Muskets and Meatballs

The Redcoats are coming, the Redcoats are coming!
Calling all Durbins, the Redcoats are coming!
Janine, make like Paul Revere and ride, ride, ride.
Christy, keep your eyes peeled on the Old North Church.
Marybeth, grab your medical gear and prepare to treat the wounded.
Mariah, survey the battlefield.
Jeff, Bill, David, Brian and Jimmy don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.
Trish, start sewing uniforms and flags.
Kayla and Angie, prepare the soldier’s meals.
Denise, get General Washington’s teeth.
Jenny, find your fife and drum.

I recently learned that an ancestor on my mother’s side of the family fought in the Revolutionary War. This makes my sisters, female cousins, and aunts Daughters of the Revolution. I am ready to sign up to be a member of the Sons of the Revolution. But why the segregation? This is 2010. It’s time for a new club. Beware King George, here come the Durbins of the Revolution!

I have always been proud of my father’s Italian heritage. I find it glamorous. We have DiMaggio, Pacino, DeNiro, and the Corleones. There’s calzones, gelato, and cannolis. Italy has so much history and culture. There’s Rome, Pisa, Florence, and Venice; Michelangelo, Pavarotti, Botticelli. I love my grandma’s powerful maiden name: Zanzano. The Gervase and Zanzano history is easily traceable back to the turn of the century when my great-grandparents passed through Ellis Island, settled in Buffalo, NY and set up shop running booze from Canada during prohibition. But we Italians are better lovers than fighters. My dad always said the thinnest book in the library is titled, “Italian War Heroes”. When it comes to the battlefield, it’s a bit of a bummer to be related to the bad guys in WWII.

My mother’s branch of the family tree is a little more nebulous. I’ve been told that I’m part English and Irish. When did my ancestors arrive on the continent? Sometime after 1620 I presume. Cities in my mom’s history are Detroit and Paducah, Kentucky. Not exactly Naples and Sicily. I’ve never thought of my mother’s lineage as all that exciting. That is until I learned about John Goatley; Revolutionary War Private John Goatley.

I recently had the pleasure of meeting Carolyn Kiesling, a relative and the resident genealogy guru of my mother’s family. My great-grandfather, Ivo Goatley had three wives. From wife number two came my grandma, Ruby Goatley. Her husband and my grandfather was Lloyd Durbin. Carolyn hails from Ivo’s third wife. She has been bombarding me with documents, photos, and historical records. Working backwards Ivo’s dad was Thomas Peter, who was the son of William, the son of Peter, the son of John, born in 1752 in Monroe, Virginia.

John was 24-years-old when the war for independence began. According to one of Carolyn’s documents, John signed up in 1776 and served under Captain John Allison in the Third Virginia Regiment. Apparently, private Goatley also served in the Corps of Horses under Colonel William Washington. He was taken prisoner by the British, tried to escape, and was wounded. He was sent to Richmond where he remained unfit for duty until the end of the war.

The Third Virginia Regiment was quite active in the war. It took part in the battles of Trenton, Princeton, Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth. One of its commanders was Thomas Marshall, the father of Supreme Court Justice John Marshall, who served in the regiment alongside Lieutenant James Madison. The regiment was also holed up during the siege of Charleston that occurred from March to May of 1780. Following the siege, much of the regiment was captured by the British. My research also turned up a mounted unit led by William Washington known as the Light Dragoons, which went up against Lord Cornwallis in the Carolinas.

I can only guess at the details of private Goatley’s wartime action. But the battles of Trenton and Princeton immediately followed George Washington’s famous crossing of the Delaware. Did John ride in the boat with the general? The battles of Brandywine and Germantown occurred in the fall of 1777, after the treacherous six-month stay in Valley Forge. Did John shiver and starve for liberty in that small Pennsylvanian village? Was he captured along with the rest of the Third Virginia after the siege of Charleston? Did he chat with Marshall and Madison about trial procedures or a certain woman named Dolly? I am anxious to work alongside Carolyn to see if more details can be discovered.

John Goatley’s involvement in the war explains some genetic characteristics of the Durbin clan. They are a very hardworking, resilient, and feisty bunch. My own dear mother probably would have fired the shot heard ‘round the world if she’d had the chance. Her mother Ruby was a born minute-woman. She would have kept the cleanest mess hall in the entire army, all the while serving the best cold ham and green beans in the outfit. I can see my Aunt Betty heading up the Continental Navy. My aunt Shirley, a talented letter-writer and a former nun, would have been at home issuing Last Rites and notifying the next of kin.

While my dad’s family is known for crafting the tastiest meatballs this side of the Trevi Fountain, I am proud that my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was active in firing musketballs at the Redcoats. Both sides of my heritage are wonderful and something for which I am thankful. I think the two are best summed up by the famous words, “Give me lasagna or give me death.”