‘YOU CAN’T WHITEWASH HISTORY’

          All this here hate for the Confederacy bull hockey has done got plumb ridiculous, lately, and I think it’s about time I spoke my piece on the subject.

It was bad enough back when ‘those people’.... and, yes, I am using the same term General Robert E. Lee used when referring to the enemy, and I feel it will suffice as well, today, as it did back then.... let us continue. It was bad enough when ‘those people’ were all going after the Southern States for having the Confederate Battle Flag or similar such Confederate influences incorporated into the designs of their state flags.

Bed-sheeted pinheads

          They insisted that the Confederate Battle Flag stood for nothing more than racism, hatred, and bigotry; a hurtful reminder of the Old South. That.... because white supremacists had flown it before, during, and since segregation.... it was an evil symbol; guilty by association alone. What ‘those people’ forget, though.... or just plain ignore.... is that at every gathering of those bed-sheeted pinheads and rednecks, you will also see, and always have seen, the Star Spangled Banner being flown, as well. So, under that rationale, our beloved United States flag would also be considered a symbol of racism, hatred, and bigotry.

Current Georgia State Flag
& the 1st National Confederate Flag

                       Still, they kept on about it here in Georgia ‘til that bunch down in Atlanta changed ours, not once but twice. As a historian, I can’t help but shake my head in amazement at the final state flag design that ‘those people’ agreed upon. And as a Southerner, I simply smile and softly chuckle. We went from having a state flag with the Rebel flag on it, to a replacement that’s basically the 1^st National Confederate flag with the State seal dead-center of the ring of stars. LOL

Then, when that crazy little Klu-Kluck-wannabe shot them poor folks’ church up, in Charleston, SC, a few years back, ‘those people’ decided that the Battle Flag was to blame for that one idiot’s evil doings. So, the next thing you know, theBottom of Form Governor of South Carolina ordered that the Battle Flag be taken down off’n the State House grounds there. As if that t’weren’t enough, amid all the media-driven hoopla during the time, the U.S. National Park Service took it upon themselves to remove the Confederate Battle Flag from.... of all places....  the Civil War battlefields where it used to fly. Really?? If that old flag belonged anywhere, surely it would have been on the battlefields where it had originated from.

SC State Troopers reverently fold the removed Battle Flag

Did this help bring folks closer to one another in the aftermath of such a heinous tragedy? No, ma’am. No sir. Not, at all. It only rekindled the debate between those for who claim the flag carries hurtful connotations and others for whom it represents family and the land they love.

Now, ‘those people’ are back at it, again.... only they’ve upped the ante a bit. This very week, in Virginia, North Carolina, and also here in Georgia, Confederate statues have been defaced and damaged, and now, there’s what they’re calling a ‘nationwide’ push to erase all mention of Confederates everywhere.

Without an ounce of regard as to how the rest of us feel about the matter, this small minority of the population, with the media as its megaphone, are going after those beautiful granite and marble statues and memorials that were erected long ago to honor the achievements of our Confederate ancestors, saying they, too, invoke racism and are hurtful to people of color, and so, must now come down, removed from public view, erased from history.

'Progressive' protesters tear down and destroy a Confederate monument,
in Durham, NC 

          They march, they protest, they demand. When they don’t get their way, they act as unruly children, pitching a tantrum.... resorting to harassment, destruction, and even violence.... all the while vilifying those that disagree with them, calling them racists, hate mongers, and intolerant.

The Confederate Defenders of Charleston monument, in SC

In doing so, millions of good Southern folks.... some black, some white.... now feel that they’re being deliberately humiliated and made to pay for something that they did not do. It’s nothing less than a cultural purge of the South, something historically associated with tyrannical regimes, such as Nazi Germany did back in World War II, and most recently like ISIS has done in Iraq. Not only is this ‘purge’ wrong, but it’s unworthy of a free nation.

The  Peace Monument, in Atlanta, GA, covered in paint;
               saved from destruction when a lone police officer placed
              himself between the protesters and the monument 

Too immature to recognize the true significance of these memorials to our Nation as a whole, all that these young narcissists seem to be able to focus on are their ‘feelings’, which, in reality, are unfounded and nothing more than how they’ve been told they should feel, by someone else.... most likely a liberal college professor or a social agitator on a FACEBOOK post.

These ‘young progressives’, as they are often referred to, are so callow; so inexperienced in life.... so sure they know all that they need to know about everything.... yet, are so obviously ignorant of our American history, that it makes us older folks somewhat ashamed and sorry for them.

It is said the South seceded to perpetuate slavery.... yet, six slave states sent men to die for the North, and the Southern states rejected an offer from President Abraham Lincoln that would have made slavery permanent in exchange for their return to the Union. In addition, although most Northern states had ended slavery by 1860, many had also passed “black laws,” a forerunner of Jim Crow, which placed tight restrictions on blacks and often forbade them from even living in the state.

Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President
            of the United States of America

In August of 1862, President Lincoln wrote to newspaper editor Horace Greeley, " My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union and is not either to save or to destroy slavery. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it."
       And let's not forget that West Virginia was admitted into the Union as a slave state, in 1863.... DURING the middle of the War.... and slaves in that and other Northern and border states had to wait until 1865, two years after the Emancipation Proclamation, for their freedom.

Folks, slavery was more than just a Southern problem; it was an American problem.

This 'Moment of Mercy' sculpture depicts a Confederate soldier, who, during
              a lull in the Battle of Fredericksburg, VA, risked his life to give water to Union soldiers
            who were lying wounded and dying in a "no man's land" between the opposing armies.

         In 1861, our nation came apart because both sides were focused on differences rather than commonalities. Today we see a similar situation, with skin color increasingly emphasized and the lessons of 150-years ago seemingly unlearned.... perhaps because some are only telling part of the story.

Instead of removing all vestiges of the Confederacy, how ‘bout we use these statues and the names inscribed on them to start a new conversation, one that acknowledges the roles of everyone involved and offers hope for our nation and its people, both black and white.

"Nothing is more unfair than to judge of the sentiments of one age
         by the improved moral perceptions of another." 

          America’s history.... both good and bad.... has much to teach us, but those lessons are lost when their physical symbols are erased. This type of cultural cleansing, itself a form of intolerance, debases both America and its people and sets a dangerous precedent for our civil liberties.

          You can’t change history. You can’t whitewash it. You can learn from it, though, and that is exactly why our Confederate memorials should stay in prominent, public places.... to remind us all where we’ve been, what we’ve endured, so that we could get where we are, today.

'DECORATION DAY WEEKEND'

One of the many flower arrangements I made for this year's Decoration Day Weekend

            This coming weekend is Decoration Day Weekend; our annual trip around Alabama and into Mississippi to go see dead folks. As odd as that might sound, it’s something my parents and I look forward to each and every year.

            We first visit Crane Hill, where my Momma’s people, the Pittmans and the Clays, have lived for generations. We replace last year’s weather-worn flowers with beautiful new floral arrangements on grandparents’ graves, and set a new American flag in front of my Papaw Pittman’s headstone in honor of his wartime service.

            From Crane Hill, it’s on to Pickens County, Alabama, where my Daddy and his brothers and sisters were all raised. At Pleasant Grove and Hargrove cemeteries, we decorate my Mamaw and Papaw Jennings’ and Grandma and Grandpa Hicks’ graves. And all the while, my Daddy has us laughing as he tells us, for the umpteenth time, about the time Grandma ended up astraddle of a big ol’ hog, ridin’ it backwards, hollerin’ “Help me, Will! Help me!” And how Grandpa Hicks couldn’t, for laughing so hard at her.

We also stop along the way to admire different things and places as we travel the old byways and dirt back roads. I’m one of the world’s worst for stopping to take pictures of seemingly mundane things that most folks wouldn’t give a second thought to, like the rusting old Coca Cola sign on an abandoned country store, a one-room clapboard-sided country pharmacy whose original druggist I later found out had been a local Confederate veteran, or a dilapidated farmhouse turned ‘deer camp’, surrounded by a dozen old travel trailers patiently awaiting the next hunting season. Yet, some of these turn out to be some of the most interesting photos I take all year.

Here and there we stop to visit with our living kin, as well. Whether it’s sharing a delicious home-cooked meal with my dear Aunt Mary or laughing and cutting up with my Uncle Jerry, we relish getting to see them, since some of 'em aren’t able to travel as much as they once could.

On over in Mississippi, we head out to Chickasaw County, an hour northwest of Columbus. It’s here, in Mississippi’s agricultural Black Belt, that my Daddy’s people have lived for generations. This is where my grandparents, my great-grandparents and their parents were all born and raised, where they met their true loves, lived out their lives, and ultimately took their last breaths. So, it’s understandable that, in a way, Chickasaw County feels more like home to me than anywhere else I’ve ever been.

Grandmother Tabitha's grave

We visit the local cemeteries there, cleaning grass clippings and fire ant beds away from graves, putting new flower arrangements on headstones, and sticking bright new Confederate flags into the ground of the graves of our ancestors that served in the War Between the States. I point out different tombstones, explaining who each person is and how exactly we're all related. And, no trip to the Pleasant Grove cemetery, in Atlanta, would be complete without me venturing off down the hill to the oldest section of the graveyard, to check on my 5^th-great-grandmother Tabitha, and to let her know that, even after 170-years, she’s not been forgotten.

What was once part of the John L. 'Jack' Jennings plantation, in Hohenlinden, MS

As the resident history nut and family historian, I'm frequently haulin' us off out into the sticks, to some small, little used, almost-forgotten burial ground so I can introduce my parents to more of our great-grandparents. Other times, I’m pointing out where this or that ancestor’s plantation once stood or where Great-great-grandpa So-and-so used to live back in the 1860’s, 70’s, or 80’s. That information is compliments of years and years of genealogical research.

'Waverly Mansion'

On this trip, we also get to enjoy the occasional historical attraction or roadside oddity. We’ve toured Waverly Mansion, a gorgeous antebellum plantation home near West Point, Mississippi; looked upon the ‘Face in the Courthouse Window’, in Carrollton, Alabama; had our pictures taken in the giant Adirondack chairs at Ashville, Alabama; and stood beside a 32-foot tall tin man on Jim Bird’s farm, outside of Forkland, Alabama. And rest assured, 2017 will be no exception. I've got a visit to Confederate General Joe Wheeler’s beloved plantation ‘Pond Spring’, in Courtland, Alabama, planned, along with a few other interesting and odd sights mapped out, as well, for this year's trip.

When at last we roll back in at the Jennings Farm, in Cohutta, late Sunday evening, we will be thoroughly worn out, having logged more than 800-miles in three-days, over rough secondary roads for the most of that distance. Yet, we will have once again paid homage to our grandparents and family, retold their stories, and made even more wonderful memories in doing so. And I think that that’s what Decoration Day Weekend is about the most.... the strengthening of and reveling in of our family’s wonderful heritage.

‘FISHING WITH AN OUTDOOR LEGEND’

Wade Bourne - passionate conservationist, outdoorsman, & reknowned outdoor writer

          I first saw him on an episode of ADVANTAGE OUTDOORS, the TV show he was the host of back then. He was down in Mississippi, with a couple or three good ol’ boys, chest-deep in a muddy river, noodling for big ol’ Flathead catfish. Although, it was the accents of his fishing partners that first caught my attention, it didn’t take but just a few minutes for me to become a big fan of him and his show. Here was an outdoor TV show host hunting and fishing the regular places, in the ways that the most of us regular folks do, instead of the once-in-a-lifetime exotic excursions that other outdoor shows typically showcased. This guy seemed like just a regular Joe, someone that’d be cool to be around, and I wanted to meet him. So.... what did I do?

A good producing pool

          I GOOGLED him, of course. I found an email address for him, and after a bit of correspondence (5-years’ worth, actually), not only did I finally get to meet him, but I actually got to fish with him!

          Now, I’d been telling him for years about my favorite ‘fishing hole’ the Conasauga River, so when he got asked to write an article for BASSMASTERS magazine on fishing for Redeye (Coosa) Bass, in Georgia, I was who he hollered at. Within minutes, we had everything set-up for a two-day fishing trip later that summer and were both looking forward to finally getting to fish together.

A typical Conasauga River Redeye (Coosa) Bass

          Upon his arrival in Cohutta, that July, it was if I was meeting an old friend instead of just making his acquaintance. He was one of the friendliest, most personable people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Soon after we got him settled in, we headed on over to my parents’ house, where we’d been invited to supper. Over a meal of fresh vegetables straight out of the garden, cornbread, and lots of sweet tea, we had a grand time, telling stories and laughing for hours. He fit right in with our family, and by the end of the evening, he had endeared himself to all that were there.

Where the first Redeye of the day was caught

         The next morning, we got an early start, putting-in on the river there at the little sawmill community of Conasauga; and before we could even get underway, my guest had hooked into his very first Redeye Bass. He remarked on the fight it put up once hooked, and deemed this catch a sign that we were to have a good day of fishing. And, Boy, was he right! For the rest of the day, we wore ‘em out, catching fish after fish. We swam small plastic tube jigs through eddies, bounced curly tails off of drop-offs, and stripped white streamers alongside grass beds, pulling in a fish on almost every cast. We caught fish until we were actually getting tired of catching fish. LOL

Redeyes go for flies, too, especially small streamers

         We took lunch that day on a shoal in the middle of the river, in the shade of the huge trees that line both river banks. I surprised him with sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, and you should’ve seen the grin on his face when he opened his to find thick-sliced bologna, red-ripe tomatoes, and lots of mayonnaise on white loaf bread. I had remembered his mentioning a long while back that that was one of his favorite sandwiches; so, early that morning, I had called up to Manis Grocery, our little town’s only store, and had Ben, the proprietor, make us up a couple for lunch.

Wade Bourne with a nice Spotted Bass

Throughout the day, we swapped stories, told some tall tales; he taught me a few tricks, and I showed him a couple of my own. Most important, though, we had a good time and we caught fish.... a lot of fish. We tried for a while to keep a running tally, but that didn't work. In the excitement of catching, we lost count. Our total for the day easily topped a hundred.

By the time we reached our take-out point at Easley Ford, our catches had gone from mostly Redeyes to mostly Spotted Bass, as we were on the downstream margins of the former’s habitat in the Conasauga River. As we glided under the old concrete span bridge that arched out over Easley Ford, we found ourselves sun-scorched and thoroughly worn-out, yet pleasantly satisfied with the excellent day of fishing we had been blessed with.

After a bit of bushwhacking to get back up on the road, we loaded up and called it a day, stopping briefly at the Beaverdale Superette for an ice-cold soft drink in a glass bottle; a time-honored tradition amongst me and mine after a long day on the river.

         The next day, with only half the day to fish, we headed up into the mountains of the Cherokee National Forest to wade fish the Conasauga’s upper Redeye Bass habitat. That morning, in those clear, cold pools there, we caught even more impressive fish than we had the day before. Here, they might’ve been a bit smaller than their brothers further downstream, but they more than made up for it with their vivid colors and the impressive fights they put up. And, for a second day in a row, the fishing gods were good to us.... for we wore ‘em out here, too. By noontime, it was time to call it a day and head back towards the house. My guest had a long trip ahead of him to get back home.

Above the very last pool we fished together that day, there’s a section of the river that’s just plumb full of big boulders that are a haven for Copperhead snakes; so much so, that normally we all avoid the area like the plague. This day, though, that pool was just too tempting, and we couldn’t resist wetting a line just one more time before we left.

One of those upstream Redeyes of the 2nd day

         So, in we waded, and immediately began reeling in Redeyes, one right after another. And, let me tell you.... the fishing WAS impressive. So, trust me when I say, to us, the risks were definitely worth the reward. And, as real men typically do when something starts to make us a bit nervous.... such as 3- and 4-foot-long pit vipers swimming around you.... we started cracking jokes, in an effort to break the tension.

After having watched three or four such snakes swim across the pool we were in, mere rod lengths both above and below us, he dared me to see if I could hook one with my next cast. I responded that I’d gladly do it, provided HE took it off the hook for me. With a big ol’ ear-to-ear grin, he cocked his wading stick back over his shoulder like a baseball bat and said, “All right! Have at!” And that’s how our fishing trip ended; two successful days of fishing, lots of laughs, and wonderful memories.

I found out, earlier this week, that Wade passed away in December. He had just come in from cutting his family a Christmas tree, when he collapsed, suffering a massive heart attack. I will cherish always the memories of that fishing trip, just as I will being able to have gotten to know him.

* Wade Bourne (1947-2016)

His name was one of the most recognized in the outdoors. He was a full-time outdoor broadcaster/writer whose works have appeared regularly before national listening, viewing, and reading audiences over the past four decades.

A veteran contributor to many of the nation's leading outdoor magazines, Wade was Editor-at-Large for Ducks Unlimited Magazine and Senior Writer for Bassmaster Magazine, with more than 3,000 articles published in outdoor magazines. He was also the author of six hunting and fishing books.

He was also the founder and host of the award-winning Wired2Fish/Hunt Radio, a syndicated fishing/hunting radio show that airs year-round throughout the U.S. on approximately 280 stations. For 16-consecutive years prior, he had hosted In-Fisherman Radio (north, south, and west editions), the largest syndicated outdoor radio show in North America; hosted/co-hosted Ducks Unlimited TV (Outdoor Channel, Pursuit Channel) for the past 10-years; and for 7-years before to that, he hosted the weekly hunting/fishing adventure series Advantage Outdoors TV on The Nashville Network (TNN).

He was inducted into the Legends of the Outdoors Hall of Fame, in 2003, and into the National Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame, in 2005. In October of 2014, Wade received the Southeastern Outdoor Press Association's Lifetime Achievement Award (only the seventh recipient of this award in SEOPA's 50-year history). And, in 2016, he received the prestigious Homer Circle Fishing Communicator Award from the Professional Outdoor Media Association/American Sport Fishing Association.

And, let's not forget his service to our country during the Vietnam War, as a bomber pilot, in the United States Air Force. Thank God for our veterans!

"A man's man, a man of honor and intelligence and ability and good humor, and also one
                who never took his own celebrity seriously." - Frank Sargeant, friend & colleague of Wade's

'KNOW YOUR HERITAGE'

"To Know Your Heritage Is To Know The Story Of You"
                                                                           - Barry D. Jennings

Your heritage is not simply names, dates, and place names set in ink on some paper chart. Your heritage is the story of who came before you, how they lived, how they died, and most importantly, the neat little bits of information that makes it all interesting.     

I know that not everybody’s a history nut, like I am.... but I’ve yet to see anybody that didn’t show at least a li’l interest when it comes to hearing about what their ancestors were like and some of the stuff they did back in their day.

There ain’t nothing more fascinating to people than other people, living in a different time, in different circumstances.... and when you know those people are your kin.... well.... that just seems to make it even more so.

Before I started digging into my own family’s history, I had always thought of my ancestors as just your average, every day, run-of-the-mill country folk; cotton farmers mostly, with a logger or two thrown in for good measure. Boy, was I wrong!

I can now boast that my ancestors were amongst the very first to settle in the New World. My 9^th-great-grandfather Captain John Thomas Clay, Jr. arrived at Jamestown, in February of 1613, aboard the ship ‘Treasurer’, and as a Grenadier in the King’s Army (which back then would’ve been their most elite group of soldiers), it’s not only probable, but highly likely that he was amongst those that captured/kidnapped the Indian princess Pocahontas, later that summer.

Then there was the case of one of his sons, my first ancestor of that line to be born in America, who later got himself all tangled up in America’s very first rebellion, taking up arms against the colonial government under Nathaniel Bacon, back in 1673.

The story of French Huguenot Bartholomew Dupuy's
               escape from France is absolutely spellbinding. 

          I also found out that one of my great-grandfathers was a French Huguenot, of all things. I would never have thought that. A much-respected Lieutenant in the King of France’s Household Guards, he and his family, with the covert assistance of the King, had narrowly escaped religious persecution and possible death at the hands of the Catholic church, finally settling in Colonial Virginia, right around 1700.

One of my favorite stories, though, is of the first of my Jennings ancestors to come to America. Captain William Jennings, Sr. was a decorated officer in the British Regular Army. He had served in the British Indies, as well as, the colonial Indian Wars, before finally settling in Colonial Virginia, around the year 1700. There, he owned a tobacco plantation and tavern, raised a total of ten children, and led a very long and productive life; finally passing away at the ripe old age of 99-years.

Because of his strong disapproval of the revolutionary processes then going on in the British American colonies, as well as, his pride in his own service rendered to the Crown, Captain Jennings left instructions that he should be buried in his British Army uniform. Well.... his family did their level best to comply. They really did. Capt. Jennings was laid to rest with his sword by his side.... but the uniform.... well.... it had to be draped over his body instead of put on him. You see, he had grown excessively fat by the time of his death, and it just wouldn’t fit anymore. LOL

         Make no mistake, though.... as loyal to the Crown as ol’ Grandpappy Jennings was, his sons and grandsons were just as dedicated to the cause for freedom, with every single one of ‘em taking up arms against the British and/or rendering aid and supplies to the American forces. I had other grandfathers that also served - Clays, Pittmans, Lockharts, Springers, et cetera – some were in the Continental Line, others amongst various militia units; many were privates, some sergeants, while others were officers.

WOW!! My family’s history ain’t near as bland as I first thought! And that’s just a few examples out of the many, many generations of my family that I've researched. As it turns out, my ancestors actually played some pretty cool parts throughout the past 400-years of American history. They were the hardy settlers that, despite near constant Indian attacks, were ever moving westward, opening up new lands for settlement. They cleared land for planting and built homes and farms and even plantations. There were some small farmers, Bible-thumpin’ preachers, one-room schoolhouse teachers, millers, and even some wealthy slave owners and political figures. They volunteered for or were conscripted to fight for the Confederacy; their families back at home suffered through four bloody years of a not-so-civil war. They survived Reconstruction, two World Wars, the Great Depression, and the Civil Rights turmoil of the 1960’s; not to mention scores of other lesser unnamed events. 

After Grandma passed away, 'Paw' Jennings
                came to live with his eldest son and his family.

          My ancestors were independent-minded, God-fearing people, who held their religion and family above all else. With just a little bit of digging around, it’s easy to see that my family never seemed to have much need for orphanages nor nursing homes, as they always seemed to come together to take care of their own. That same dedication to family is still so very strong in our family, even today, and that’s one of the things I’m most proud of as a Jennings.

My Momma has asked me several times before, how on Earth do I remember all that I do about our families’ histories. My answer is simple.... their stories are so unbelievably interesting. It’s almost like reading a favorite book or watching a great movie; the more you discover about the central figures, the more you want to learn about them.

Knowing and understanding details from our families’ histories give us a deeper, fuller appreciation of where we’ve come from and who we are as a person.A big part of who we are, as individuals, comes directly from our ancestors. Not only do we inherit our looks and temperament from them, it’s also where we get much of the attitudes and outlooks towards many things that we have. It’s not surprising then, that research suggests that when we have intimate knowledge of our family history, we feel more grounded and self-confident compared to individuals who don’t.

The stories are there, folks. With just a bit of effort on your part, you can begin uncovering long-forgotten details about your family’s history. I should probably warn you, though. It can become addictive; this learning where you come from.