Eastbound and Back, Day 32: Shiloh

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May 30, 2024, Ruleville, MS- There is a small mound, in the Shiloh Indian Mounds National Historical Landmark, that indicates the former dwelling place of a family of some status, in the vibrant community that once occupied a large area here, just west of the Tennessee River. On either side of the small mound is a larger mound, used for burials. The westernmost of these was used by the 28th Illinois Infantry Division, as a temporary burial site for its dead, after the Battle of Shiloh, in April,1862. The dead men were later laid to rest at Shiloh National Cemetery.

Shiloh,in Hebrew, means “tranquil; abundance”. The place bearing the name, in southwest Tennessee, was once that. In March and April, 1862, that all changed. The Civil War had come to western Tennessee and northern Mississippi. General Ulysses S. Grant had brought his troops int o the area, after a signal victory at Fort Donelson, north of Nashville, Facing them was the Confederate Army of the Mississippi, led by General Albert Sidney Johnston, based in Corinth, a major railroad hub and link between Memphis, Nashville and New Orleans. It was Corinth that was Grant’s true target. 23,000 men would die, in the course of this battle, making it the bloodiest episode in the American Civil War. https://npplan.com/parks-by-state/tennessee/shiloh-national-military-park-park-at-a-glance/shiloh-national-military-park-history-of-the-battle-of-shiloh-and-corinth/

Shiloh, prior to the battle, was a humble village of farmers, who had settled the area around 1816, having come by river, from Knoxville and Nashville. Farmers from Savannah, Georgia named the nearby County Seat for their former place of residence. Shiloh was named after a settlement in Samaria that had been referenced in the Bible (Jeremiah, 7:12-15.)

I have long wanted to visit this site, being dissuaded only by its remoteness and other more pressing concerns, when traveling to/from other parts of Tennessee. Today, there was lots of time, so I made three separate loops around the park, focusing somewhat on Pittsburg Landing and on the Shiloh Mounds. Here are some scenes of those loops, as well as of the short trail through the Mounds preserve.

Iowa Infantry Memorial, Shiloh National Military Park

Graves of comrades from Illinois, Shiloh National Cemetery, overlooking the Tennessee River, above Pittsburg Landing

View of Tennessee River, at Pittsburg Landing.

Site of wooden palisade, built by Iroquoian residents of Shiloh area, around 1200 A.D./C.E. It is not known why this wooden wall was built.

Burial Mound, Shiloh

Replica of Shiloh Meeting House (Church), which had served as General Johnston’s headquarters during the first parts of the battle

I left, rather shaken, especially after viewing the film about the carnage, Given current tensions in the nation, right now, it is instructive for anyone with a conscience to take time and review what happened, when the idea of enslavement of others became somehow conflated with the notion of preserving freedom. Nationhood is NOT a zero sum game.

Driving south and west, I made a brief visit to Sumner, MS, where the courthouse at which the accused killers of 14-year-ole Emmett Till were acquitted of murder charges. They later admitted having committed the crime. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmett_Till

Tallahatchee County Courthouse, where Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam were acquitted of the murder, to which they later confessed.

I had had enough of carnage and injustice, for one day, and have settled in for the night at Ruleville Inn, in the hometown of Civil Rights icon Fannie Lou Hamer. It’s a modest, but clean little place- albeit one where guests provide their own towels and wash cloths. The bed is new, though, and the TV works nicely.

Moms and Hearts

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May 14, 2023, Sparks- The young girl was all expectation and delight, as she left for an afternoon of cooking and honouring a friend’s mother. Three hours later, the same child returned to her home, crestfallen, on the verge of tears. Her grandmother, who had hosted us for a lovely Sunday dinner and watch party, took her place by the girl’s side, on a couch. My friend and I left, with quiet wishes that all would be better for her soon.

Another child, cousin to the girl mentioned above, is expectantly planning to be in a play, later this summer. Her mother and grandmother are carefully arranging the participation of various friends in supporting her efforts-and she expressed the hope that I will be there, when the play is staged, in late July. The women will remind me, though that is not necessary, for a child I have long regarded as a grand niece.

A mother who joined a virtual meeting earlier today was philosophical about not being able to see her family, as both she and her husband are in the late stages of recovery from COVID, and are waiting for final clearance from their physician, before taking a chance on visiting any loved ones. Her poker face fooled no one. She is no doubt in constant communication with both children and grandchildren, and will give them all they need of love and attention, in a fairly short time.

Mother’s Day was born in 1870, with the mothers of those killed and maimed, from both sides in the Civil War, coming together to seek healing, both for themselves and for their families, in the wake of the most horrific conflict this nation has ever seen. While the second Sunday in May has now largely assumed a festive air, there is still the basic element of heart sharing, in the course of the day.

My own observation of Mother’s Day is muted, to outward semblance. Mom doesn’t answer her phone, so sending her greetings and a small gift is all that physically transpires. from my end. We have a strong spirit connection, though, so that when I do manage to connect with her, in conversation, she will happily let me know that she felt blessed today. She will also be able to tell, by the sound of my voice, how I am doing, on that day. It has always been thus, between us.

The love of a mother, and of a grandmother, is the bedrock for just about anyone’s functioning, through life’s ups and downs.

Insurrection Is Not The Way

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January 6, 2021- After getting a welcome adjustment from my chiropractor, this evening, I happened by downtown Prescott, where a small group of Trump supporters were standing on the northeast corner of Courthouse Square, as they have been doing, at least once a week, since 2015. Quite often, there will be a group of progressives standing either across the street or on the northwest corner, at the same time.

I have seen the two groups even mingle, at many public events on the Square, since I moved here, in 2011. The only times there has been tension have been when rumours, of mobs from out of town coming this way, have circulated. There are always a few disquiet individuals, usually driving by in their vehicles and shouting profanities at whoever is in view, or egging on those they sense might be easily drawn into a fight.

That is not the Prescott way. Many have growing up to do, with regard to getting along with people of colour or with those whose politics differ from their own. The larger community, though, has adopted a “Live and Let Live” ethic. That was how I was raised, in a hybrid Conservative/Liberal family, albeit in one of the most conservative communities in Massachusetts.

The main divide, as I see it, has two parts: 1. There is a sense, among those who get up early and turn in a full day’s work, rely on their own efforts and have a strong sense of tradition, that “Socialists” are aiming to take from them and give to others. In fairness, this comes from high rates of taxation and the extent to which the workings of government entail secrecy. If people don’t know the rhyme and reason of matters that affect them, it becomes easy for manipulators and grifters to move in and get them stirred into a frenzy.

On the other hand, are those whose forebears, or selves, have been shoved to the back of the line, repeatedly, by self-styled elites, in terms of full participation in civic and economic life. These elites have not been shy about simultaneously turning to the group that may be one rung higher than those on the lowest level, and cautioning that group against trusting those underneath. The argument has always been, “Look, those _______________ are coming for what’s rightfully yours”, whilst either the taxes go up or rights and privileges, for ALL those under the elite groups, are systematically snipped away.

It is human nature to let others handle certain aspects of life which are viewed as either boring or distasteful. When those chores have to do with rights and freedoms, such “delegation” can, and does, get rather dicey. It has, especially in modern times, become analogous to the shellfish in a pot of cold water, that is slowly heating up and which will turn the shellfish into a meal. There is always a quid pro quo, when someone comes to us and points out discrepancies, “which only they can fix.”

Those who are genuinely worried about losing rights and freedoms can’t afford to let clever or manipulative people of privilege, whether liberal or conservative, sweet-talk them into doing dirty work. This was done before, by the Planter Class of the antebellum South, who had little trouble recruiting lower-class white and First Nations people to do the dirty tasks associated with the system of enslavement and , later, to fight in the insurrection against a Federal government that was moving away from supporting that system. Conversely, a similarly cynical and rapacious Industrialist Class had little trouble engaging that same Federal government to recruit lower-class white and African-American people to try and subjugate First Nations people, both during and after the Civil War.

I saw today’s actions on Capitol Hill as reminiscent of the French Revolution, which, as we know, did not result in wholesale gains for the downtrodden masses. There are those who wanted only to take a deep dive into the electoral process of 2020. But for the lateness of the hour, and the fact that it has already been done, in several modes, that would have hurt nothing.

There were those who have long felt unheard and unloved by society, their only misfortune being that they have not been “in vogue” as a protected class. If each such group were to look carefully at history and look ahead to what is likely to transpire, long term, there would not be a rush to the feet of demogogues. There would be quite a bit of coalition-building, and it would very likely NOT involve the elites, at least for quite some time.

Insurrection, done in the heat of the moment, requires a different sort of power coalition. It involves making deals with those already holding certain levers of power. The original American Revolution succeeded partly because European enemies of Great Britain jumped into the fray. The aforementioned French Revolution is one example-it being whipsawed by the external enemies of the House of Bourbon. Sudan’s recent revolution was eased by manipulative elements in the country’s military, who now, wonder of wonders, are holding the balance of power. The same would happen here, and those fearful of socialism would find a different set of external totalitarians calling the shots, were today’s events escalate into full-blown rebellion.

There is always a quid pro quo, when one turns to power groups with their own agendas to do one’s baleful tasks. The only way forward is to adhere to the basics that were provided us, by the Framers, and later the Amenders, of the United States Constitution, a time-honoured, and much emulated, road map of governance. That, and the common people talking and listening to one another, across lines of ethnicity, class, religion and way of life.

Insurrection is not the way.

The Turnstile Island

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June 29, 2019, Charleston, SC-

It was a still, warm day, even on the water, as the Noon ferry headed out of Charleston Harbor, towards Fort Sumter.  The hundred or so tourists and Park Service staff who were aboard were a far cry from the angry men who stormed Fort Sumter, after firing on the supposedly impregnable island fort, on April 12, 1861- the opening shots of the American Civil War.

The fort was one of those which  had been built as a response to the glaring lack of coastal defense, during the War of 1812.  Thus, it is ironic that Fort Sumter should have been the symbol of oppression, to many in South Carolina, and that it would change hands three times, during the Civil War’s progression.  Built with three stories, to convey the image of indestructible fortress, it was leveled by bombardment and was turned into an earthwork, by Confederate defenders, between 1861-63.

I have had Fort Sumter on my to-go list, since 2007, when we made a family “virtual field trip” journey, for Penny’s University studies.  We never made it to Charleston, among other places. Now, though,  the scintillating city. and Fort Sumter, were on my blog-topic itinerary..

Here are some scenes of the ferry route and of the Fort.  The park’s office and waiting area are adjacent to the South Carolina Aquarium, just north of downtown Charleston.

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Whilst waiting for the Noon ferry, I happened upon East Bay Deli, on a row of eateries, three blocks south of the Aquarium.  It is a perfect spot for a full line of made-to-order delicatessen foods.

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Below is a scene of Castle Pinckney, a small fortress from which Confederate forces harassed Union Naval vessels.

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This sand spit is used by Charlestonians as a private beach, and is not part of Fort Sumter.

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The first sight we saw, after the Ranger Talk, was of these cannon portholes.

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Here is one of the entrances to the lower breastworks.

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A full view of the cannon ports faces east.

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Sea shells were used to reinforce the mortar, during the fort’s repairs in 1862.

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The cannon portholes are sometimes shut

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and sometimes open.

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The cannon was always at the ready.

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The supports of the upper stories still remain, in several parts of the fort.

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For the person who has done everything, there is this:

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My money still needs to go elsewhere, but there it is.  This is one such cannon that has been adopted.

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Finally, here is a Howitzer, used by the Confederates, during their defense of the fort, in 1863.  The Union forces won that battle and retained control of the island, thereafter.

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Fort Sumter reinforced my view of the folly of war, when pursued as a means to safeguard ideology or narrow self-interest.  We have far more in common, as human beings, and thankfully have come a fair distance in viewing others in a positive light, since the Nineteenth Century.

NEXT:  Raleigh’s Capitol District

 

The Road to 65, Mile 24: A Refuge and A Fortress

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December 22, 2014, Truth or Consequences- It was a mild day, which I started with a lovely breakfast of Strawberry Pancakes and sausage patties, at Socorro’s El Camino Family Restaurant.  Once again, all the regulars were present; nobody named Strawberry, though.

I set out for my first visit to Bosque del Apache (Apache Woods), since Penny and I came here in 1983.  It made an impression then, and did so now.  There were more sandhill cranes back then, and one of the docents gave a reason for the relative decline in their numbers.  The cranes have become dependent on corn that is grown by a farmer, who is employed by the Refuge.  The farmer they had, left and so, if anyone is interested in growing corn, specifically to feed birds, and be part of an upbeat crew of wildlife managers- contact Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, US Fish and Wildlife Service.

I began my drive down El Camino Real (New Mexico Highway 1), with a stop at this defunct Catholic church, in San Antonio, NM.  This little village has few remaining residents,but it is still worth remembering.  Each small settlement along the Royal Road was once a major stop, for those on foot or on horseback.

SAM_3347 I was greeted, upon my entrance into the Wildlife Refuge, by a Greater Sandhill Crane, perched on a branch.  Of course, he flew off immediately as I got my camera ready to shoot.  Continuing on, I walked a 3-mile loop of Chupadera National Recreational Trail.  The whole trail, up Chupadera Peak and back, would’ve been 9 miles.  I had more on my agenda, so that can be done another time.  The cairns mark each length of the trail.SAM_3355 Watch out!  The snakes and scorpions may be hibernating.  Not so, the thorny bushes.SAM_3358 Out in the distance, lie the San Andres Mountains.SAM_3360 Ann Young was an avid birder, who has since passed on.  To make up for the relative lack of wintering birds this year, here is a video of one of her last visits to Bosque: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyecyGVWrto.SAM_3361 New growth is taking its place, all over Bosque del Apache.SAM_3363 From the window of the Visitor Center, one can sit for hours, just watching the various finches, wrens and hummingbirds eat their fill.  Many, though, prefer the findings on the ground and in the brush.SAM_3367 Believe it or not, a bald eagle is perched in the cottonwood tree on the right.SAM_3369 Trees growing up out of the sandbars create a safe haven for aquatic life, but also are a convenient place for raptors to sit and enjoy the view.SAM_3372 I walked this berm, around a marsh that is full, seasonally.  This is not the season of its fullness, but I got a sense of what it could be.  A Cooper’s hawk followed me around the loop, screeching, but never quite finding its favourite meal.SAM_3376 Raptors, cliff swallows and barn swallows make their nests in these sandstone cliffs.SAM_3383 SAM_3386 Here is an overlook, above the Marsh Trail.SAM_3389 When I climbed the path, this was my view.  Some say the Chihuahua Desert is more barren than the Sonoran.  Right now, I’d say they are correct.

SAM_3390 This is an oxbow of the Rio Grande, and trends towards dry, even when the river itself is full.SAM_3395 As you can see in Ann Young’s video, sometimes the bed under this boardwalk is full of water.  Not today.SAM_3396 SAM_3399 It is good enough for cattails, though.SAM_3400 My spirit friend was on the job.SAM_3401 Once back along the main flow of the Rio Grande, I spotted a Lesser Sandhill Crane, by its lonesome.SAM_3412 From the Eagle Scout Deck, more evidence of past drynesses and flows could be seen.SAM_3415 On my next visit to Bosque, I will focus more on the North Loop and the Canyon Trail.  It’ll also mean taking in a Fly-In, at sunset.

Continuing down El Camino Real, I came to a dirt road, which led me to Fort Craig, five miles eastward.  This National Historic Site is comprised of ruins, and figures in three sorry episodes of our nation’s history:  The Mexican War, which was its raison d’etre; the Civil War, during which Confederates from Texas tried to use New Mexico as a steppingstone to Colorado’s gold fields; and the Trans- Mississippi Indian Wars, which just led to more suffering and misunderstandings, on both sides.  That its ruins stand at all, however, show just how formidable Fort Craig was.  Walking these paths brought me back to the ramparts and walls of France, Belgium and Luxembourg.  The pilings below support the earthworks, which defended the fort against the Confederate force.

SAM_3416 This is what’s left of the Guard House and Jail.  Prisoners were segregated by race, as were the soldiers.SAM_3418 These are the remains of the Commanding Officer’s Quarters.SAM_3420 SAM_3421 The perimeter walls were more formidable than they look now.SAM_3425SAM_3426 Here is the Magazine Storage, where ammunition was kept safe and dry.SAM_3431 The Battle of Valverde, near Socorro, was a Pyrrhic victory for the Confederates.  They lost so much in materiel that they were unable to capture Fort Craig and hobbled on to Albuquerque, never gaining control of New Mexico.SAM_3435 I don’t believe I have ever cast such a long shadow.  Being tired by now, my course of action was to stop in the unique town of Truth or Consequences.  The story has been told by someone on my Facebook wall, but I will discuss it at length in “Mile 25.”

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