I Weep for Our Country

Except for one year in Hawaii, I have always lived in the far North. One of my cousins moved to Savannah many years ago, and I have been there a couple of times, but my first visit to the South was in the early 90’s, when I was in my early twenties: a friend and I decided to do a road trip around the country. We drove from Alaska, down the West Coast, through the South, up the East Coast, and across the North back to Alaska-we did this over the course of about a month, in a very broken down truck with very little money. Which is to say, there is a lot that we missed.

But there was also a lot that we saw: one thing that surprised me was that practically every place east of the Mississippi seemed, to me anyway, to look like every other place east of the Mississippi. I had never been to New Orleans before, and culturally, New Orleans is different from Western Massachusetts, but when we arrived in the New Orleans area, I felt that I was coming home: everything looked so familiar.

The one thing about visiting the South that I could never forget is the Civil War Cemetery we visited in rural Georgia: we didn’t visit this cemetery on purpose. I believe that God led us there: I can’t remember how we got there, but I am pretty sure that we were lost, we were in the middle of nowhere, trying to get somewhere, when on the side of the road there appeared a very old cemetery. We must have been intrigued, so we stopped.

There is no way to describe the incredible feeling of peace that I experienced in that little cemetery-I think we both felt that peace before we even got out of the car, and that feeling of peace is what motivated us to stop. There is so much now that I don’t remember, but we stopped the car, got out, wandered around, checked the place out, and sooner or later, one of us found a plaque, which explained that that every person buried in that cemetery had been a Union soldier. They had fallen in battle, and the women of that area gave them a decent burial, in a beautiful graveyard. I swear, I was experiencing total peace long before I knew that, but when I came to understand what this cemetery was about, I understood. I didn’t want to leave: neither of us did. After initially checking things out, we just sat on a stone fence in total silence, and basked in the peace and the love that was everywhere in that place. We stayed there for around 2 hours, and neither of us said a word. When we finally did leave, we did so reluctantly: even after all these years, that cemetery is the most beautiful and incredible place I have ever been.

I was reminded of that day and that little cemetery when I learned today that Elizabeth Warren wants to desecrate the graves of Confederate Soldiers. I am not totally clear on all the details, but apparently there are cemeteries where Union and Confederate Soldiers are buried side by side, and Madame Warren is displeased by this, so she has introduced legislation to completely separate Confederate and Union graves. When asked what his response to this was, some worthless Republican politician whose name I cannot remember told a reporter that he wouldn’t fight it, because according to him, “This isn’t the hill to die on.”

Like hell it isn’t. This is, most definitely, the hill to die on. I have never thought of it in those terms before: I live in Massachusetts. Very few people fly the Confederate flag here; when South Carolina (or was it North Carolina? I can’t remember) decided to stop flying the Confederate flag, part of me was saddened, but mostly, I just figured that I should mind my own business. Nobody needs or wants some chick from Massachusetts telling them that they should or should not display the Confederate flag. My feelings are kind of the same when I see statues of Confederate historical figures being torn down: I don’t like it, but we don’t have very many or any statues of Confederate historical figures in Western Mass, so the question becomes, am I willing to get on a plane or take a very long drive and put myself in bodily danger to defend a statue of a Confederate historical figure? The answer is, No, I am not, particularly when it seems that no one anywhere is willing to defend those statues. Mind you, most Americans do not want those statues torn down: 32% of Americans want those statues gone, and a large majority of Americans want the statues to stay. But, being against tearing down the statues does not equal being willing to defend them, and that isn’t necessarily wrong. I ask myself, seriously: am I willing to die for a statue? I go back and forth, but the answer, I am fairly certain, is No. I am not willing to die for a statue, and it seems that no one else is either, and I totally understand that.

But Confederate graves are not statues. Desecrating a statue of a deceased person and trying to erase history is bad enough: desecrating a grave is a million times worse, and if somebody tells you that this isn’t the hill to die on, you can be sure that he will never be willing to die on any hill.

If nothing else, this moment in time is giving us clarity. Most Americans are against what the mob in the street is doing, and we are taking note of the politicians who are going along with the mob: we will remember who they are and what they did. Until today, until I learned of what Elizabeth Warren and many others want to do, I was essentially biding my time until the next election: many other Americans are also biding their time, but when people start talking about desecrating graves, we are being called to do more than just bide our time until the next election. This is the hill to die on, and if we aren’t willing to die on this hill, I weep for our country, and I fear for our country. The world is watching: if we allow the graves of our ancestors to be desecrated, we are putting our children in terrible danger. We must honor our past in order to protect our future.