By the early 20th century, Mansfield had settled into civilian life in Piqua where he raised a family that included a son named James. James married Ida Gates, a relative of Revolutionary War General Horatio Gates. While Mansfield and James were spared the horrors of war and lived relatively peaceful lives, the next generations were not so lucky.

   James’s son, George—along with his brothers and neighbors—was called to serve in the trenches of World War I. Not long after, his son, my grandfather, George Jr., enlisted in the U.S. Army during World War II. He fought bravely in the European campaign, earning a Purple Heart in France.

  Two of George Jr.’s brothers also served. One of them, Bill, flew as a gunner on a B-17 bomber and was wounded  by flak during a mission over Europe. My wife’s grandfather also served in the European theater. Remarkably, all four men made it home, as did every direct relative of mine who served the United States since 1776.

   In this sense, we were lucky.

   When the Vietnam War erupted, my grandfather—haunted by the terrifying experiences he had in World War II, which he openly shared with us grandchildren as we listened in awe—made it clear he didn’t want to press the family’s luck. He insisted my father go to college and encouraged his younger son to enlist in the National Guard, hoping neither would ever see the front lines. They did not.

   At college, my father (a graduate of Bethel High School) and my mother (an “Air Force brat” whose father was stationed at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base and whose grandfather was a “Bradford Railroad Man”) met—and that’s how I came to be a proud eighth-generation western Ohioan. 

   Although my father never went to war or settled a new frontier, he held deep respect for those who did—and for the history and hard work behind such sacrifices, including those made by his own relatives. 

   In this way, my childhood vacations were often spent visiting museums, battlefields, monuments, historic sites and villages, hiking along rivers in search of arrowheads and Indian mounds, and sometimes traveling to cemeteries in remote places on hot summer days, searching for information about Thomas and other relatives —all things I wouldn’t trade for the world and that clearly had an influence on my life.

   When my own children came along, I felt a natural pull to pass these experiences on—visiting the same kinds of places my father once took me, and sharing the names and stories of the people who came before us, including our ancestors—whose shoulders we stand upon, and whose courage, sacrifice, and perseverance helped shape the course of history. By bringing the past to life for my children, I hoped to plant the same seeds of curiosity and gratitude that my father once planted in me—a legacy not just of knowledge, but of connection. 

   As we mark 250 years since the start of the Revolutionary War—and the 250th birthday of the United States in 2026—there may be no better time to hit the road and connect with the places where our country’s (and possibly even your own family) story began than now. Whether exploring a battlefield, walking through a colonial village, or standing in the very spot where history took a new course (or where a relative stood), the following destinations make the Revolutionary War and the 18th century come to life in a powerful way. Along the way, travelers can gain a deeper appreciation for the people and events that shaped our nation, both the contradictions and the hope. The journey starts here.