Family Feud – Team Hatfield or Team McCoy?

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

My Hatfields & McCoys Nightmare

Thank you, Hatfields and McCoys, for interrupting my fantastical dreams and replacing them with a nightmare.

I’ve heard that dreams are a way for our subconscious to work out problems we couldn’t deal with while awake. I’m beginning to think that is true.  Often times, when there are things that stress me out in the light, I struggle with in the night.  Thanks to Fox, and their insatiable need to cancel every good show that airs on their network, I’ve spent a night or two trying to reconcile the answers to the cliffhangers that will never be resolved.  I wish networks, who decide to cancel a show, would at least provide an ending and not leave us frustrated without a resolution.  I’m now very reluctant to follow another Fox show for this very reason.  I fear I’ll be trying to ‘find’ the ending to Finder in my nightmares for months to come. Okay, time to get off that rant and back to my point.  This is part of ‘the’ point, but I’ll move on.

Monday, I began watching the new mini-series, Hatfields & McCoys on the History Channel, and I’m so frustrated at the situation, based on a real story, that could have been avoided if not for the pride of mankind. It would have taken two-word phrases by each man (I’m Sorry and Forgive Me) to have prevented a mini-civil war between West Virginia and Kentucky.  Granted, it seems the escalation of the tension between these two families were inflamed by instigators on both sides, not primarily by the two patriarchs, but their examples and a lack of humility and leadership, fueled the flames.  There was a lot of talk about God, but no evidence of His character in either; all judgment and wrath, but no mercy or forgiveness.

 

Needless to say, my dreams were plagued with trying to work out a resolution between the two families, which included desperate appeals from a distant relative (distant –as in a generational great-great-great granddaughter, traveling through time to bring a passionate plea for peace between her two grandfathers, ending with one killing the other).  

Perhaps there’s some part of me, recently discovering on Ancestry.com a lineal connection to the Civil War, and my family coming from the same area, which reacts to this story on a personal level.  Who knows?  I have learned one thing: I’m so thankful to have been born in this generation.  I don’t think I would have done well in that particular time period of our history.  I can’t imagine the nightmares that would constantly plague me in search of solutions. I hope there’s enough resolution in the last part of this mini-series tonight for me to have a restful sleep, but I’m not holding my breath.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray