Last summer I was invited to attend the reunion of the descendants of slaves of Lang Syne Plantation – the plantation my family owned.  I was invited to attend by the great gr grandson of Tom, who worked for my ancestor, Langdon. At dinner, he introduced me and asked me to stand.  I didn’t know what to expect.  But the 200 or so people stood and  *applauded*  my being there, knowing that my family had enslaved theirs.  I was honored to meet the 97 year old grandneice of Tom.  She shook my hand, and continued to hold it in both of hers as we talked.  Otherwise, I might have fallen over when she said, “I am so honored to meet you”.   Many came up to me afterwards and introduced themselves and embraced me, literally and figuratively.   The next morning we attended church together.  Again, I was asked to stand and speak.  I wasn’t prepared at all to say anything, but I stood in front of the church and told the story of how my ancestor was wounded on the battlefield, and how his
 “servant”,  Tom, carried him three miles on his back, getting him to safety.  Langdon was able to return home and lived for a few months before dying of his wounds.   My great grandmother, Langdon, was born 10 days after his death. I wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Tom.  My entire branch of the family wouldn’t exist, if it weren’t for this enslaved man having the character to save his “master’s” life.   But its more than that – my family lived a blessed life because of the people that slaved for them and made their good life possible.  At that point, the congregation got to its feet, and applauded, shouted Amen, etc.   I almost made an apology for my ancestors, but something inside told me not to.  
   
  When we left the church, people came up to me to shake my hand or embrace me.  I could not have been greeted more warmly if I had been the long lost prodigal daughter.   One man did walk up to me and in a mildly hostile way, said that he noticed that I stopped short of *apologizing* for my ancestors. I explained that I didn’t feel I could. Who could “authorize” me to speak for people who probably went to their graves not being sorry?  He nodded.  
   
  I went home feeling something had come full circle, but I just couldn’t understand how the descendants of slaves could be “honored” to meet me. Everyone in my family was asking why they were pleased, but I had no answers until about two weeks later.  I remembered the 97 year old granddaughter of Tom standing up in Church, speaking in a voice stronger than mine, saying that it was Martin Luther King’s dream come true  - that the sons and daughters  of slaves would sit down with the sons and daughters of slave owners at the table of brotherhood.  [its not “the end” she said, but a good beginning.]  Also, I had acknowledged in a very small way what no one else in my family had.   
   
  I remember being very young and hearing my grandmother talk about how our family treated slaves well. Even at the age of five, I could still think, “yes, but they were still *slaves*.”   I needed to find out from the descendants of Land Syne their side of the story. Yes, they were treated well, “just like family”. Except when a member of my family died, and the estate was “stressed”.  Tom’s mother had a six year old brother who was ‘sold South”, never to be heard from again.  Tom was surely aware of this when he saved Langdon’s life. I asked one woman how she could be pleased to meet me, and she said, “Well, your family did teach us our religion”.  I said, "Yes, but they sat in church each Sunday thinking they were good Christians who could “own” people”.   She told me that my ancestors just didn’t know any better. [forgive them for they know not what they do?]  Someone else told me that we are all blind to our own faults. The descendants of the slaves of Lang Syne
 epitomize true Christianity.  
   
  I don’t feel responsible for what my ancestors did before I was born. I don’t know how I feel about reparations. I do know we need to acknowledge the pain and suffering of a people who are in large measure responsible for the rest of us having good lives.  We need to acknowledge that they helped build and defend this country.  After that, maybe we can put the ugliest chapter of our history behind us, and "get over it'.   How can we honor our own ancestors and not honor the people who made our ancestors’ lives good, at the expense of their own?   Without that acknowledgement, aren’t we still in the same level of blindness as the slave owners?   In fact, at our next reunion, in 2008, I plan to go and apologize - not because I feel the need to apologize for my ancestors, but because some of the people imjured beyond imagination by my family need to hear it. 
   
  Why isn't there a memorial in our capitol to the Native American and African American slaves?  I think that is a wonderful idea. 
  Langdon Hagen-Long
   
   

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