The Girl and I decided to go downtown this afternoon and explore. After a visit to the library, we wound up at Springwood Cemetery in downtown Greenville. It was there; we were there — why not?
I couldn’t remember if the Girl had ever been in a cemetery before. I recalled a visit to a cemetery in Rock Hill, but she stayed in the car.
“But I’ve been in a cemetery in Poland,” she assured me.
We quickly learned this cemetery was different, really a cemetery worth visiting. It wasn’t one of those modern graveyards with flat grave markers to make mowing easier. This cemetery had worn stones and wrought iron fences.
And a number of plots for unknown Confederate soldiers.
The past is truly never too far away when you’re in the South. Those of us from the South face a lot of stereotypes as a result, not all of them completely unearned. I’ve never had much of an accent at all, let alone a southern accent, but I still felt somewhat out of place during my two years in Boston. As we walked around, words from that modern, proud redneck band, Drive-by Truckers, came to mind:
You think I’m dumb, maybe not too bright
You wonder how I sleep at night
Proud of the glory, stare down the shame
Duality of the southern thing
I can’t say I’ve ever been proud of the glory, but I’ve done my share of staring down the shame.
Perhaps that’s the modern southern thing?
Whatever the case, I didn’t have long to settle on those thoughts: we were soon walking down Main Street (literally), weaving in and out of fellow Greenville-ites also out to enjoy the warm Saturday, snapping pictures here and there. The Girl has begun requesting pictures — and posing — so I willingly complied.
I wanted to walk all the way down to Falls Park, but with K and the Boy back home, we decided to head back.
