BY CAROLE NICHOLS
You seemed like such a big man,
Seen from the eyes of a child.
You spoke of the rights of free men;
I saw you drive the crowds wild.
My dad said you were a fighting judge;
And that you were fighting for me.
Fighting for some high ideals,
And to help our state stay free.
I didn't understand it all then,
But I could tell you spoke from the heart.
And I was more than a little awed
That you were so fierce and smart.
Our state made you our leader,
And I grew up knowing your name.
I was raised in a place of history,
You brought Alabama to national fame.
You stood up against a nation, George,
Until that nation made you fall.
But you are standing on your feet again,
You have heard the bugle's final call.
I would like to learn a little more about this.
ReplyDeleteWas his last name Wallace, too?
ReplyDeleteReminds me of pictures I've seen of men hanging by their necks and hung on crosses, too.
ReplyDeleteYes, George Wallace, great great grandson of William Wallace. When I was in college, a group of us would walk to the capital everyday, and if he was in, he'd always have his driver stop and talk to us when he'd leave for the day. His son, Jr., was a dreamboat, and I played a small part in the Wallace political machine.
ReplyDeleteI never saw him around the crosses that burned, but my dad would drag us out of bed and take us to watch them. It was one of the scariest moments I've ever known. Such was the south in those days.
Surely must of been a frightful sight to behold.
ReplyDeleteI only have pictures from WWII, and a few precious metals...just pieces that these days, no doubt are made of plastic.
Nice craftsmanship though, and maybe means a job on an assembly line.
Better than no job, right.
Something is always better than nothing.
Just call me curious, reminds me of George...he'll always just be a simple monkey to me.