“For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t even begun yet….” William Faulkner, Intruder In The Dust.
The Sesquicentennial isn’t until next year, but some have already started fretting about it. And not very accurately, either.
Via Instapundit.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 
I am delaying the day when I’ll start to re-read my stock of Faulkner. Always a problem to stop for me.
As for that fretting – oh well, the more politically correct we get, the more flies we are able to find in any ointment.
Heh, with his trademark 3-page sentences, yes, it can be hard to stop.
I’m not sure, but I suspect the sesqui will be turned into a giant, free-the-slaves marathon, even though the actual war was rather ambiguous on the point.