My Hometown...

May I just start this off by saying...this is an angry blog.

I like the town that I live in. I like the fact that I can trace my family line back to the time before the Revolutionary War...and all of my ancestors lived HERE. Not someone near hear in the state. Not two towns away. HERE. No, not the area around the nearest large city. I'm talking about the tiny dot on the map that is succumbing to the wonderful plans being made for it to make huge money for those people who moved here five...ten...twenty years ago...if that long - let's try a year ago...or 3 months...that have no heritage here. Hey, they don't mind tearing down a gorgeous old house that was built in 1870s and still passes safety regulations. Heck, no. Let's tear that down and put up a strip mall.

If you take a walk with me downtown, I can still show you where my father lived when he was a boy. And the mill that my great-grandparents worked in. I can tell you stories that I have heard about various interesting characters who also lived right off of Main Street. But...if you really want the scoop...you should take a Main Street tour with my father. He remembers what the city was like before the Yankees moved in.

They have the house that my great-great-great grandmother was born in at the museum downtown. And the building that housed the restaurant that my great-grandparents owned on Main Street was still standing until about 9 months ago...when it was torn down to make way for a 4-story law office/bar that has yet to be built. The elementary school that I went to...and my father went to...and my grandfather went to, though they tore down that building...is just a little off of Main Street on Church Street. And in the area between Main Street and the elementary school...you'll find a graveyard. That is where my great-grandparents are buried. And my great-great-grandparents. And my great-great-great grandparents. And my father's two uncles that died in infancy...But, you see, I just found out that most of those people are "replaceable."

You see, my town was fortunate enough to have a gentleman move here from Philadelphia. He's really a great guy. He knows more about Lexington than any of us who have lived here for generations. And he knows that it reminds him of Philadelphia. Really. And I know this because I read his "from the editor" message in Lexington Life - the magazine he writes about this town...because he knows so much about us. Boy, am I glad that he got elected to town council!

This month, in his little note to the town of Lexington, he wrote about Mr.Boozer, who passed away recently. Now, just to clear things up, I have nothing against Mr.Boozer...But, he apparently used to have a little saying that went something like this:"If you think you're not replaceable, walk out the door of St.Stephens Church and look at the graveyard. It's full of people who thought they couldn't be replaced." After Mr.Boozer's death, the fine editor of Lexington Life had an epiphany. He realized that only a "select few passionate, creative souls and the contributions they make in our world are truly irreplaceable."

I wonder...as he stood in the graveyard that holds the memory of the town of Lexington...which people did he think could have been replaced? Which were the few that were irreplaceable? It's a question that can have no answer. The people are gone. The only thing that tells us they were there is a space of earth and a hunk of stone...and the impressions that they left on the people that they left behind and the city that they and their ancestors built.

My ancestor landed in Lexington by means of a charter from the king of England...who was only too willing to find German settlers to settle a piece of land called "Saxe Gotha." All the better that they were Germans...Saxe Gotha was part of a ten province area to create a buffer from the Indians for the people of Charleston. He settled and had three sons. For as far back as I can remember, I remember hearing stories about those three brothers. One of them was my direct ancestor. And all three of them fought - loyally - for the King of England in a little uprising we like to call the Revolutionary War. Two of the brothers left to explore Mississippi and Alabama. My ancestor stayed - despite the loss of land and fortune suffered by those who chose the wrong side. Maybe he is the one that we should replace...His grandson worked on a plantation until he could afford to marry his sweetheart and buy a little farm on Twelve Mile Creek in Lexington. This gentleman was also a Confederate soldier. (GASP! Let's replace him - surely.) In the infantry. And when he returned from war, his wife died just a few years later. The last records I have found of him place him in service as a manservant for some of his wife's relatives. What sort of "contribution" to society is that? His son is the young man who lived in Dutch Fork...but, just hold your horses...he married a girl who was from Lexington. And he walked all the way from Dutch Fork to Lexington - in the days before the dam was built - to court her. They had six children together - my great-grandfather being the youngest - before she died suddenly. Rumor has it that he died of a broken heart just a year or two after her. My great-grandfather served two terms in the Navy during World War II. Should we replace him?

I've only told you about one line of my family...but if you want more, just let me know. I have a whole passel of native-born Lexington ancestors.

I took my son to that graveyard in the not too distant past. And as I held him in my arms and showed him the grave sites that commemorate our family, I felt a sense of pride. And a sense of responsibility to teach him about those people to whom we are bound by honor , blood, and heritage. Maybe some people think of a city...and they suddenly see positions of power and dollar signs flashing before their eyes. Maybe they like the idea of developing beautiful farm land...that has belonged to the same family for generations. Maybe they like for public places to be filled with loud, arrogant, rude people who don't respect others' contributions...and who don't know that maybe if something has been a certain way for a long time,then maybe that's because it works and doesn't need to be changed. But let me tell you what this town means to me...this town is a way to connect with wonderful people that I have heard about for all of my life...and sometimes feel that I know...and definitely can't wait to meet some day...who have passed on long before I was even thought of. This town is my heritage. My history. And my home. No, I won't always live here. They will eventually force me out...in the way of progress. But when I die, I want to be buried somewhere near to land that my heart knew as home. Somewhere near where the bodies of my ancestors rest. You see, Mr Editor. There is something that only we Southerners can really understand :Towns are not about progress and money. Towns are about history and heritage - and people. Good. Bad. They are all irreplaceable. Money nor power can buy heritage. Just remember that the next time you try think about replacing people in my hometown.