Rebel Yell in the frozen North

"The prestige of government has undoubtedly been lowered considerably by the prohibition law. For nothing is more destructive of respect for the government and the law of the land than passing laws which cannot be enforced. It is an open secret that the dangerous increase of crime in the United States is closely connected with this." Albert Einstein

I have a treasure trove of old letters to read - the earliest from post-civil war Tennessee in 1870. The authors seem alive and present with me; their thoughts, feelings and concerns relevant and fresh.

James M Vaughan (my great great grandfather - in this photo) writes a cryptic letter to his son, Charley, admonishing him for leaving home in some sort of trouble or debt.

"Commerce Texas, April 10 1888

"Well what I had to tell you & Jessie I cannot write so just let it go till I see you. I have had letters from those in who you are interested They are All Write. ...My Son you have not lived as long as I have. I have never lived any whare whare I am ashamed to go back. I have never done any thing to be ashamed off. I am engaged in the traffick of whiskey but if that is disonerble thare is thousands of the best men in the cuntry gilty of the Same offence. With these facts before me I feale satisfed that while I am not able to work at Hard labor that I have got to make a living some way. Then If I can make it the way I am don't condem me. ...I will not weary your patience any longer but ask you to think before you do anything. That other question that I mentioned that was six millions of miles deep - remember. Then I am through -
I am affectionately you father, J. M. Vaughan."

I am intrigued, and a little envious. James M. Vaughan was born in Tennessee in 1827, from what I can determine, didn't fight in the Civil War, and his sons were born after the war. Nevertheless, they must have been greatly affected by the devestation around them. They moved around the south - Georgia, Alabama, finally Texas before they settled. Somehow they kept that independent spirit that would not be crushed by circumstances. James was putting food on the table by putting whiskey in bottles, and there must have been a little nose-thumbing at the local authorities to make that happen.

Some of Jame's rebel spirit still stirs in me, and I relish it, stuck in the land of good manners and Minnesota nice. He was on to something. And I don't just mean the whiskey. I am humbled by the transparent love and passion these people show in their correspondence. In spite of their independence, they are a real community, bonded by fierce loyalty and common bloodlines. They do not hide from each other even their weakness and need. Their hearts on their sleeves, they freely express joy and sorrow, loss and longing, anger and hope. They are, above all, connected.

If anyone had ever been able to record the rebel yell, I would love to salute this family with that famous but now only imagined sound that makes the hair stand on end and the heart race.