A Distant Thunder

    It wasn't any loud or unpleasant sound that caused me to stir between the bed sheets early that morning. My first thoughts were of the roll of steady thunder off, into the distance. When the family had gone to bed, the night before, it had been raining, and in a fog of reflection that morning, a thought occurred to me of how muddy it would likely be on that field today... the field today! I listened once more, this time more keenly interested in the sounds echoing about the morning air. There it was, boom... and another, boom, and yet another, boom. I smiled and glanced around at the clock, 6:30am. Suddenly, I became fully aware of what was being announced throughout the area with a steady rapidity; there was a battle being fought. The sound though muffled, was still distinguishable, as some 18 miles away in a field where the Battle of Shiloh reenactment would take place in the afternoon, cannons were being fired.
     My mother lives in Farmington, Mississippi, just a few miles east of Corinth, where there,  in early April of 1862, the Confederate army marched toward Savannah, Tennessee to thwart the approaching Union army. My anticipation and excitement to attend the events surrounding the 150th anniversary of the battle could not be contained that Saturday morning in the upstairs bedroom of my mother's house. The roll of distant cannons had sprung to life words and images about the Civil War from a hundred thousand pages read over a lifetime. The morning sounds, and again later that afternoon the smells and sights of battle would transform the imagined, into a full sensory reality of war.
     It has been 150 years, and yet we still tell stories about the American Civil War, and if the attendance for reenactments is any indicator of today's interest in the subject, we will be telling stories of the men that fought the war for many more years to come. My name is Ron Goode, and I am a historical researcher and writer of stories and family history. My lifelong passion with the War Between the States, peaked in retirement with a move six years ago to Overton County, Tennessee on the highland rim of the Cumberland Plateau. When one reads the names listed in the local phone book, they will find the same family names that settled these hills, mountains, hollows and valleys, and volunteered its men to defend the cause of freedom when ever called upon. It is the perfect place to explore the great drama that unfolded in this country in 1860, and led to a bloody four years of war. It's a place where church, neighborhoods, and family saw loyalties split between its members, and where the killing became quite personal.
    I write stories about the county, the men, and the families as they experienced this war, and I write about them without regard to the support of either side. I also contribute stories to the local newspaper, which are  published in a weekly column in the Overton County News under the same title as this blog. I prefer to write these stories using first-person accounts of the events when source material is available. In this style, I endeavor to limit 21st century historical interpretation.