by Mary Wakefield Buxton –
URBANNA — In 1984 when we first moved to Urbanna it didn’t take long before I heard that a man, W.D. Edwards, “ran” Middlesex County. Being from Newport News, I had never heard of him. But I remembered the name and hoped to meet him one day.
In those days when I started writing for the Southside Sentinel, first starting with a column titled “Journeys” and soon after changing over to “One Woman’s Opinion,” it was pretty scary. Other than the syndicated women columnists Joan Beck of the Chicago Tribune and Anna Quindlen of the New York Times picked up by the Richmond Times Dispatch and Newport News Daily Press, but I wasn’t aware of any other woman writing controversial opinion in the commonwealth. I decided to jump into the fray anyway.
Guess who was a big supporter at a time when not many men supported women writing opinion in the local newspaper? Yes, it was W.D. Edwards of Saluda. (There were a few other men in our county that supported my pioneer efforts, Fred Gaskins, publisher of the Sentinel, Tom Hardin, editor, and lastly and most importantly, my husband Chip Buxton.)
I was asleep when W.D. first called to tell me of his support. The phone rang by my bedside and I opened a sleepy eye and saw that it was after 8 a.m. “Hello,” I answered trying not to sound as if I had just awakened.
“This is W.D. Edwards,” came a strong voice that sounded like God. I sat bolt up in my bed embarrassed that I had been asleep for my big moment as I was sure he had been up for hours as was the custom of rural folks.
W.D. went on to tell me how much he liked my column in the Sentinel and how pleased he was to see a local woman expressing her opinions in Middlesex County. My ears sizzled with his kind words. But I never told him and hoped he didn’t know that he had awakened me from a deep sleep that morning long ago.
I came to know him over the years in a dinner club and occasional gathering of friends at breakfast at Big Oak or Virginia Street cafés. One of my favorite memories of W.D. was one evening while at dinner he came up to me and said, “Mary, I’m 80 years old and I spent the day on my tractor.” I remember telling W.D. I would write until I turned 80 and then I would try a tractor. His response, “You keep writing. At 80 you will really have something important to tell readers.” I never dreamed I would still be holding a pen at 80, but here I am, thanks to W.D.
One day he gave me a tour of his home and lumberyard. I saw mounted heads of animals that he and his wife, Rachel, had bagged on their many trips hunting out west. In his lumberyard I saw how Mexican workers had replaced Americans and how dedicated these workers were to their jobs. “They send home their paychecks every week to their families,” W.D. told me. I knew that without these diligent workers from south of the border, his lumberyard may never have been the success that it was.
When my grandson, J.T. Buxton IV was christened with royal ritual by Father Paul Anderson at Christ Church, W.D. showed up. He sat ramrod straight in the wooden pew like a disapproving Baptist in the midst of a bunch of Episcopalians. I teased him about it but I loved him for coming to support our family.
One day at breakfast W.D. told me about his early life in Northern Neck where the Edwards family settled long before the Wakefields arrived in this country. He mentioned he had known both of his grandfathers as a young boy and that they had both been soldiers in the Confederacy that were fortunate enough to have survived the war and eventually make their way back home.
He told me he had been a lifelong Democrat but eventually the party turned so much to the left he began voting Republican for the first time in his life, even though he was not always happy with that choice. (Who is happy with either party these days?)
He lived to see his children and “grands” marry into Middlesex families like the Marshalls and Hurleys. He saw plenty of tragedy too with the loss of his beautiful daughter, Ruth Ellen, and eventually her husband, Walt.
Knowing W.D. Edwards was a privilege. He was one of the Middlesex “greats” that I have been fortunate to have known — Taylor, Bristow, Holmes, Marshall, Hurd, Gill, Chowning, Boddie, Norris, Gray, Mann — add Edwards and many more to the long list of great supporting families of Middlesex County.
So, W.D., if you’re still reading my column, I’m 80 now, the same age you were when you told me to keep writing no matter how old I became. This column is dedicated to you.
© 2022
