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Improbably, the story from this issue that touches me most directly comes from the Love Valley Rock Festival of 1972. Here and now, I will finally admit in public that your straitlaced editor was in personal attendance for his very own brush with hippiedom. Hard as it is to believe, my own memories thus stretch from family stories of Reconstruction to the Summer of Love and beyond. Love Valley Rock Festival, courtesy of Ed Buzzell Photography. In Faulkner’s Requiem for a Nun , the character Gavin Stevens famously declares that “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” Stevens’s judgment on the power of history seemed profound when I first read it, back in college. It’s still true today, but now it’s become a platitude, a staple of presidential speeches and Woody Allen movies that raises more questions than it answers. “What past?” we have to ask. Better yet, “ Whose past?” And what makes the southern past more living or more present than everyone else’s? Is life in the South like a real- life version of Bill Murray’s popular comedy, Groundhog D , in whi ay ch Jamestown, Pickett’s charge, and Freedom Summer keep happening over and
Southern Cultures – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jul 20, 2017
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