Ms. Scarlett and the Duke Snider: Those Damn Yankees
I, Scarlett Butler, was named after my great grandmother who preserved the now rich plantation, where I grew up. Our home, Tara, is just outside of Atlanta. It is fashionable today that the first connection you think of with my great grandmother is slavery. In fact, though she and her peers profited from slavery, she and they knew it was wrong. If you doubt it, read that slave holder, Jefferson's, first draft of the Declaration of Independence where he blames slavery on King George. Does that sound like he thought slavery was a good thing.
By my name, you can see that my great grandfather decided that he gave a damn after all. Ironically, the dam he built for irrigation led to the resurrection of Tara to a greater success than the antebellum version. Of course future generations of Butlers improved upon great grandfather's work. What Rhett Butler gave is now a hydro electric dam. This new success for Tara has led to wealth for all of Scarlett O'Hara's descendants. We all have a role in running Tara, but we are left with a considerable amount of free time. We have filled it with diverse hobbies. Some collected stamp's like Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Some took to hunting like Teddy Roosevelt. Mine is baseball. I became a rabid fan in the 1947 World Series. I first had hope of a Yankee loss when Joe DiMaggio kicked the dirt in frustration, as Al Gionfriddo caught his 450 foot out. The frustration was mine when DiMaggio's team won the seventh game.
My team is the Cincinnati Reds. Cincinnati is the closest southern city to Atlanta that has a National league team. If you don't believe Cincinnati is a southern city, you don't know Cincinnati. But more than I love the Reds, I hate the damn Yankees. My great grandmother and grandfather would be so proud.