And why I wrote what I did
Dear Reader,
Below this note is a letter I sent to my community’s two local newspapers about a current controversy. This introduction is intended to provide context, including what I chose not to say for brevity and civility.
I live in Decorah in northeast Iowa. It is a blue city in a red county and State. Decorah voted for Kamala Harris over Donald Trump 65% to 35%, but Winneshiek County reversed that tally. This contrast is a perfect example of urban vs. rural and educated vs. the less educated regarding voting patterns in the USA.
I will also add that the Decorah City Council decided a few years ago to fly the Pride Flag on special occasions, which also elicited community-wide back-and-forth.
When the Winneshiek County Fair Board decided a month ago to bring the country-western group The Confederate Railroad to the July fair, I asked myself what contribution, if any, I could make to the public conversation. Those opposed had weighed in with one or another version of ‘anything with the Confederate name or image is a symbol of hatred.’
Those in favor countered with ‘it’s about love of the South, the region, and not about something that happened 150 years ago.’
Honestly, there is truth in both perspectives. Though I was unfamiliar with this group’s music, I went to their website linked above and started listening. I also wanted to know how they explained themselves and their choice of this name.
I came away from this liking many of their songs and them as well. In 2019, the group’s appearance at an Illinois County fair was canceled by a Democratic governor, JB Pritzker. It was interesting to read how they handled that situation.
One element of The Confederate Railroad’s music I liked a lot was the empathy they demonstrated for the southern ‘good ol boy.’ As far as I could tell, there was no racism in those songs, only a heartfelt perspective on the side of young southern males.
As I thought about what I might write, I began to play around with the idea that different groups in my country experience pain for one reason or another. It’s sometimes difficult to empathize with all of them as America’s politics often pits one against the other.
That forces you and me to choose.
Which I did in this letter.
Who Feels Safe?
I’m a 77-year-old white man born two years after Jackie Robinson integrated American baseball, 82 years after Appomattox, and the defeat of the Confederacy. The Confederate Flag that flies on private property several blocks from my home bellows 11 stars, each representing a slave state.
It could stand for love of grits and the southern way of life. After all, that’s why my brother Peter left for Georgia, Alabama, and Florida 50 years ago and never came back.
However, no one fights a war that killed 700,000 Americans for heritage. It was fought for specific material interests and ideological differences, including who is and who is not a man and a citizen.
Otherwise, separate drinking fountains, schools, and anti-miscegenation laws imposed on Black citizens as soon as Federal troops were withdrawn from the South make no sense. And nothing that lasts 80 years is without sense. Nor would these practices have changed without coercion by the Federal government.
And now, in our little neck of the woods, the Winnishiek County Fair Board chooses to bring in a band with Confederate Flag symbolism in its name and image, years after Walmart stopped selling, NASCAR race tracks banned, and southern states removed the Confederate slavery states’ flag from their capital buildings.
Yesterday, after a hike around Palisades Park, I decided to finish up around the fairgrounds. As I headed past the skateboard park, I had this urge only another man my age could understand. I looked around and ducked behind a large tree, confident that, if necessary, I could explain my predicament.
As I stood there, I thought to myself. What would I have done if I were a Black man?
Paul Gardner,
Decorah, Iowa.
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