On Saturday morning, May 29, I would don the uniform of the Southern soldier and station myself at the corner of Main Street in the beautiful city of Black Mountain, North Carolina. I had been there for an hour or so basking in the love of those who passed by waving, blowing their car horns, shouting out my name, and bringing me libations as I stood there with the Southern Cross in hand when suddenly I was approached by an angry middle age white man.
Nigger, he would retort. Why are you standing there with that Confederate flag. Didn't we win that war? You'se should be ashamed of yourself, he continued. I should take that flag from you and whip you with it.
I hope that God forgives me, because as he came closer as if to carry out this proposed threat. I hit him right across his mouth with the bamboo pole that supported my flag. As blood gushed from his mouth, he again cursed me, and threatened to call the police and have me arrested. Proclaiming that he had a First Amendment right to say what he pleased to me, and that I had no right to strike him. I told him that the police station was less than 100 yards behind me and that two mighty fine police officers had just left after giving me a hand salute. He stormed off still cursing. I would remain for several more hours without incident as the spirit of my Southern family appeared so uplifted by my presence.
On Monday, Memorial Day, May 31, I would once again don the uniform of the Southern soldier and attend the Asheville-Buncombe Memorial Day Ceremony at Veterans stadium in the City of Asheville, North Carolina. I was overwhelmed by the more than gracious reception I received by not only the many citizens who had come but by the Cub and Boy Scouts and their commander who fussed over me as he insisted that I partake of the water that he offered me, and the young Cub Scout Mark, who stood by my side for most of the program and recanted the love that he had for his grandfather who had passed away not long ago, and who was in the military. And the hand salute that I received by the Navy Admiral Vasilik who would give the keynote speech.
While the mayor would pass less than two feet from where I stood with not even a glance in my direction, I would shake the hand of the county commission chair, the chief of police, and many of his men, the Chair of the Committee for Veterans Affairs, and nearly all the veterans in attendance. I was so pleased when I heard a stanza of Dixie played on a recording of military music, and even more so as so many participants like the lady who came before me with tears in her eyes, thanking me for posting the Confederate Battle Flag .
I would leave the ceremony and station myself on the bridge over Interstate 40. It would suddenly began to rain, but I could not leave the arena where I was receiving so much love. Not even as thunder and lighting began in earnest on this day would I leave. I could only think about how God had protected me on so many occasions while out with my flag. I just didn't think that he would let lightning strike me on this day. And while it continued to rain, the sun would come out and a rainbow would appear on the horizon. It had been a great day in Dixie. May God bless all the soldiers of today and the past.
— H.K.Edgerton
Asheville
Why on earth would the Express print this? Edgerton has as much right as he wants to carry the flag and spout this nonsense; but why give him a forum in a respectable newspaper?
How about the Express print something which acknowledges the millions killed in the transatlatic slave trade, the countless slave deaths from starvation and over work, the countless breaking up of husbands from wives, children from mothers, the countless forced rapes of masters upon their slaves?
I cannot fathom what goes through the mind of someone who will defend a nation that tortured, enslaved, and degraded his ancestors. A nation, I might add, which rebelled against this country and killed more Americans than the Nazis. Edgerton is as ludicrous as a Jew carrying around a Swastika.
On Memorial Day, we need to fly the flag of Abraham Lincoln and the United States of America.
Carry on the fight H.K.! The transatlantic slave trade was firmly entrenched in the North as a business arrangement (often among those in high station including lawyers and judges) with the South. (And yes, the Emancipation Proclamation freed no Northern slaves.) But the slave trade was predicated on tribal warfare and the spoils of war of black men selling black men before the middle-men the Dutch became involved. The Confederate soldier was noble in defense of his homefires. Tell it like it was.
Bert-The Xpress published this totally unverifiable, more-than-likely totally fabricated nonsense because they love giving the lunatic-right traction and attention. Much like giving stewart david free-reign in the letters section, or Chad Nesbitt free reign to spew his bizarre world view all over the blogs.
To Bert, and to pff- Not only is Mr. Edgerton for real, as is his story, but he is highly regarded, in some circles, as an example of a person (and I do not like to use “The Race Card” here) who was of one mind, and had his mind changed, in his case, by his Brother.
H.K. was the head of the local chapter of NAACP, in Asheville. His Brother convinced him, simply by HIS attitude, to do his own research into the whole Southern/white/black thing. Having his eyes opened, as I did (and yep, I am White) the revelation of the TRUTH set him free.
Maybe the both of you should put aside your Yankee/To-the-Victors-write-the-History pre-conceived notions, and do some reading.
You might just come away with a different set of beliefs.
To HK,(Proud to call you Brother) my friend. Keep up the proud work, and may the truth never be stifled.
Rick Myrtue, in Missouri. Deo Vendice