My Photo

Korean Radio/TV

Blogs about that part of Asia that isn't Korea

« Now I feel guilty about having a Korean girlfriend.... OK, not really | Main | Hey! I've been published! »

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Comments

usinkorea

A couple of points I thought of on reading this. About how hard it is to get people to understand that everyone who uses the confederate flag is not a stone cold racists. I don't use one, but do people really believe all those people who take part in civil war reenactments and what not want to see a return to slavery or are members of the KKK? There are some people in the South who have a pride in being Southern and accept its history, disgusting warts and all.
Also, when I was preparing to go to grad school, my advisor told me to go to school outside the South, because if I didn't, I'd never be able to teach anywhere but in the South, which I guess implied that would be a fate worse than death. Then when I went to grad school and was talking with the class about the use of dialect in a modern Brit novel and mentioned what my prof had said about getting out of the South, it got a big discussion going in the department - they started to notice that a fair number of the profs in the department were from the South, but none had a Southern accent (now). You see. It was shocking to many of these teachers in a department that does a lot on post-colonial studies that perhaps a tiny bit of fascisim was at play in their own thinking as well. That they had actually altered themselves due to some social modifying force/mechanism and then were probably subconciously doing the same in their own careers even though they believed themselves to be so progressive...

Morgan

Hi, I've read your blog on and off for a while and have always enjoyed it. This recent post brought to mind an old favorite poem of mine.
-Morgan

THE HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG

A cloud possessed the hollow field,
The gathering battle's smoky shield:
Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed,
And through the cloud some horsemen dashed,
And from the heights the thunder pealed.

Then, at the brief command of Lee,
Moved out that matchless infantry,
With Pickett leading grandly down,
To rush against the roaring crown
Of those dread heights of destiny.

Far heard above the angry guns
A cry across the tumult runs,--
The voice that rang from Shilo's woods
And Chickamauga's solitudes,
The fierce South cheering on her sons!

Ah, how the withering tempest blew
Against the front of Pettigrew!
A Khamsin wind that scorched and singed
Like that infernal flame that fringed
The British squares at Waterloo!

A thousand fell where Kemper led;
A thousand died where Garnett bled:
In blinding flame and strangling smoke
Their remnant through the batteries broke
And crossed the works with Armistead.

"Once more in Glory's van with me!"
Virginia cried to Tennessee;
"We two together, come what may,
Shall stand upon these works to-day!"
(The reddest day in history.)

Brave Tennessee! In reckless way
Virginia heard her comrade say:
"Close round this rent and riddled rag!"
What time she set her battle-flag
Amid the guns of Doubleday.

But who shall break the guards that wait
Before the awful face of Fate?
The tattered standards of the South
Were shriveled at the cannon's mouth,
And all her hopes were desolate.

In vain the Tennessean set
His breast against the bayonet;
In vain Virginia charged and raged,
A tigress in her wrath uncaged,
Till all the hill was red and wet!

Above the bayonets, mixed and crossed,
Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost
Receding through the battle-cloud,
And heard across the tempset loud
The death-cry of a nation lost!

The brave went down! Without disgrace
They leaped to Ruin's red embrace;
They heard Fame's thunders wake,
And saw the dazzling sun-burst break
In smiles on Glory's bloody face!

They fell, who lifted up a hand
And bade the sun in heaven to stand;
They smote and fell, who set the bars
Against the progress of the stars,
And stayed the march of Motherland!

They stood, who saw the future come
On through the fight's delirium;
They smote and stood, who held the hope
Of nations on that slippery slope
Amid the cheers of Christendom.

God lives! He forged the iron will
That clutched and held that trembling hill!
God lives and reigns! He built and lent
The heights for freedom's battlement
Where floats her flag in triumph still!

Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns!
Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs.
A mighty mother turns in tears
The pages of her battle years,
Lamenting all her fallen sons!

Will Henry Thompson

The comments to this entry are closed.