Civil War | Saying nothing in particular

My father, who would have turned one hundred and one years old today, always had “a twinkle in his eye.”

One of the last pictures I have of my dad. He’s the one with the mustache.

His brother-in-law, my Uncle Ralph, wrote at least three books on Abraham Lincoln: Lincoln, What He Stood For, Abraham Lincoln and the Western Territories and Lincoln Quotat (a collection of Lincoln sayings). Uncle Ralph was tall and thin – a lively man who taught speech and debate and, of course, quoted Lincoln at every turn.

And so, this morning as I fuddled about with some bills that needed paying I watched the HBO Max series: Lincoln, Divided We Fall. This series covers Lincoln’s entire life but primarily challenges the myth of Lincoln as a willing and eager abolitionist. While he always felt slavery was an abomination,

He began politics believing that the black race was inferior and that the two races could never peacefully coexist. The expansion of slavery to new territories was the issue that forced him to listen to his heart over his head. If they couldn’t erase slavery without severe consequences, they must not allow the abomination to spread. It was Frederick Douglass who convinced him the black man was not inferior and so he changed his mind. Changed his mind. Imagine. Such an impossible thing for a politician to do in this era of nonstop armchair quarterbacking.

Anyway Happy Birthday Dad. If there is an afterlife, I imagine you’re listening to Uncle Ralph tell another Lincoln anecdote, or perhaps debating the man himself! Wish I was there.

For #ThursdayDoors (Norm Frampton’s foray into doors around the world) I’m taking y’all to Fort Sumter which sits on a manmade island guarding Charleston South Carolina and which is where the American Civil War, or as the Southerners call it, the War of Northern Aggression, began. Oddly, the Southerners were the first aggressors, not the Northerners, but we were guests and so held our tongues when the subject of those vile Yankees came up.

Fort Sumter: doors leading to what’s left of the armory.

Charleston, a town on the south eastern coast of the United States, was founded in 1670 and until 1861 had been a major center of trade, including the selling of human beings. Although the surrounding rice plantations couldn’t survive without slave labor, in the town itself skilled slaves were often given the opportunity to buy their freedom and even own slaves themselves. So Charlestonians considered themselves quite genteel and fiercely resented Northerner implications that they were doing anything at all immoral.

Artist rendering of Fort Sumter.

After the state of South Carolina seceded from the union, they immediately demanded that the soldiers at Fort Sumter surrender to the newly formed Confederate army. The soldiers responded by flying a US flag so huge the fine citizens of Charleston could see it from their waterfront.

When the Confederates learned that a ship was on its way to supply Fort Sumter, they bombarded the island from two peninsulas on either side (the harbor is shaped like a fishbowl) until nothing remained but rubble.

Remarkably only two Union soldiers died and their deaths were the result of poor artillery training (they blew themselves up).

View coming into Charleston from Fort Sumter

When I looked across the bay at Charleston I couldn’t help imagining how the union troops must have felt. There they were, completely surrounded by fellow Americans who’d turned against them and wanted them dead or at least gone. They probably felt the way minorities feel in America today.

Looks like a ghost is down this tunnel, doesn’t it?

"All wars are civil wars because all
 men are brothers" 

François de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon
This Thanksgiving I’m grateful to call so many hardworking and decent people of all races, sexual orientations, and religions my friends. It’s horrifying to realize that so many of my fellow Americans don’t feel the same way.