2026 -10 Patriotism Revisited

James E. Rigdon, My paternal 5th great grandfather

DAR Ancestor #: A096601

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 10: March 5 -11, 2026

Prompt: Changed My Thinking

For years, when I thought about my Revolutionary War patriots, I pictured the Continental Army.

I imagined blue uniforms, long enlistments, dramatic marches, and decisive battles. In my mind, “real” service meant the Continental Line — full-time soldiers who fought under Washington and endured Valley Forge.

James Rigdon was one of those patriots.

He is my 5th great-grandfather — six generations back on my paternal line. His daughter Hannah Rigdon carried the family forward through the Morans, the Dudgeons, the Goldsmiths, and the Wallises to me. Six generations separate us, yet his name still appears in my family tree — and in a federal pension file that quietly records his service.

So when I opened that file, I assumed I would find something dramatic.

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Instead, I found this:

Total service: 6 months.

Not six years.

Not one continuous enlistment.

Six months — broken into short tours.

And that simple line changed my thinking.

Militia vs. Continental Line: What I Didn’t Understand

Before reading James Rigdon’s pension file, I assumed that Revolutionary War service meant the Continental Army.

The Continental Line was the formal army established by Congress. These were long-term soldiers who enlisted for extended periods — sometimes for the duration of the war. They trained together, marched together, and fought in the large, well-known battles we read about in history books.

But most Revolutionary War service did not look like that.

Most men served in the militia.

The militia was made up of ordinary citizens — farmers, tradesmen, fathers — who were required to serve when called. They were not full-time soldiers. They were mobilized for short periods, often just weeks or a few months at a time. They defended local areas, guarded supply lines, reinforced Continental troops, and responded to immediate threats. When their term ended, they went home.

And then they might be called again.

James Rigdon’s service followed that pattern exactly. He enlisted in October 1776 in Harford County, Maryland, and served about two months. In 1778, he served two additional tours of roughly two months each. In total, his credited Revolutionary service was six months.

Six months — not in one continuous stretch, but in separate tours.

At first glance, that felt small compared to the image I had in my mind of what a Revolutionary War soldier looked like.

But the more I read, the more I realized something important.

The Revolution could not have been fought by the Continental Army alone.

Militia units guarded towns and ports.

They protected supply routes.

They reinforced Continental troops when needed.

They filled manpower gaps.

They maintained order in their communities.

They were not glamorous. Their service was often poorly documented. Many did not receive pensions until decades later — if at all. But they were essential.

James Rigdon may not have stood at Valley Forge or marched at Yorktown. But when his county called, he went. And when called again, he went again.

That is service. That is patriotism. 

The Act of June 7, 1832: Why It Matters

James Rigdon did not receive a pension right after the war. In fact, he did not apply until December 3, 1832 — more than fifty years after his service.

That was possible because of the Act of June 7, 1832.

Before 1832, federal pensions were limited. They were often granted only to veterans who were disabled or who could prove specific types of long-term service. Many militia soldiers — especially those who served short, intermittent tours — did not qualify.

The 1832 Act changed that.

For the first time, Congress allowed Revolutionary War veterans to receive pensions based on aggregate service. It did not require proof of wounds or disability. It did not require continuous enlistment. Instead, it allowed men to add together their periods of service.

For James Rigdon, that meant:

Two months in 1776.

Two additional tours in 1778.

Six months total.

That was enough.

His pension was modest — forty dollars per year — but it was recognition. It was the federal government acknowledging that even short-term militia service counted.

The language in his pension abstract is almost clinical:

Total service: 6 months.

No battles listed.

No heroic description.

Just six months.

And yet, that line represents a farmer who left home when called, more than once, and did his part in a long and uncertain war.

The Widow’s Pension

James Rigdon died in Fleming County, Kentucky, on August 15, 1835 — just three years after his pension was approved.

But his file did not end there.

In 1854, nearly twenty years after his death, his widow, Elizabeth Peachy Rigdon, applied for a widow’s pension under the Act of February 3, 1853.

Elizabeth was not my direct ancestor. James’s first wife, Rebecca Jarvis, was. But it was Elizabeth who stood before the court decades later and preserved his service in federal records.

Her application required proof that James had been a Revolutionary pensioner, that she had married him in Fleming County in 1812, and that she had not remarried. Neighbors testified. The county clerk certified the marriage. The paperwork moved from Kentucky to Washington.

Because of Elizabeth’s persistence, James Rigdon’s service was recorded again — not by him, but by the woman who survived him.

Even though she is not in my direct line, her application became part of my evidence.

Without her, there might be fewer pages in his file.

A Different Understanding of Patriotism

When I first began researching my Revolutionary War ancestors, I unconsciously ranked their service in my mind.

Continental Line soldiers seemed larger. More official. More dramatic. Militia service felt smaller by comparison.

James Rigdon’s pension file changed that.

Six months — broken into short tours — once felt modest to me. But the more I studied the structure of the militia, the more I understood what those six months really represented. They were weeks and months pulled from ordinary life. Time away from home, from crops, from community responsibilities. They were periods of uncertainty in a war that had no guaranteed outcome.

Patriotism does not always wear a uniform for years at a time.

Sometimes patriotism looks like answering a call, going home, and answering it again.

Sometimes it looks like guarding supply routes instead of charging a battlefield.

Sometimes it looks like providing goods, food, or support that never makes it into a dramatic history book.

James Rigdon was not a Continental Line officer. He was a militia man. He served when called, and his community later affirmed that service in open court. Because of the Act of 1832 — and because of his widow’s later application — that service was preserved.

Service does not have to be grand to be real.

As I continue reviewing my other Revolutionary-era ancestors, I find that my thinking has changed. Whether they served in the Continental Line, the militia, or supported the troops in quieter ways, I now see their contributions with deeper respect.

Patriotism is not measured only by the length of service or the fame of a battle.

Sometimes it is measured in willingness.

And that is patriotism.