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A Civil Misunderstanding
- University of Arkansas Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
A Civil Misunderstanding Just up from the Tennessee Aquarium in Chattanooga, there are two bookstores: one bright and well lit, featuring new books by regional authors; the other dark, dusty, and severely over-crowded with shelves of old books and stuff overflowing onto the floor. The owner of the latter bookstore, a woman I later discovered was seventy-five years old, greeted me and asked if she could help. I declined her offer, saying that I just wanted to browse. The next customer, a young woman with a child, requested books for homeschoolers. The proprietress confirmed that she sold such books and added, “It’s your responsibility to educate your children , not the state’s.” A few moments later, the owner said to the child, “Homeschoolers will save America.” That last part raised my hackles, but I said nothing. First, I was a guest in her store. Second, I knew that the lady wasn’t really interested in my view that quality public education may well be the singular reason for America’s continued greatness. And I didn’t want to debate. I merely wanted to hang out and browse through the stacks of books. So I said nothing and moved toward the aisles of books. As I browsed, I noticed the books on the Civil War were located behind one counter. I sought out the owner and asked her permission to go behind the counter to view the books. She followed me back to the area and asked if I was interested in anything in particular. I mentioned that I was interested in anything having to do with the Immortal 600. 152 She said that she was not familiar with them and asked who they were. Because her accent was southern, I felt like I could establish some bona fides by telling her the story of the Immortal 600. I first said that my great-great-grandfather was one. He was a Yankee POW, having been captured in an attack on Knoxville and sent to a prison on the Delaware River near Philadelphia. In the winter of 1864, the Yankees took him and 600 other captured Confederates to the barrier islands outside of Charleston and used them as human breastworks in retaliation for the treatment of Union prisoners at Andersonville. I added that until Abu Ghraib in Iraq a few years ago, the treatment of the Immortal 600 was the last time the United States’ official policy on the treatment of prisoners of war conflicted with that of the rest of the civilized world. An inflammatory ending to the story, I know, but I really wanted to see her response now that I had established myself as a son of the Confederacy, and, more important, had two books tucked under my arm to buy. Her response was curious. She coldly said that the Yankees had starved her grandfather to death in a POW camp in Ohio. Her people figured that such were the ways of war. She continued by saying that the southerners hadn’t mistreated the Yankee prisoners at Andersonville— because there was widespread starvation and the Yankee POWs starved along with the southerners. She asked if I thought the Iraqis held at Guantanamo Bay had any rights. I was taken aback because she hadn’t responded as I assumed she would. She wasn’t treating me as a home boy but more like an intruder. “I’m not sure they have rights, but as a civilized nation, by taking and imprisoning them, we have an obligation to show the world how to act by treating them in a fair and humane manner,” I replied. She harrumphed, clearly not satisfied with my response. She then turned on her heel and left me alone to finish my browsing. I finished looking at her books and wandered back to the cash register to buy my two books. As she checked me out, we made small talk about the two books I was buying. Handing me a receipt, she smiled and said: “Come back and we’ll straighten your politics out.” Again taken aback, I smiled and said nothing but thank you. 153 [35.175.121.135] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 11:54 GMT) Heading toward Alabama, I reflected on my exchange with the book lady. I realized that her attitude toward me changed at the beginning of the story about the Immortal 600. It then occurred to me that she quit listening when I referred to my great-great...