Meditations on a Couple of Old Postcards

I saw a pile of household goods on the side of the road a couple of days ago, as I was picking up a friend to take him to the store. It was a blighting image that I gazed on with disdain. I asked him what was that, and he said his neighbor was cleaning the house, and it was there for the taking. I am an artist and therefore not proud, a prospector at heart. I got out and my eyes immediately fell on two postcards.  One was of a beautiful oil portrait of Gen. Lee.  The other a picture of the statue of Marse Robert in the Virginia State Capital.  They were dated 1962, proud symbols of Old Dominion heritage and honor for a hundred years.  I snatched them up from the pile like a sacred banner that had been allowed to touch the ground.  One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

It is sad to see that today the Southern white middle class will throw out what was sacred only a couple of years ago for fear of harboring signs of political incorrectness or because they have become satiated by the Kool-Aid of the Maoist Cultural Revolution which has engulfed our land worse than any plague ever could.  The current generation of humanity in America has become a genetic hybrid fusing the jellyfish with the sheep – spineless followers of little character and no direction, floating about, forgetting the past and unable to see into the darkness sucking them into the future.

How we have cascaded over the falls from the days when our leaders had real backbones and thought for themselves and were willing to stand up for what they believed in.  We as a society have fallen a long way.  Our nation is ready for the plucking.  But, more likely we will quickly fall in on ourselves from internal entropy and division and be sucked into the void of eons of man’s historical ambitions, aspirations, failures, and demise.  Either way, the status quo can not last much longer.  Our nation has already passed through the effervescent identity of our pre-pubescent launch onto the world stage.  We have flexed our muscles and shown our adolescent prowess, and then churned to a stop contemplating in our middle age, reposed and questioning our idealism and looking at our accomplishments with disparagement.  But now we have gone too far and we turn in on ourselves listening to false tales and false idols.  We are standing at the fulcrum of a teeter-totter wondering what it’s all about, vulnerable in our flabbiness and our self-depreciation and insecurity. America is suffering a mid-life crisis.

The Vandals are at the gates and whisperers of appeasement and conciliation are hiding their symbols and ready to take up the religion of those storming the walls.  The lost true believers await the inevitable blindfolds they will soon be offered so that the light of liberty in their eyes will not be seen by the new masters of their fate and cause them to hesitate.

About Cliff Page

Cliff Page is a native of Charleston, South Carolina, with roots that run deep, and precede the Revolution, but spread from the red clay of the mountains to the sandy loam and swamps of the low country. As an artist, he was Sculptor in Residence at the Saint-Gaudens National Historic Site in Cornish, NH in 2015, during its 50th Anniversary and the 150th Anniversary of the assassination and death of Abraham Lincoln. He studied at the National Institute for the Fine Arts in Mexico and was a Fulbright Fellow to Italy and was nominated as a Fulbright Senior Research Scholar and Indo-American Scholar in the past. He holds degrees from Old Dominion and East Carolina Universities. Four years ago he was a candidate for Mayor of Portsmouth, Virginia, where he lives and maintains his studio and is running again for this high office. For the last five years, he has stopped his own work as a sculptor and directed his efforts to preserve and protect Southern monuments and memorials honoring our Confederate Veterans and the brave heroes of Dixie. More from Cliff Page

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