Traitors to the Union

Husband and I tooled down to visit friends in Baltimore yesterday. We
went to the aquarium, where our friend works, and I interacted with
some animals. (Pictures tomorrow.) Dinner was crabs with Old Bay
Seasoning - yummy, messy, and guilty after a day at the aquarium.

This morning, as we walked on Pratt St to the garage where we parked
Fred the Red, I stopped and read a plaque/informative sign about
Baltimore's Riot Trail. It seems that a mob of Confederate
sympathizers gathered around a Union train and shot a soldier. Hence
the first Union casualty was in the fucking Union.

To commemorate this proud occasion, a poem was written about the
"brave" secessionists. It became Maryland's state song in 1939. Of
course. Because only in this fucked up country do we find it
acceptable for traitors and terrorists to celebrate their evil deeds -
as long as they are white southerners. (While the North is far from
perfect in terms of racism, I don't, for example, see New Yorkers
fondly commemorating the Civil War draft riots.)

Grrr... Despite the misguided vileness of "southern heritage pride," I
found Baltimore to be charming. We explored the harbor area, Federal
Hill, and Canton. As we left, we drove throught Patterson Park. (I
know that much of Baltimore is disintegrating and dangerous, but I
think it would be an interesting place to live and do community
development.) I want to come back and see the dentistry museum, the
visionary art museum of self-taught artists, the African-American
museum of MD, and the Baltimore Jewish museum.

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