An Open Letter & Open Report / The Old Man

From: HK Edgerton []
Date: Tue, Jan 10, 2017
Subject: An Open Letter & Open Report / The Old Man
To: siegels1 []

Dear Ms. Lunelle,

On Monday morning, January 9, 2017, as I stood on the side of the road of Highway 9 with the Southern Cross in hand, a car would pull into the driveway just behind me,
and an elderly man would exit and slowly make his way to where I stood.

“Mr. Edgerton, I have read and listened to you on You Tube for a long time now, and have always wanted to stop and talk to you. My mom and dad used to tell my brothers
and sisters, and myself, that history was supposed to be a full account of the past. However, as you teach, there is a huge discord between what is written, and taught in
our schools about the Southern people who stood against the illegal invasion of our homeland, and the relations between them, and their servants that they seldom referred
to as slaves. That history, they said, was a circle of attitudes going around looking to repeat itself, and that one must work hard to understand it, in order to make the future
better for one self and his fellow man.

“However, when I listen to Al Sharpton, who has so much blood on his hands, urging people to civil disobedience against our incoming President, and those he chooses to
help run our country, I see the head hireling just like the boot blacks of Reconstruction; licentious, heart-rending, and not worthy of the title of Reverend. Only looking
to increase his coffers and personal wealth at the expense of an honorable people, both Red, Yellow, Black and White. I believe if we are to move forward, we must
absterge our society of his, and his kind of the evil rhetoric against the men and women embodied to regulate the safety and welfare of our people, just like those who
stood to stop an illegal invasion of the South.

“As a Southern Black man, I applaud your bravery and efforts to shed a light on truth that will set us all free on both sides of the Mason Dixon. May God keep you
safe young man.” He would hug and salute me with the perfection of a trained soldier, and reach into his pocket, and hand me a twenty dollar bill to aid in my expenses.

I found myself with teared eyes as he slowly made his way back to his car and pulled away. I knew that it was time to go, as those tears began to turn to ice.
God bless you!

Your brother,


Honorary Member, Dixie Defenders Sons of Confederate Veterans