Cannon fire and rifle shots
While sitting in the kitchen this morning, I heard several large explosions. After ascertaining that one of those mythical WMD’s didn’t make an appearance in Pittsburgh, I set out to investigate the source.
I didn’t have to go far. In the park at the end of our street were several dozen individuals in full Civil War dress, duking it out, 1860’s-style. While I didn’t understand the intricacies of simulated warfare, it was very fun to watch.
It was a strange juxtaposition of old and new. As cars drove by, oblivious of the drama, the disciplined North was giving the skittish South (who, comically, would shoot into the air, miss, retreat, and repeat the process) a thorough thrashing. Cannons, rifles, and bayonets were all involved. A black man sat down next to me to watch the scene and remarked, “Maybe I should go run through there like a runaway slave.” I laughed pretty hard at that one. So did he.
I wandered around the tents that were set up on the perimeter of the battlefield (which, in peacetime, serves as the Great Poop Collector for every single dog in the neighborhood) and took in the sights. There were physicians, outfitters, and even an embalmer with a mourner-for-hire.
Walking back from the park on to our street was a disorienting experience. Cars and construction equipment lined the street, yet the buildings are, for the most part, the exact same buildings that were standing when troops actually gathered in the park (again, the exact same park minus the urban renewal “improvements”) and set off to make war under the leadership of an abolitionist minister. The ladies in their period dress and the men in their uniforms would not look out of place in the least.
