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I was born on April 12, 1861,
in the Harbor of Charleston, South Carolina and the Constitution of the
Confederate States of America is my Birth Certificate. The blood lines of the
South run through my veins, for I offer freedom that each State should regulate
her own affairs, according to its best interest. I am many things and many
people I Am The South. I am millions of living souls, and ghosts of
thousands who died for me. I am the Farmer-made soldier who did not turn his
back during Pickett's Charge. I am the Rebel Yell that was heard across many of
my rolling fields, protecting our homeland. I am Robert E. Lee and Thomas J.
Stonewall Jackson: I stood at Fort Sumter and fired the shot heard through our
young nation. I am Longstreet, Hood and Patrick R. Cleburne. I am General's
Johnson, Beaugard and President Jefferson Davis. I remember how we fought in
Gettysburg, Cold Harbor, Vicksburg, and Atlanta. When duty called I answered
and stayed until it was over. I left my heroic dead in Chickamauga, in the fields
of Shiloh, on the bloody hills of Mannassas and the mountains of Kennesaw. I Am The South. I am the Mississippi River, and the cotton fields
of Alabama and the piney woods of the Carolinas. I am the coal fields of
Virginia and Kentucky, the Florida coast and the Louisiana bayou. I am
Richmond, the Capitol of the Confederacy. I am the forest, field, mountain, and
rivers. I am the quiet villages and the cities that never sleep. I am the
Heritage that's been forgotten, the dying memory of a way of life that is being
still. You see me in the twilight and hear me in Dixie, as the past continues
to fade away each year. Yes, I Am The South, and these are the things I represent . I was
conceived by force, and God willing, I'll spend the rest of my days remembering
my birth. May I always possess the integrity and the courage, and the strength
to keep my Heritage alive, to remain a Loyal Southerner and stand tall and
proud to the rest of the world. Do not forget: who we are; what we are and
where we came from.... This is my goal, my hope, my prayer. Written by 95 year old Louise Weeks of Hampton, Georgia, two weeks
before her death. |