We visited Gettysburg when I was three, 1956...parents and I...
Parents had no interest in the unCivil War, had said nothing about it then or much ever after...but, we stopped by regardless.
According to them, and from what I remember also, all I did was sit on the ground and cry.
I had been in a good mood before that, and I was not a crier anyway, so this was very unusual for me to do.
But, that was it, I just sat on the ground and started crying, and would not stop.
After a little while, parents and I walk to the gift shop...I stopped crying, I wanted my dad to buy me a Confederate Flag, which he did...and, we left.
All I remember about it, is something very profound and sad, something inconsolable, was overwhelming me.
And, instinct or memory somehow, led me to just stand there staring at the little Confederate Flags on Sticks for sale, and, to then ask my dad to get one for me.
You bet those places are 'Haunted', and well they should be.
4/5ths of our Nation's Heart was lost there, and, never did grow back.
Oye...