Alarm goes off. I get out of bed, hit snooze, and crawl back under the covers.
Me: [poke Bobby] Hey, sweetie… you awake?
Me: I had the weirdest dream. I was singing.
Me: You wanna know what I was singing?
Me: K, I’m gonna sing it for you. Ok?
Me: Ok, here goes.
In a dreary Yankee prison
Where a rebel soldier lay
By his side, there stood a preacher
Ere his soul should pass away.
And he faintly whispered “Parson”
As he clutched him by the hand.
“Oh, Parson, tell me quickly.
Will my soul pass through the Southland?”
Me: That’s all I remember. There’s a part about Dixie in there too, I think. But the song ends with the rebel soldier dying.
Me: [poke Bobby] Hey, you awake? Did you hear my song?
Nothing like a mournful Confederate ballad to kick off a Wednesday morning, right? Yep, down here in the good ole South, where we recreate our history at will, we’re still fighting that damn Civil War (more commonly known in these parts as the War of Northern Aggression). Is it weird that I grew up in a house where a book entitled “If the South Had Won the Civil War” was prominently displayed alongside the Holy Bible and Encyclopedia Britannica? Just wondering…