This one night, over 30 years ago in Japan, my roommate and I were in the process of demolishing a fifth of vodka. He had just found out that he was a father ... of a three year old boy!
I was acting as his sounding board.
It got drunk out that night.
He was from Georgia and at one point along the way to morning he spoke of the South's current and undying disdain for all things "Yankee." He said that he liked me and that I was a fine fellow but ...
"We call it the War Of Northern Aggression and the South will never forget it. Don't you!"
I took it all with a grain of salt ... I'd never been to the South.
I figured it was the vodka talking.
Today I found this on the web:
"Three hundred thousand Yankees
Lie still in Southern dust
We got three hundred thousand
Before they conquered us.
They died of Southern fever
And Southern steel and shot.
I wish they were three millions
Instead of what we got."
Guess my roommate knew of what he spoke.
-Fini
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