The interesting thing about the South is our ability to improvise. Nothing in the South and among Southerners is broken, until it can no longer be fixed. That is our spirit, that is how we live day to day. We will figure it out, just give us minute.
When my youngest son was about five, he beguiled me with an interesting term, a provocative definition of the “right now,” the today. He called today – yestermorrow. How creative, I thought. It embraced the past, one foot in remembrance, and the other in the future, looking forward toward the next step. Dixians have one foot in the past, our boots firmly planted in our soil, our culture, and one foot in the future, looking forward to that day when we can live in peace without outside agitators.
We are in the yestermorrow, we have to be creative, wise, cunning, unapologetic, steadfast, and resolute. When trouble comes, and it surely will, we must be about our wits. All things change, nothing is stagnant. We are here, the time is now, we are in the heat of yestermorrow, divinely brought to this point. You are reading these articles, following our other media, and building networks of families for a common cause. Yesterday is worthy of our thoughts, our defense, and tomorrow will be brighter for what we do today.
I wrote this poem embodying the spirit of that young boy, who created the term, and I hope it inspires creativity among us.
Henry McHenry lived in a tree
And for he,
It was the only,
Well, the only place to be.
Each day he would listen,
To his thoughts with intent,
Devising a way,
To be less discontent.
Not that he did not,
Enjoy all he’d acquired,
He looked everyday,
And ever day he admired.
His achievements were grand,
From intentions to inventions,
With gadgets and gizmos,
Beyond all convention.
Made out of things,
Only the bold could acquire,
Wrestled from wreckage,
And things less desired.
Things no one wanted,
Discarded and rotten,
Broken and battered,
And sometimes forgotten.
Items of inspiration,
Some considered worthless,
Though Henry’s discontentment,
Valued them as priceless.
So Henry’s irritation,
Was meant to teach a lesson,
For Henry, discontentment,
Really was a blessing.
It moved him to be different,
Caused him to achieve,
Reminded him to dream,
What no one would believe.
Henry McHenry lived in a tree,
And for he,
It was the perfect,
The perfect place to be!
God Save the South!
Service to God and honor to the South.
Mourning how far Dixie has fallen (been knocked down, but not out) will not save us. We will win a bright future or perish as a race depending on how well we foresee, create and adapt to what is coming.
The future will never exactly replicate any point in the past, but that doesn’t mean it cannot be great, or even better.
Agreed
As we move forward we must know the past or we will have the same crisis of identity the Yankees have. That means every aspect of our society right down to the day to day life level. The future is the past in our case.
Agreed. Even our holidays must reflect our history, our Christian religion.
The imperial calendar must be rejected at every level. It’s really easy, since most holidays we originally reflections of our history.