A Southern Missive

Today I finished my read of James Lee Burke’s White Doves at Morning (Pocket Star Books, New York, 2002.  It is a novel, a New York Times Best Seller.  The back cover has this tag: “A Riveting evocation of the Civil War, drawn from the true family history of ‘America’s best novelist” (The Denver Post). As my blog has revealed from time to time, I read everything I can about the Civil War. While I’m most used to Burke’s detective novels, I was quite taken and quite surprised by this one. When I read something of the Civil War, I expect to run into the same tired old stereotypes (i.e.,Yankees all good and love all people, Southerners all bad and rascists). Burke surprised me though by a balanced and brutally honest treatment of both sides of the War and the people involved – Confederate and Federal, black and white – and masterfully word-painted touching societal and individual human portraits that I will never forget.  The novel is rich in historical allusions and details that could only have come from extensive research. The novel addresses many great themes related to the Civil War and the human condition and weaves stories of love, redemption, courage and fear, and politics to remind us of all that war did to us and how it changed us. I read several chapters before I realized that Burke’s heart was really in this story, that it was more than just a good tale. In short, if you like reading about America’s Civil War, I’d encourage you to read this novel.

As usual when I read Burke, my hand was busy underlining phrases and sentences–too many to list in this short review. However, here is one of the many that caught my eye with its profound insights:

“The denigrators and revisionists would eventually have their way with history, as they always did, Robert Thought, but for those who participated in the [Civil] war, it would remain the most important grand and transforming experience in their lives” (p. 379).

Seamus, my leprechaun, and I at NTIF

The above photos were taken at the North Texas Irish Festival in Dallas, March 2009.  The first is of me and Seamus, my leprechaun, who goes with me to every program now. The second is of Miranda Aranda of the duo, Arabesque. They make great music and are two of the most creative people I know of. The third is of me and Tom McCandlish performing on stage at NTIF.

Notes from Brownsboro, Texas:

Tomorrow is my last day with the school district at Brownsboro, Texas.  The kids and teachers have been wonderful. I’ve done two days of my Scots-Irish program and two days of Texas history programs.  Teri Green is the librarian in charge of the school system’s libraries and she is doing a grand job. She’s been taking photos and I should have some of them soon.

My friend Jed Marum has made a video that you need to see. It is of a song he wrote that I based one of my short stories on. My story is called, “Lily,” and his song is “Mama’s Lily.” This is a song that will move you to tears.  Here is what Jed says about the song: http://cdbaby.com/cd/jedmarum3

MAMA’S LILY (c) Jed Marum, 2004

This song retells the true story of a little girl who was killed in a minor military operation during the US Civil War near Charles Town WV.

Irish immigrant and Yankee soldier, William McCarter came across the scene just moments after it had happened. He was so heartbroken by the incident and he retold it with such care in his diary that the story and the heartbreak have carried on through 150 years, in McCarter’s memoirs, MY LIFE IN THE IRISH BRIGADE – in this song by Jed Marum from his FIGHTING TIGERS OF IRELAND album – and in a beautiful short story written by author Rickey Pittman in his book, STORIES OF THE CONFEDERATE SOUTH.

For more about Jed Marum, check here http://www.jedmarum.com/

Go here on YouTube to see the video and hear the song. In fact, you should view every video of Jed. I truly believe that he is one of these folk singers whose songs are going to change the world.  Here are the lyrics to “Mama’s Lily.”

She was just her Mama’s Lily
A pretty child, curious and bold
As I stood there with Michael O’Reilly
She might have been seven years old
She’d been placed high atop the piano
And arranged there with love and with care
By an African servant, her nanny
Cutting locks of the little girl’s hair
There were tear-soaked locks of her hair.

CHO:
And it’s a hard cold edge to the wind tonight
It’s a bitter wind, cuts to the bone
& cruel is fate when its power and its might
To both guilty and innocent are shown
To both guilty and innocent shown

Charlestown was easily taken
Federal batteries had helped clear the way
When we went down to see,
Michael Reilly and me
The Rebel force had melted away
She’s been standing alone in the window
Watching soldiers retreat south and west
There was nothing to do,
When a cannonball flew
Through the window,
And on through her chest
Tore her arm and her heart
From her breast
CHO

Now I know we must fight for the union
But what a terrible price must be paid
And to make this land free,
Michael Reilly and me
Well we joined with the Irish Brigade
Now I look through my tears on this Lily
Shattered before she could bloom …
Still through death on her face
Shine her beauty and grace
Though she died from a terrible wound
And no child should ever die from such a wound.
CHO