An Open Letter & Open Report / Moral Monday & Conversations On The Street
From: HK Edgerton
Date: Wed, Oct 26, 2016
Subject: An Open Letter & Open Report / Moral Monday & Conversations On The Street
Dear Ms. Lunelle,
On October 25, 2016, as I stood with the Southern Cross posted on the highway across from the entrance to Fairview School, just outside the city limits
of Sylva, North Carolina, and just a few miles from Western Carolina College, an elderly man would literally sneak up behind me. Touching me on my shoulder to
get my attention, he pointed to a picture of the NAACP State President, Rev. Barber, that appeared on the front cover of the Asheville Citizen Times Newspaper
that he held in his hand.
“Moral Monday, sir, was an event concocted by Barber, White folk, guilt folks, the Democratic Party and some other unsavory organizations whose aim was to
get Black people to vote for Hillary Clinton and the Democratic Party that mean the African people no good.”
He went on to say, “It is no fluke that you fight so hard for the South and its people. You were chosen by a higher power than you think. The organization
that you call the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People is under the influence of the Anti Christ. It was ushered into the South to attack
the second most sacred symbol of the Southern people, the St. Andrews Cross, with the Cross of Jesus and the teachings in the Christian Bible clearly targeted
“There are many Angels of the Anti Christ who disguise themselves as men of the cloth. They are nothing more than pawns. And, if you are brave enough
to repeat what I tell you today, then there is hope to stop this trend. However, if not, then your work is done, and the end is near.” I heard someone shout out
HK very loudly from behind me. I turned to see who it was. When I turned back to face this quiet spoken man, he was gone.
The hair on the back of my head felt like it was standing up. I believe for the first time ever carrying my flag that I was not afraid, but shaken.
Suddenly a car with about five young Black men pulled up to where I stood, and threatened to remove me and my flag off the road. I told them to listen to
the sound of the car horns blowing, the Rebel Yell, and the name of HK being shouted. And, if they attempted to harm me in any way, I would find myself
praying that no harm would fall upon them. Before they could pull off, a police car pull up, and admonished them over his speaker to move on because the
red light had changed twice. And he asked, “Are you alright, HK?” “Yes, officer” would be my reply. He hit the horn that has a special sound ( wonk, wonk).
I saluted him, and my salute he would return.
I decided that it was time to go, so I made my way back towards Sylva, stopping and posting the Southern Cross at the entrance of Walmart for another
two hours. Not even the sounds of the car horns blowing, the people waving or the visitation of the Commander of the Jackson Rangers Sons of Confederate
Veterans and other members of the Camp who stopped to greet me could shake the eerie feeling caused by that old man.
My thoughts would turn to Douglassville, Georgia, Mississippi and the Great State of Florida, which I analogize as the Alamo of the Southern Cause.
God bless you, and the people of my homeland, the Southland of America. Please tell Father Alister Anderson to pray for us all.
Chairman of the Board of Advisors Emeritus of the Southern Legal Resource Center