Old soldiers never die . . .

Today I had the opportunity to take a young single mom out looking for a new home for herself and her two young sons. She is not in a position to spend a lot of money. She can only spend around $200,000. I did some searching and found a bank owned property.

Now, the fellow that lived here did not leave the house in great shape. As we went from room to room, it was apparent that a major clean up was necessary. The house was filled with trash. We walked around a bit and she was encouraged that beyond the mess, there were possibilities. The yard was large and fenced and perfect for her sons. We stood on the front stoop and looked up and down the street. She mentioned the neighborhood had a nice feel to it.

I walked her to her car and she said “I am going to call the lender and see if we can make this work.” She got in and drove down the street. She had not reached the corner when I reached her on the phone.

“I think you should drive back. There is something I just noticed across the street. ”

She turned around and drove back to where I was standing. She got out of her car and walked over to me. I pointed to the item attached to the fence across the street. She looked and shook her head. The sorrow in her eyes represented a pain that is much deeper than her tender years should understand.

I said, “I will get back into the system and see what else there may be in your price range.”

She just nodded her head and whispered “I don’t want my boy’s first home to be the place they have to learn about this. I hope that by the time they read the history books, they will need to go to a museum to see this sort of icon. Thanks for calling me back.”

She got in her car and headed back down the street. I just stood and stared and wondered…how long?

I was staring at one of the few symbols of hate that some people think is appropriate.

 

It isn’t.

She called me tonight. She said “It was a good day. I would feel much worse if I bought the house and discovered that sort of person lived across the street later.”

Right now…………..that empty bank owned property will remain his neighbor. Maybe that is a good thing.

We live in a free country. I personally think that revering a way of life that thrived on inhumanity is very close to pathological deviance. I do not find the pockets of “good ole boys” that exist in every area to be anything other than proof that the illnesses that pervade society are home grown. I think that displaying the confederate flag as some form of solidarity with the believers in the confederacy is aberrant behavior. It is no more a symbol of the old south than the broken cross is a symbol of old Germany. Neither should be found anywhere other than a museum.

I am really glad I noticed the flag. I am even happier that I called her back.

She will find the right home. The fellow across the street, well if nothing else, there is comfort in knowing he will forever have to live with himself.

It is fitting that at today’s end a person of color has won a presidential primary as a member of a major party.

Old soldiers never die. Thankfully, they just fade away.

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