Foggy Day at Monticello

I had the privilege to venture an hour and change south to Charlottesville, in particular, Monticello, aka Thomas Jefferson's ol' crib. Mostly thanks to a Culture Class assignment. We reached the fog-drenched colonial mansion not really knowing what to expect. Well, aside from armies of gray hair that is.


Surprisingly, we were far from disappointed with the tour of Jefferson's lil' mountain. The tour, great. The gardens, great. The things I learned, great.


One thing I was disappointed with was the curator, along with the Thomas Jefferson Foundation still struggling with the fact that Thomas Jefferson could have possibly fathered the children of his slave, Sally Hemmings.


Now don't get me wrong, I could care less whether he did or not. But the fact that a credible historical society thinks that it might tarnish his name even after DNA tests proved it bothered me. But it did remind me of something I heard once. Draw your own conclusions.

"It's historical.
People like they historical shit in a certain way.
They like it to unfold the way they folded it up.
Neatly. Like a book.
Not raggedy.
And bloody.
And screamin'."
- Suzan-Lori Parks