Monday, February 10th, 2014

H. K. Edgerton Does His Non PC Black History Month

Spending a day with HK as he hits the streets for Black History Month…with a few surprises

[ Editors Note:  Most of you are familar with some of the past postings on HK and what and unusual person he is…one of a kind really.  The NAACP threw him out, and he never looked back.

We have more than a few here at VT that have been thrown out of a few places. As the old grannies would say, "It builds character."

HK has enough character for a teacher’s staff meeting, and he likes to hit the streets every now and then with his flag and uniform and rub shoulders with whomever he runs into. He has a lot of impact on many of them, not all, but many…which is a good lesson for the rest of us.

These can sometimes be combat patrols, as young toughs don’t always bring intellectual stimulation or respect for their elders to the table. Those days are long gone. But he has never run from them or ducked for a moment. And I can assure you that not a one of them will ever forget the day they met HK.

He doesn’t forget either and has been sharing his Confederate street preaching for the South, non politically correct encounters for many years now. I have no idea who Ms. Lunelle is, or if she even exists, as she could be an artistic foil that he uses to address his letters to. But it has worked.

When HK passes away, I am sure his ‘Letters to Lunelle’ will be pubished as a book and enter Southern folklore. And without further ado, I bring you the one and only HK Edgerton… Jim W. Dean ]

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Subject: An Open Letter & Open Report Sunday & Asheville High

Dear Ms. Lunelle,

Sunday morning February 9, 2014, I would don the uniform of the Southern soldier, and post his Colors at the entrance of Cracker Barrel Restaurant in Enka, North Carolina.

I would remain there for three hours in celebration of Black History Month. I would hold conversations with many folks and even accept prayer from the more than 20 who would come to where I stood and who would ask if they could pray for me and the work that I do.

I would later drive to Merrimon Ave., a street like many in Asheville that has a namesake of a Confederate soldier. After parking, I would march some two miles up Merrimon, post the Southern Cross for an hour, after holding several conversations with some very nice people.

Afterwards, I would head to the Folk Art Center in the Blue Ridge parkway for the final act of the play, Fresh Preserve, where I had a small acting part.

Monday morning, February 10, 2014, I would again don the uniform of the Southern soldier in celebration of Black History Month, and post his Colors at the entrance of Asheville High School in Asheville, North Carolina.

After an hour, a young Black Police Resource Officer would come and inform me that as long as I didn’t come on the school property, he would be looking out for my welfare.

Shortly thereafter, a White female teacher would come to where I stood, and ask me very politely if I would furl my flag and leave. My reply was that I would not. She went on to tell me about the young impressionable minds that I was affecting, and that one of them might take offense for something that might be said about me and my flag, and a fight would ensue.

I told her that she and the rest of the teachers should tell these Southern babies, with a few Yankee ones thrown in, the truth about not only the Black Confederate Soldier who went off to war, but those Africans who stayed at home and protected those plantations while the men were away, made the implements of war, provided the food stuffs for the Southern armies, and even fought alongside their Southern family.

I told her that she and her peers would celebrate so-called Black History Month and would never mention the likes of Levi Carnine who walk over a thousand miles through the enemy line of the Yankees, delivering letters and monies from the his fellow soldiers to take back home.

And then there was Holt Collier who was responsible for the term, Teddy Bear, after the war while he served as a tracker for President Roosevelt, or John Mills of Hendersonville, who like many of his peers had done, through hardship delivering the remains of his master whom he had gone to war with back home, or Horace King who was a bridge builder for the Confederate Army, and who built the spiral staircase in the Alabama Statehouse.

And let’s not forget the forty-plus Black men who had rode with Forrest to include the grandfather of (Napoleon Nelson) one of my dear friends Nelson Windbush, or even the Honorable Bob Stover of Elizabethton, Tennessee, for whom on June 7, 2014, I will serve as an Honor Guard at the grave of, as he is honored like many other Black Confederates have been.

I told her that there she was, a teacher, not saying one word to the babies about the farce of the Emancipation Proclamation now on display in the YMI Cultural Center being touted as freeing slaves, which had not freed one, or the Corwin Amendment that Lincoln wanted the Southern Politicians to ratify which would have forever kept them in slavery.

She would agreed with me, and tell me that her associates were at war and could not teach the things that I spoke of, and that even I was not allowed on campus on this day to do so.

I told her that it was up to her to keep the peace, and that on this day I would stay, and she and her peers would have to find a way to teach the truth.

She said she would try, and extended her hand for me to shake as I refused and gave her a big hug, as the Black bus driver who had stopped and held up traffic listening to our every word would close his window with a smile and wave.

I am so proud of the many, many Black folks who would shout out my name and wave with their thumbs up, and the many White folks who would do the same on this day at Asheville High School. God bless you.

Your brother, 

HK

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