People seem to be having a collective conniption about monuments, but I can think of one monument that I realized five years ago should be built. I’m stubborn about it — you might even say devoted to a lost cause.
Over Memorial Day 2015, my wife and I went on a tastings tour of Virginia wine country. (The following summer, we went to Napa. I could get used to that life.) By late Saturday morning, we’d had maybe twelve carefully considered sips of various vintages and were clearly ready for lunch — so we asked an heir to the Horton Vineyard where to get the best barbecue. She pointed us down the road to Gordonsville, where the railroad crossed Stonewall Jackson Highway.
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