Dispatch from Dogpatch #20 15 July 2015

Dispatch from Dogpatch #20     15 July 2015

I have spent the past weeks on the sidelines regarding “the flag”.  I have read with interest and with disdain a great deal of opinion on the matter.  Not one word, not one thought, not one plea has changed my mind.

It has taken years of self development and self awareness to come to my sanity and overcome my teachings on this matter, being born of southern white stock.  What a privilege it was; and I exploited that privilege for many years.  After all, I was taught by my father and his friends that we are special….we are southern, we are white, and we are in control of the “nigra” (that is being kind).  Even our progressive politicians of the time, i.e., Hodges and Sanford, were no doubt throttled to be in the embrace of the Kennedy and Johnson ideas of equality for all, voting for all, education for all.

As a child, blacks were not conspicuous in my culture.  Grass had to be mowed, laundry needed washing and ironing, houses swept, mopped, and dusted, meals prepared, and to some extent children raised.  These folk came early, worked hard, and left for home before Daddy got there.  Everything had the “order” of southern living.  I’m thinking of the movie “The Help”.

Into my teens and with the advent of integrated schools, and the breaking down of racial barriers (like the balcony section in the movie house or the restaurants or bus depots).  All these “Jim Crow” barriers were coming down and white southerners were coming unglued.  Don’t need the entire history here, but suffice it to say that even the Klan came to visit Wilkesboro one time when two blacks were charged with rape.  Quite a spectacle.  Spectacle of southern anachronistic ideology.  The world was moving beyond us (our culture and heritage) to new frontiers, and I had a front row seat.

Then came my Vietnam and I served with all colors and races, and not without tension either.  This was the time of the burning of cities, college campus unrest (Kent State), goddamned hippies, pot, long hair, loud music, LSD, free love, draft dodgers, hard hats, blue collars, draft lotteries, law and order….REVOLUTION!

From 1967 to 1971, I got to travel the world, participate in a war, get immersed in a culture we had corrupted, tended the wounded and dead and within 24 hours of all that plopped home be spit at and cursed for serving my country.  Yep, it had all changed in a year’s time...and I had, too.  Many of us veterans slunk away, tried not to be noticed, tried to start a new life, tried not to bring attention to our disgraced, loser service.  I’m still pissed about it.  

You see, the “coloreds” had been cleaning up our messes for generations, without recognition or compensation.  I think of World War II, when the blacks were relegated to support units, i.e. supply, transportation, ammo dumps, oh yeah and graves registration.  After we white boys marched through some portion of France pillaging and looting, the “support” troops would come clean up the battlefield.  Fun, huh?  Well after the war, the blacks felts like it was time for full partnership...after all they helped save democracy, right?  Hold up there, said the south...I ain’t ready for all that!  You git back to where you wuz and I’ll see to it later.  Well, twenty years later it took President Johnson signing an amendment to make it happen.  With that, the south turned republican and has remained there all my life…I still scratch my head over that.

I guess all this leads me comment on “the flag” business.  What a distraction from what really occurred.  We have too soon forgotten that people were assassinated, in church, for God’s sake!  Where has that story gone?  This kid was fed a line of bullshit about “the flag” and southern heritage and how the whites have been cheated and lied to and our way of life assaulted by the heathen forces.  The kid sat there, twirled his pistol and waved “the flag” before the camera...who knows what he was thinking.  One image I saw spoke volumes...he was burning the stars and stripes.  The kid had no allegiance to anything but a warped sense of destiny to a culture and heritage that we, as a nation, had long ago left.  Nine dead, right?  And the best we can come up with is a pissing contest over a flag.  It ain’t about a flag, it is about white supremacy.  Gee, that wasn’t so hard, it just took a page and a half to get there.

I just know this.  That for many years while in school, I pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America (that’s all 50).  I belong to certain clubs and fraternities that pledge every time we meet.  So, this ain’t an either or, right or wrong, yes or no.  Our grand forefathers, after surrendering, were told to go home, live long and prosper, but before you go, you must pledge allegiance to the United States of America. They did, and were glad to have survived.

That was 150 years ago.  Let’s move on.  We have lots of work to do.  I have grandchildren.  They deserve better.

Namaste