A Day Late and a Dollar Short
I happened to be in South Carolina, the week the Confederate flag was taken down, at the State House, in response to the senseless and brutal murder of a group of people, at a Bible study.
I had debated whether or not to attend the ceremony, and decided that as a “northerner” the Confederate flag’s comings and goings did not truly impact my life sufficiently to change my travel plans. I did not imagine myself posting pictures of the Confederate flag flying, and thus decided that instead, I would make my way to the state house, at sometime in the future; and take a picture of the Stars and Stripes, gloriously flying where the Confederate flag had once flown.
A few weeks later, I found myself in Columbia, South Carolina, and decided to go looking for my pictures of the American flag. We walked around the beautiful grounds, at the State House, thinking we would have to ask the grumpy security officer where the flag was, as we could not find it. Finally, Kate turned to Google – there was no flag to be found.
Not only had the Confederate flag been taken down, but all remnants that a flag, any flag, had ever flown, in that spot were removed. I am glad I did not wait another month, to make the stop, as I am sure the grass would have grown together by then, and the spot would be undistinguishable.
I have previously written about initial experiences, in the South, as an adult, and while I love the South and southern people and food and weather and landscapes and so much more, I never have nor ever would have supported the succession of states from the Union; however, I am most avidly against revisionary history.
Spending some time in Columbia, and walking the grounds of the State House, I can tell you it is a town heavily laden with memorials to everyone from the war dead to those killed in the Armenian genocide. Columbia is a city which honors its past and remembers those who lost their lives; I hope that a patch of grass does not become their attempt to re-write history.
