My sins creep up on me, sent by the Devil, and beset me by surprise. I know not what to do. A month ago, in Fredericksburg, Virginia, I sat on the banks of the Rappahannock River, upon which as a stripling I had canoed and fished, and reflected on how much I liked the South. I knew I should not. At least I am told that I should not, chiefly by people who would make a hoe seem a pinnacle of intellect, but these are the bedrock of Yankee society, and I must respect them.
Besides, I fear that meridional leanings are in my blood. Yes, alas. I am tainted. I am Frederick Venable Reed. Charles Scott Venable was on Lee’s staff, and Andrew Reid Venable of the staff of Jeb Stuart. We have never looked fondly on Federal intrusion. So there I am.
And yet, much as I loved the peace and light of the riverbank in that Southern town, much as I treasured a boyhood of BB guns and bare feet and dogs with no licences and people who talked slow and suppple as the Good Lord intended, I had to concede the sins of the South. Even today, the dark stains remain. The signs are everywhere.
More
DelMarVa's Premier Source for News, Opinion, Analysis, and Human Interest Contact Publisher Joe Albero at alberobutzo@wmconnect.com or 410-430-5349
Excellent article. Fred Reed has mastered satire.
ReplyDelete"Thus these eruptions of racial desperation have occurred all across Dixie: in Detroit, Ferguson, Los Angeles, Brooklyn, Washington DC, Watts, St. Louis, Cincinnati."
My favorite line.
This was some great reading and some good stuff. God Bless the South!!
ReplyDeleteI grew up must of my childhood in the South and I will always be a Southerner. I refuse to live any where further North than the Mason Dixon line.
In the north younger people address the older people they know by their first name. Those raised in a Southern Culture,. Weather they live in a rural area or a major city address the older people as Mr. Jones or Mr. Bill. This is not a white thing or a black thing. It is a good thing that does not know colour.
ReplyDelete