I played a show in Richmond last weekend to celebrate the 4th anniversary of the community house I founded there. On the drive north to West Virginia, I barely glimpsed the colors of the Southern Cross in the grass along the side of the road. Curious, I turned the car around and walked over to the cloth. It was even more unique than a plain ole battle flag.
The relationship of modern people to symbols like this is complicated, and my personal experience is confusing, both of which I wrote about in my article for Quail Bell:
That article was written before the row over the South Carolina statehouse had resulted in the removal of the flag there, but I think it's still relevant to current discussions surrounding the hated symbol.