Last night rocking on the veranda listening to the fireworks, I thought what it must have sounded like 150 years earlier.
To the east there were blast after blast after blast of explosions. I could not see the fireworks but could hear the sound as it echoed through the calm neighborhood. Then to the north there was another series of loud explosions. To the west another explosion and then another filled the air. In the breezy night I could smell the smoke.
There were no motions of other neighbors around the hood as this war was going on around us.
Everything was far away and had no impact on my street or disturbs our self-being of safety through all these disturbing sounds. Nothing here was any different.
Then there was a pop. After that was another and another and a whistling sound and another pop that could be rifle fire or pistol shots. Then an explosion that sounded one block away drew this war closer.
Meanwhile the afar explosions continued to grow in intensity.
Back in the civil war, many did not live on the battleground. It was a distant sound of explosions without even hearing the moans and cries of those who were fighting and dying. Their neighborhoods were not destroyed and the next day life could go on as it did before.
The newspaper would not report in a vague description on what was heard until a week later. Word of mouth was the news media. Unless soldiers marched down the street with wounded there were no videos or text messages describing what was heard the night before.
Unless one would wander down to where the sound had come from to look at the destruction and carnage, one could only imagine what all that sound was about and why it had stopped. Word of mouth would translate what they had seen and groups of worshippers would consume the interpretations of the politic and religious opinions.
Personally I hope I never have to experience what this town went through so many years ago and know others who are today must try and survive and get away and become immigrants in another’s land.