Richmond tavern

Feverish conversation drawn by a pint with Mike in a dark tavern. Maybe the same one Edgar Allen Poe, the local poet used to frequent in his time here. It is long since changed in this new-old city of the South, grudgingly advancing. No longer do I wheeze and crinkle my eyes and nose in the acrid fumes, even king tobacco has been banned on its home turf, like Jim Crow. The ghost is still here though....

Olde Richmond is a city slow to move beyond its history, a history of romantic nostalgia. Hundreds of years old, the colonies, King James, Queen Elizabeth the "Virgin"ia queen. Then, confederacy of the South, battleground of the civil war. Some people here hold on to that strange southern nostalgia. Living in history, or unwilling to move on?

I ask these questions and try to make sense of this pairing of history and heritage.