Wednesday afternoon, a friend and I took a walk through Pleasant Gardens Cemetery, the African American burial ground on Missionary Ridge.
At the time, we had no idea of the political violence in Washington.
We walked and talked. Trees, fallen and decaying, covered headstones. A yellow dog came up, sniffed and ran away. The sunken graves of Black Chattanoogans – many buried during segregation – were all around us.
My friend – Black, Christian, so wise – paused.
“Do you think we are nearing the end of America?” he asked. “Are we at the edge? The precipice?”