Last night I sang Dixie. Like the other 25 attendees, I put my hand over my heart, and whupped and hollered at the end of the song. Here in Virginia, history bubbles out of the ground. It’s not two dimensional. Not sterile pages in a book, it lives and breathes all around us. The past lives in the flesh and blood of the present. No city in the New World has been fought over more than Richmond. The surrounding soil is soaked in blood.
I believe understanding history and honoring the dead are noble enterprises, indeed a duty much aligned with the 5th Commandment. So last night, I met Thomas Garnett at my Sons of Confederate Veterans meeting. We had spoken on the phone a couple months ago. He asked me to help him with a particular problem. The following is his story.
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