The Civil war ended seven score and ten years ago. At least on paper. There are of course residual prejudices leaking into today. But Lee surrendered, and our ragged country began the dreary task of rebuilding. 

My twins are memorizing the Gettysburg address. I was surprised to learn that it is only ten sentences. Clearly Lincoln did not predict that school children would be reciting his words into the next millennium. Sometimes our best efforts are those we expect to fade quickly. 

I own a North Carolina Lily quilt that dates from before the war. I cherish it, and find it easy to forgive the signs of wear. I am hesitant to hide the evidence, with soap or brand new thread. A century and a half is a long time to hold it together and my respect is not only for the craftwomanship, which is impressive, but the endurance. Since fabric cannot speak, the circumstances of its history are left to my imagination and scenes from Gone With the Wind. 

Marriages carry their own memoirs, which also include strife. The Civil War was anything but civil, as families dealt fatal blows upon one another. Marriages too endure death, of what we expected or demanded. 

I attended the memorial service of a woman who gave the last full measure of her devotion to her husband. His mind is clouded with dementia and no one expected her to slip out before him.