Rich church ladies in the rococola part of Atlanta (think Coca-Cola, kids) plucked me out of a cotton-mill village at age 15, in 1951, and sent me to a military school in the Jim Crow wilds of central Georgia. There, five mornings a week, a local member of the clergy would tell us all about god, say a prayer for which we were to stand, and, then, the band played "Dixie," at the end of which the grubby sons of South Georgia white bigots hooted and yelled and stamped their feet. I was an atheist at age 9, back in the mill village, but golly, those morning chapels sure as shoot reaffirmed by unbelief. I should not say it, no I shouldn't, but I will anyway: thank god.
2007-06-12
11:22:01
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Well, it was my mistake. I should have guessed upfront that too few of you know about Jim Crow and state-sanctioned hate and the unspeakable vileness of the segregation era in the South, and its symbols, such as "Dixie." You see, the man of god of whom I spoke played a role in boosting the hate and the bigotry. Oh, you kids! Where are the teachers of history? Did so few of you go to university? Other than Bob Jones University, i mean.
2007-06-12
11:45:27 ·
update #1