Six of One, Half Dozen of The Other

The Confederate Flag came down here in South Carolina last week. It was about time. It was an eyesore. It was embarrassing. And there is no mistaking what it really stands for.

That's why when I see these ignorant crackers pulling out their "Heritage Not Hate" response, I have to laugh it's so ridiculous. The "Heritage" they are defending was a racist, oppressive, agrarian society built on slave labor that people of the South felt so passionate about they were willing to go war and die for it.

My father firmly thought the South should have won. He was pretty much a racist. A passive one, mind you, not a vocal or violent man, but if there was a problem in society, it was the "blacks" who were to blame. 

Don't worry, I never bought into it. He failed in his attempts to brainwash me. I remember there was a movie we were watching once starring Fess Parker (who had played Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone on TV and in the movies) as a Northern Captain leading a group of soldiers to destroy a Confederate supply train. And I remember my father saying: "See, he's the bad guy. We don't want them to win." To which I quickly replied "What? No way! That's Davy Crockett. He is always the hero."

We agreed to disagree which is what we did about most everything all our lives. Except sports. We could talk about sports. Baseball and football were safe zones. But let's be clear that we didn't live in a trailer, boiling moonshine and crapping in an outhouse. My father was an intelligent, well-educated man who worked for a large bank and we grew up in a nice house in a solid middle class neighborhood.

So you can imagine his reaction when a black family moved in next door. Oh I remember all the wailing and lamentations about declining property values and how we better sell the house soon because this is just the beginning. Of course that family turned out to be lovely people and we often went swimming in their pool and I often babysat their young son and mowed their yard. We didn't sell the house until many years later and it wasn't because of that. On the surface at least, my father was very respectful and friendly toward them but I bet in his heart he never fully accepted it.

So if he had been alive last week to see the flag come down, I know he wouldn't have liked it. Again he wouldn't have been out in the streets making a big scene, but he would have pulled out the "Heritage Not Hate" claptrap and he would have been wrong. And I would have told him so. And we would have agreed to disagree, then talked about how much the Atlanta Braves suck this year.

It was exciting to see a crowd of 10,000 mostly cheering when it came down. My mother was in that crowd (so you know how that relationship worked out) but it showed the world that despite the redneck crazies, most people here in the south are normal, tolerant, moderate, open minded people who just want to get along. And BTW, I heard the "N-word" a billion times more in my years living in New York City, than I ever did growing up in the south. So take that, you Damned Yankees!