"What The Colours Mean to Me"
Blessins to all,
On a quiet Sunday mornin’ here at Mole Church, and on a day that I have set aside for only family and heritage work, I have decided to start here.
It doesn’t take a PhD, Masters, Bachelors, Associate, or even a high school diploma for that matter, to know the real fight in the Southron trenches is over our colours.
I think it safe to say, it is somewhere in the neighborhood of 85 to 90% of the content of the posts on this and countless other Southern cyber sites. I would also say it is like 99.9% of the mainstream media coverage. Upon asking myself "Why is that?", I came to the simple conclusion that Confederate Colours mean different things to different folk. I would not dream to speculate what they mean to anyone else. I am however most willin’ to express what they mean to me!
When I see the Colours fly, be it on the flags here at Mole Church, or on a T shirt, or a bumper sticker for that matter, my first thought is always the same, pride and honour. If I think on it a bit harder, it transfers to stories told to me by my grandparents under big ole oak and willow trees on hot summer days, or around coal fired stoves in the middle of miserable illannoy winters.
The sight of the Colours brings back fond memories of seein’ it fly atop the drillin’ rig when I was working derricks and my daddy was either the driller or tool pusher on the rig. That flag flew whether the rig was set up in Bama, MS, Ohio, IN, OK, or any other of the countless states where we worked our tail ends off serchin’ for black gold. My daddy has been gone thirty one years, but the memories of working under "that flag" along side him, God willin’ will NEVER leave my memory banks.
In recent times "That flag" reminds me of the twenty plus thousand dollar position I lost for my belief in it, just four years back. It also reminds me of when I nearly got ran over by "Back Door Bob Holden’s" limo (former Gov. of MO) when I stepped off the curb in zero weather after flaggin’ for 6 hours with my MO. SCV brothers in Jeff Town. Fonder memories of my first GA. flaggin in Rome, when Pam, Mayme, and I just happened to be passing through there on vacation when the GA boyz were goin’ after "King Roy Barnes" (former Gov of Ga.) also come to mind. Even fonder memories come to mind when we participated in the "March on Hellanta" from Turner Field to the Gold Dome, when Cmdr. Sam Lyons, Billy Bearden, and myself got tossed from the "Peoples’ House" for refusing to surrender our Colours, while my good friend, brother and musician Bobby Mountain fiddled "Dixie" on the steps of the Courthouse lot. Lawd what a day that was.
I remember Pam and I standing in the cold rain outside "Vanderbilt University" early on in the UDC/SCV fight to retain the name on Confederate Hall.
When I see "That flag" I think of the more than 100 we placed in this county for free, through contributions from good people all over, and out of our own pocket, even if it meant eating beans and cornbread for days on end to supply the seemingly never ending requests from Copperheads up here.
So, I guess this post can be summed up like this…."The Colours" mean everything from sadness to jubilation to me and mine; and I give thanks unto the Lord that my ancestors fought for it, and that other ancestors taught me of it, allowing me to carry on that tradition to my three daughters who will in turn pass it on to their children! "The Colours" mean life and a hope for a day and time when truth prevails, and all those that have shamed her, refused to stand up for her ("well knowing they should have") but were too intimidated by PC to do so, get what they deserve. I believe with all my heart that day will come. I have to believe that way, for if I didn’t I’d never rise from my bed in the mornin.’
God Bless the South and her symbols, for they are the last bastion of truth in this country.
Bridgeport Illannoy flag flyer (and mighty proud of it)
Heritage Officer Capt. James Knox camp 2022 Ga. Div SCV