I had mixed feelings last night when it came time to watch
the last segment of Hatfields & McCoys mini-series on the History Channel, wondering
how it would affect my dreams and interrupt my sleep. Though these two families did make their
appearance in my nighttime adventures, it wasn’t as intrusive as the night
before.
As stated in my previous blog post, I was a bit wary this
story would end without a resolve, forcing my brain and consciousness to
provide one, or struggle from its absence. The History Channel didn’t let me
down, and provided a partly sad, and partly hopeful, resolution.
Through careful determination, I reserved my judgment on either
family, knowing this wasn’t a work of fiction, but based on historical facts
and real families, until the conclusion of the matter. I wanted to view this tragic story through
unbiased eyes, being grateful I had not already had previous knowledge of the
legend. The only thing I knew before
watching this series was that in the television show, “The Beverly Hillbillies”,
their famous family feud was based on the Hatfields and McCoys, and that it was
the basis for the game show “Family Feud”.
Actually, I had forgotten that last piece of information until my son
reminded me yesterday.
My judgment today: I
think this tale would make a great illustration for several moral principles,
such as: sowing vs. reaping, generational curses, righteous indignation, religious
hypocrisy, and the cause and effect of faith, grace, love and mercy, and the
lack thereof. But the greatest lesson: the effect of hate and who really pays
the price.
There are always many ‘reasons’ for hate, and in this particular
case, it seems to have started at the end of the civil war with a blue coat amongst
a gray coat society and mindset, but there are no ‘excuses’. Hate is a personal choice. In this particular environment, hate was
prevalent, but it didn’t start with the Hatfields or the McCoys, but long
before them both in a feuding country. This
particular feud was the fruit harvested after much sowing. I could literally see
the ‘devil in the details’ through the side-line instigators on both sides,
shooting their bullets from the shadows, stirring the anger, and fueling the
fires of hate.
Who ultimately paid the price? The children. Neither William Anderson “Devil Anse”
Hatfield, nor Randolph “Randall” McCoy recognized the fruit of their hate until
it became evident in the graves of their dead children. While they sought
mercy, they refused to grant it. I
watched a skeptic turned into a believer, and a believer turned into a skeptic.
I observed hate destroy love, and love overcome hate. I witnessed grief destroy hope, and hope rise
out of grief. This is why this story captivates
hearts and imaginations.
In the end, am I team Hatfield or team McCoy? I’ve always been partial to a Damascus Road
experience - a murderer who seeks and finds redemption. It’s the foundational concept in my novel
series, “The Blood of Cain”. So, I have
to say, based on the evidence and story resolution presented, I’m team
Hatfield.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
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