Working with the public for 36 years, I’ve met lots of folks from different walks of life. Living in the South in an area steeped with Civil War history, some of those I’ve crossed paths with boast of great Civil War heritage.
One such sweet Southern lady openly spoke of her love of history. Her Southern drawl was as thick and slow as honey dripping from a cold spoon, and as proper as neatly creased and folded white starched napkins. She was a short stocky lady with a walk that indicated she was someone of social standing in the local societies with which she associated. When I was considering pursuing DAR membership, I asked her about the requirements, and she referred me to someone who could assist me.
Shortly after, she came to my desk one day and told me all about her UDC chapter (that is United Daughters of the Confederacy). An invitation was extended to attend as her guest to their meeting with the intent of trying to get me to join to the UDC.
I looked at the kind Southern lady briefly and mustered up the courage to say, “Ma’am, I don’t think you want me at your meeting. My Civil War ancestors were Union soldiers.”
As she walked away, she didn’t look quite so starched and proper.
Some time later, I applied for membership in the DUV (Daughters of Union Veterans).
