Into the Wild (Man's)

April. Confederate History Month.

Where to start?

I'll start with this. Confederate History is a complex, mangled, interwoven mass of good and evil. I'm looking at it honestly, trying with everything within me to be unbiased in my approach to learning what really happened.

It is all too appropriate that the traditional color of the Confederate forces was gray.

I've been around this block enough to know what so many are thinking about this topic. "Slavery" is bound to pop up any time the word "Confederate" is uttered. And that's a shame, because there was so much more to the Confederacy than slavery.

Let me say this up front. I'm a Southern apologist. Guilty as charged. But I'm not a "slavery was wrong, but" apologist. I'm a "slavery was wrong, period." apologist. It was an indefensible practice that is best left in the past, and that only because it cannot be undone entirely.

It was wrong.

And so, no matter how hard we try, we cannot ditch the elephant in the Confederate parlor. Despite the indisputable evidence that the South was fighting for independence to pursue the form of government established in the infancy of this nation and despite the irrefutable evidence that the North was fighting to centralize all government power in Washington, the South just can't seem to get the albatross from around our neck.

We were absolutely right...and dreadfully wrong.

Which brings me to today's adventure.

Tucked into the masonry of the old town of Big Shanty is this little gem known as Wild Man's Civil War Surplus. For those of us that can't seem to get enough, it's always good to find someone that has extra to spare. And so today, while on a completely unrelated errand I found myself, along with my favorite Southern belle, walking through the front door of "The Best Little Warhouse in Kennesaw". We found ourselves surrounded by piles, stacks and rows of history and even some propaganda. Various sundries ranging from wildly hilarious to embarrassingly offensive filled the store that seemed like the attic of Reconstruction-era Dixie. And then, from the back room, appeared the most celebrated artifact in the establishment, Dent "Wild Man" Myers.

Dent "Wild Man" Myers, Photo by Roadside America

Wild Man has progressed in years since last I saw him. He wears a beard that makes the Duck Dynasty bunch look like some contestants from Project Runway. The loaded pistols on his belt let you know he's ready for any foolishness you may have for him while the "Guns Allowed" sign on the front door invites you to have a fighting chance. While the organization of the store might not be up to snuff by many critics, he seems to know where everything you could ask for could be found. His hands are adorned with rings on every finger but make no mistake, this is not Liberace. Let me just say that his selection in jewelry does not reflect modern notions of diversity and ecumenism.

There is so much in the store and about the man himself that I just cannot agree with. I've heard the word bigot used to describe him. There is some evidence to support such claims. But there is just something about the man that won't let me throw him out entirely. First of all, he is a primary authority on The War. If you need proof of this, go to Kennesaw Mountain National Military Park, configure the most detailed question about a specific aspect of the battle that you can muster and present it to one of the rangers. You get a good attempt at an answer and then he'll say, "You know, if you really want to know more about this, you should go see Wild Man." And the Surplus is the best place to learn about that battle.

Also, he is, appearance aside, a delightful person to meet. He was very polite in my interaction with him today. My transaction was interrupted by a telephone call, a company trying to offer him a credit card. The side of the conversation I was privy to went something like "Well, I'm trying to get to lunch and trying to help a customer...how much money we talkin' about? $100,000? I've got more money than that in my pocket right now." I had to laugh. And then when he returned, apologetically, to me he accepted cash. Cards are worthless in Wild Man's, he figured the total on an old adding machine and presented me with a hand-written receipt from his carbon copy pad.

But it's more than that. To me he represents a microcosm of the South. There's some things that I don't agree with but I see a lot of good there as well. And much of the bad needs to be remembered. We cannot purge every drop of "offensive" history from our society. We have to know where we've come from if we want to move forward.

I also want to judge people on the whole. Not just on the negative aspect I see. The truth is, Wild Man is open about his opinions. His faults and wrongs are laid out on display, much like the Confederacy's. But what about my faults? What about yours? What prejudices do we hide? What fears haunt us? What do we conceal within us that we'd be ashamed for anyone else to know? Are we honest with ourselves about it?

When we look back on The War the North had it share of atrocities - Camp Douglas, "Hellmira", Sherman's March to the Sea, Lincoln's true intentions about slavery, the suspension of the Constitution, all these swept under the rug or even justified because of the behemoth sin of the Confederacy.

That sounds more like the rest of us. "I thank you Lord that I'm not like that Wild Man."

And then I looked at him today. I saw an old man. A man whose remaining years are getting fewer by the day. All that knowledge, the humor, the carbon copy pad and the faults will die with him. Some kid will move in, open a skateboard shop and...

See? There I go again. "God be merciful to me, a sinner."

Confederate History Month. Take the good with the bad.