I have just been reduced to happy, emotional, relieved tears over and over again this week. That's a funny expression, isn't it: "reduced" to tears. This week, it's felt more like "elevated" to tears. At any rate, it happened again, this morning when I wandered on over to read Ann's amazing blog, The Gods Are Bored.
There's a borough near here that is a historically African American community. During the Civil War, the black soldiers who were killed were not interred in the federal cemeteries ... because the federal cemeteries were white only. So this little borough volunteered to pay for the shipment and burial of any Union Army soldier of color who was unknown or unclaimed by family.
More than 100 African American soldiers wound up in this little local cemetery, including one who earned a Congressional Medal of Honor.
The Spare and I took the Obama/Biden sign and placed it at the head of a parallel row of Civil War-era tombstones, all decked with their American flags.
I said to The Spare, "These men deserve this sign more than you and me."
And she agreed.
. . .
I feel that those soldiers, who knew damned well what they were fighting for, deserved a sign that proves they won.
I did it for them. I did it for my dad's people buried at Andersonville. I did it for freedom of the mind, which every good person should have.
And my daughter, who like all people her age covets souvenirs, gladly parted with a nice one.
I bet when we go back next year on Memorial Day it will still be there.
Damn, that's a good idea. Especially lovely here, just past Samhein, when the veil is still rather thin. Anyone live near the Woodlawn Cemetery in Detroit? This war had a whole lot of soldiers .
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."