When the world finally starts to make sense and I am nominated for the Supreme Court, this is the picture that will be introduced at my confirmation hearing that will inevitably cause me to be dropped from consideration:

Yes, today I went to Nathan Bedford Forrest State Park in Tennessee.

You may be aware that he was a Confederate General during the Civil War. Or, maybe you know him as the very first Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. But, let’s face it, the only reason you have heard of him is he is who Forrest Gump was named after and, you even forgot about that part until just now.

Some argue that point. They insist that the whole “him being the first Grand Wizard thing” might not be completely true since there is no hard evidence to support the claim. While others counter that he was sworn into the office on April 9th, 1867 in room 10 of The Maxwell House Hotel in Nashville, TN.

Whichever side you choose to believe, you have to admit that this raises one obvious question:

How does every commercial for Folger’s not end with the line, “Good to the last drop, huh? Well, at least we didn’t invent the KKK!”?

Hell, even the memorial to N.B. Forrest looks like a statue of a behooded Klansman. (pic related)

And, this is why I went. To hear the other side of the story. Sure, it is easy to be outraged that there is a park named in honor of a slave trader and enemy combatant of the U.S.A. I mean, please. Right?

But, the hard truth is, this place exists. Since all I know is what they tell me, and they choose what to tell me, maybe it is time I sought out the rest of the story.

I reported to the ranger station and read some of the posted literature on why snakes get an unfair rap on their rep. (The short answer is, that besides eating disease-carrying rodents, they also consume a huge amount of insects. But, with my attention span being what it is, no answer stays short, hence…Tommy Rambles On…and I got to arguing internally about the insect thing. I mean, sure, you find one crawling across your mashed potatoes & fish, you’re gonna be grossed out. Unless it turns out to be a ladybug, which we then think it is ADORABLE! that the insect crawled across our meal. Which, in western Tennessee,  is a good thing because, seriously, ladybugs are everywhere…pic related)

They were all up in my Kool-Aid

If you ask me, the snakes are laying down on the job. Heh heh) when I was greeted by Ranger J.C. Johnsonius.  I am not kidding. That is his name. And, he was about the nicest snot-nosed, punk kid ever to carry a sidearm.  I put him at 13 years old.

For some reason, in my mind’s eye, I am 33 years old. Just like Batman, I stay the same age over the years. And, Ranger Johnsonius was a good 20 years younger than me (in truth, 25 years younger).

He is patient, casual, friendly and professional. I am none of those things and got right to the point:

Me: Interesting person to have a state park named after.

JC: In truth, some folks find him kind of controversial.

Me: Yeah, about that…how is he regarded in these parts? Is he a hero?

JC (after a brief pause): To some, I suppose he is.

He said this in the same tone one might say, “Fuck you, yankee.”

But this ranger is far too polite to utter that to a stranger.

This only served to confuse me further. I mean, Ranger Johnsonius is a genuine nice guy. You can feel it coming off of him.

I explained that up north we are taught from about age 5 on that the south is backwards and evil…yadda yadda yadda…we don’t really get the whole heritage thing.

Patiently, he invited me to drive up the hill to the museum and view some of the videos that explain in detail what a military genius Forrest was. There I could learn more about some of the important battles that he fought in.

I drove off. I stop by the lake to take in the view (pic related)…

It’s in there somewhere beyond the trees

…and read the stone marker explaining the history of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), of which, I believe my grandfather Elzie was a member, and the work they did on so many of the parks in America during The Great Depression, including the building of this log cabin…

Just then, Ranger Johnsonius pulled into the lot and approached The EM-50 Phantom Rambler. He had chased me down because it was getting late and I probably wouldn’t have the time to take in all the info the museum had to offer. He wanted to get an email addy from me so he could send me some literature if I was truly interested in reading more. I gave him one of my cards. (pic related)

I didn’t look to see which one I gave him – they’re all different.

And, the truth is, I am interested. But, it doesn’t matter.

The most dangerous force we face as a society is homogenization. I don’t want to tell anyone who their heroes should be because none will stand up to scrutiny (just like I won’t at my SCOTUS hearing).

I don’t want to force everyone to be the same. To think the same, act the same. Have the same hobbies and interests. To learn only one side of any story. I don’t know what happened, I only know what I am told, and, hell, I only remember some of that.

If I’m going to judge someone, I think the right idea would be to use the content of their character and not so much the folks they admire or the thing they claim is their heritage.

Nathan Bedford Forrest is an important historical figure, I suppose. He seems to spark something in some people, and well, spark something else altogether in others.

The park is beautiful and well-maintained. I found the staff to be courteous and professional.

I don’t know what’s best for everyone, not even myself (that’s Trixie’s job) so, maybe it was a good thing I posed for that photo that will serve to be my undoing.