Stonewall

Not my hero. But a hero nonetheless.

Not my hero. But a hero nonetheless.

Years ago, went to the battleground of Chancellorsville. Stumbled through the woods where they fought, blindly, no visibility, no nothing but fear and dread and blood.

I was never a Confederate sympathizer. My people came from the county in Ohio that spawned both Grant and Sherman. Grew up with others from border states. One of my friends was the great grandson of the Vice President of the Confederacy. Heard it all, over and over and over (and over) again. The monsters named Sherman and Grant who burned and slaughtered the south. Never bought into it at all. The South got what it deserved.

But I saw the house where Stonewall died.

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And the bed he died in.

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And his tombstone. Killed by one of his own.

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And his last words.

“Let us cross over the river and rest in the shade of the trees.”

So I was there. I looked through the window of his death. I am of the Grant and Sherman tribe. But Stonewall was an American too. Which I will never forget.


Big Spoiler for Punk City fans. This video is of Johnny Dodge & the 440s.

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