It is amazing in this day and age how many people still dwell on the Civil War. The large construction jobs usually have a contingent of diehard rebels and diehard yankees no matter what the project geographic location. It gets even worse when you’re in the northeast or southeast areas of our country. Most of the sentiment is displayed as humor or light bickering between employees of northern or southern origins. It is just having fun and not taken serious. There are occasions when tempers flare, but they are rare. The following is one of my favorite gigs received while working in Virginia and South Carolina “You yankees are like hemorroids……you’re all right when you come down and go right back up… but when you come down and stay you’re a pain in the ass.”
While working at Bath County Linda, myself, and several other couples attended the bluegrass festival in Huntersville, West Virginia. Huntersville is a mountain town located in an area of several civil war battles. It’s also in the heart of true bluegrass music country. Banjo’s, fiddles, mandolins, and guitars played the old way. The site is a large open area with a single stage and vendors at one end. Campers set up randomly throughout the site and parking is at the very rear near the entrance. Everybody dances on the ground in front of the stage. The festival goes all weekend. The first thing that catches your eye after sundown is the number of people walking around with gallon milk jugs full of moonshine. It’s proper etiquette to take a pull on the jug of people you know. It’s a great party.
One group of campers had a big confederate flag mounted on a small tree pole about twenty feet high. They had a spotlight on the ground with wiring connected to a car battery. If you were in the area of the stage and looked back towards the camping and parking area the illuminated flag was all you could see. It was pretty impressive. As the night went on myself and Steve Plante were discussing the flag. We decided it would be a good joke if a couple yankees went home with it. We made a couple passes past the camp to check things out as the night passed. Just as our group was heading for the parking lot, Steve and I went after the flag. We belly crawled to the spot light, disconnected the wires, and took a break. No body payed any attention to the light going out. There were several people sleeping in sleeping bags close to the flag. We quietly slipped in, cut the guy ropes, lowered the pole, and removed the flag. All was quiet as we headed towards the car in the parking lot. I felt sorry for the redneck rebels the next morning, but not enough to return their flag.
Wouldn’t it be funny ……if they knew a hemorroid stole their flag.