot to say about .... well ... everything.  But if I am going to take this on, and bear with me because this is my first attempt at this new endeavor, I am going to speak for the men and women of Williamsport that no longer have a voice.  Yet .... they speak to me.

Upon entering the City Hall Grand Hotel, every guest is greeted by this group of men.  After about 50 hours of restoration on a single photo, these members of the Williamsport National Guard Regiment are held very dear to my heart.  Fathers, brothers, friends, uncles, sons, husbands ... shopkeepers, blacksmiths, teachers, wagon makers, tailors, carpenters, rat-catchers, chimney sweeps, stonemasons ... all came together to fight in the Civil War.  Some look not much older than my 15-year-old.  Yet they stand at attention as the civilians in motion behind them blur as a reminder to us that life in the 1860's wasn't just a moment as seen in an old black and white.  Their lives, and in some cases, death, knitted the beautifully intricate fabric that became today's Williamsport.

Not too long ago, when we were doing the "Market Square" section of the hotel, a man came in to do our drywall work.  Never having seen the inside of the hotel, let alone the mural that is proudly displayed in our entrance lobby, he was taken aback at first glance.  He stopped short, to revisit the memories of his great aunt that had a similar photo when he was a child.  Her great uncle, he said, was the "third man from the left."

Chester Milheim.

Finally!  I had a name to go with a face, and a tremendous reward for my efforts to bring every pixel of this digital replica back from the grave.  Chester Milheim ... a soldier that expressed to his great niece that "he just wanted to be a farmer" ... and a soldier that never made it home to follow his dreams.

They all have a story to tell.  It is a shame I cannot tell you more.

But the next time you see these men who daily welcome complete strangers to our boutique hotel, remember their sacrifices.

I know that I for one carry a few threads of the fabric they knitted over a century and a half ago.

(A special thanks to the James V. Brown Library who has shared this and several other moments in Williamsport's history with me to restore.)