826. McConnellian.

Linda Blackford, writing in the Lexington Herald-Leader, uses the word McConnellian, writing

"McConnell's vote to acquit, shortly followed by a fiery speech denouncing Trump is McConnellian hypocrisy, coming right after his next best in saying he couldn't convict Trump after his presidency was over when he delayed the trial until his presidency was over.  That's a lot of contorting."

What a great adjective. Until now, there hasn't been a good word to fully describe the betrayal of Mitch McConnell to Kentucky, the memory of Henry Clay, the U. S. Senate, and the United States. Now we have one.  It occurs to me that "McConnellian" sounds remarkably like "Machiavellian." 

© Jeff Noble, Louisville, Kentucky, February 14, 2021.

749. Reflections

It has been not quite a month since I've written.  The entries are getting further apart than I have ever intended.  Two, maybe three, things are driving this - my general ennui about much of everything and not feeling well at all, something that has been going on since well before the last entry.  And then there is Facebook, an instant gratification vehicle for writers in search of an audience, something all writers are in search of or we wouldn't be writing.

So, let this entry serve as a catch-up of things, and a reflection of those things.  I had prepared but not posted a different entry #749 entitled "Charlotte on a whim."  Its purpose was to explain how I came about attending the 2012 Democratic National Convention in Charlotte the first few days after Labor Day.  That entry, if posted, would have included a discussion about the drive to and from the destination, which took me, briefly, from Louisville to Lexington to Knoxville to Asheville to Charlotte.  The return trip was similar but, in keeping with the well-established rules, not exactly the same path.

While the entire visit was fun, there were highlights.  I got to meet, for the second time, San Antonio Mayor Julian Castro, whom I had met the first time in 2010 not long after his election.  But his role in national politics has risen considerably since that first meeting at the Henry B. Gonzales Convention Center in San Antonio.  Naturally, indulging in Facebook-instant gratification, I posted a picture of the handsome young mayor taken in front of the Capital Lounge, an upscale eatery at 2nd and Tryon streets in downtown Charlotte.  Hanging out with my congressman, John Yarmuth, I got to meet a few members of the House and one member of the Senate, Al Franken of Minnesota, and, again, there is a Facebook pic.  It was all a happy event.

My return home and subsequent weeks were fairly uneventful leading up to what would be yet another birthday on September 23rd, my 52nd.  As many of my seven faithful readers know, I do like to celebrate birthdays, or birthweeks, or even birthmonths if I can get away with it.  That had been my plan.

*****

Earlier today I drove out to Evergreen Cemetery, a well-established tract of land just south of the Watterson Expressway along the eastside of Preston Highway, first established about 100 years ago.  My purpose was to find the grave of a dear friend, Curtis Lee Heckel, who was buried Monday.  I had attended his visitation on Sunday but could not make the funeral the next day.  Curtis, who was 24, died in an automobile accident very early Wednesday morning, September 19th.  The accident occurred on IN60 near Carrwood Road just outside the town of Borden, Indiana in northern Clark County.  One other person was killed and two others were injured.

All the happiness of the previous month evaporated in an instant with his death.  I had seen him about seven hours prior to his death at the downtown McDonald's at 2nd and Broadway.  He was with the other three persons who were still with him the next morning.  While he wasn't driving, it was his car which crossed the center line headed eastbound (back toward Louisville) and was struck by two different oncoming vehicles.  I visited the site Friday afternoon looking, darkly, for mementos, one of which had a connection between the two of us which I located in the weeds along the roadside.

I had not visited a crash site in over 21 years.  The last one was located at the intersection of Standiford Lane and Preston Highway, immediately in front of Evergreen Cemetery where Curt has been laid to rest.  That was for another friend, Rob Spears, killed in an automobile accident early on a Wednesday morning, July 24, 1991.  I have never forgotten Rob in all of these years and often visit his gravesite at Rest Haven Cemetery in southcentral Jefferson County.

The bend in the road where Curt lost his life is one I have seen many times over the years, including once with Rob 22 years ago.  My brother lived in Borden for a while and I visited him several times.  On one of those occasions, Rob, at my brother's request, drove my brother's 1986 Firebird back to my house from Kevin's mobile home.  Another friend, Keith Dickerson, lived in Borden off and on for a while as he worked the farmlands up on top of Saint John Hill, home to the various orchards of the intermingled Stumler and Huber families.  Again, I made the trek back and forth several time between here and there.  I always notice the highway sign on westbound (but technically northbound) IN60, right after IN111 comes to an end at Bennettsville.  It reads "Borden 9, Salem 23."  Those two numbers represent my birthday.  A small thing, but the sign remains.  I noticed it again as I went to see the site where Curt died.  I will miss him.  I still miss Rob.  Rest In Peace, Curtis Lee Heckel.  Good night, sweet prince.

732. An eastward loop to Beech Ridge and back

A very good day for a road trip. Michael and I went southeast first to Mount Washington, then east to Taylorsville, stopping briefly at the Valley Cemetery. From there northeast through Mount Eden to an art show and book signing at the Moonlite Ridge Farm in southeastern Shelby County. Northward to and through Waddy for a history lesson on street names around Graefenburg and thence north to Beech Ridge Cemetery and the Peters/Perkins/Hockensmith cemetery on the Engstler farm literally on Beech Ridge and up the hill from Hatton. Turning back towards home along the Benson Pike, we trekked past Guist Creek Lake and into Shelbyville where we stopped at the funeral home owned by my cousin, Steve Collins. A conversation of politics, post offices, and the past covered an hour's time, before (finally) making our way back to Jefferson County. A nice little vacation.

A new Hidden Location and an answer to the last one

At some point I need to get back to writing real blog entries instead of these little games. But, I am enjoying them so that may not happen for a while. First, a new picture, Hidden Location #12, for Marty to locate. Wait, I meant for everyone to take a stab at locating before Marty figures it out. Go.



Marty's answer for Hidden Location #11 is correct. That is the 1200 block of Hull Street looking northeast. This is the Irish Hill neighborhood just off Baxter Avenue near what is now called Lexington Road. The subdivision known as Irish Hill was laid out in two parts, the earlier one closer to Lexington Road, then known as Hamilton Avenue, was the old Valentine Schneikert property and developed by Adolph Hull, who probably named Hull Street. The Schneikert mansion still exists up on a hill behind some condos which front at 1234 Lexington Road. Very few people ever see the Schneikert mansion, which now has been converted to apartments and has a Pine Street address. I cannot locate a good picture of that home. Schneikert was a Louisville brickmaker in the post-Civil War era. His home was built prior to 1884.

[WRITER/EDITOR'S NOTE: Before some more informed soul than I points it out to me, someone like Dr. Tom Owen, I must confess I've eliminated a reference in the last sentence of the above paragraph to Mr. Schneikert's home being built of wood, as opposed to brick. When I wrote that earlier - the reference is now gone - I felt I was wrong. So, as part of my evening drive I went and found the house and found (most of it) to be constructed of brick, as is befitting the home of a Louisville brick merchant. Thanks for allowing me to clear that up].

Two people mentioned the old brick mansion at 1212 Hull Street, pictured below, believed to have been built around 1868. That was the home of Nicholas Finzer, a Louisville tobacco merchant - The Five Brothers Tobacco Company - as well as a member of the old Louisville School Board. A school once stood on E. Broadway between Shelby and Clay streets on the south side named for Mr. Finzer and Finzer Street runs behind the old school proeprty over to Smoketown. I've put a picture of the school below that of his mansion. It is now a parking lot.

These two homes in Irish Hill aren't that far apart. I can't determine where the proeprty division may have been based on the current street grid. But the balance of the Schneikert property was re-subdivided by an Act of the General Assembly on March 24, 1884. This later section became the property of the Payne family and Payne Street obviously is named for them. This subdivision extended over to the now-abandoned Eastern Cemetery where my Schlenk relatives are buried, including my great-grandmother Loraine Augusta Schlenk Lee Hall, and her parents, Emil and Minnie Schlenk.

*****


Nicholas Finzer Mansion, 1212 Hull Street


Nicholas Finzer School, formerly at 740 E. Broadway

647. Off to Oldham, and back

After work today I ventured up to Jefferson County's neighbor to the northeast, Oldham, and specifically to the small village of Westport, an idyllic gathering of maybe six city blocks of one-lane roads (and one large modern subdivision) set on the banks of the Ohio River about eighteen miles upriver from Louisville and eight miles due north of Oldham's county seat, La Grange - or LaGrange, without the space. I usually use the space. Westport at one time served as the County Seat for the county - in fact it did it twice before La Grange finally took the title for good in 1838. Westport is a very old village, as old as (or perhaps a year or two older than) our hometown of Louisville here along the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606. If my math is correct, Westport is somewhere close to Milepost 588.

Getting to Westport is simple. Go out US42 until you come to KY524. KY524 intersects US42 at two different places. If coming from the east at Sligo, it is about a five and a half mile journey. From the west at Skylight it is just over a three mile journey. While the directions are simple, the road itself is a little treacherous with its narrow shoulders and undulating pattern. I wouldn't want to have to drive it on any regular basis nor would I want to drive it at all on snow or ice.

The occasion was the Friends of Westport forum for candidates. I went to see John Waltz, the Democratic candidate for Kentucky's Fourth Congressional District at the invitation of my friend (and fellow State Party Committeemember) Lisa Tanner. Besides Mr. Waltz and his opponent, the Republican incumbent, there were also speeches from candidates for the State House and Senate. Not speaking but mingling in the crowd were two judicial candidate as well as an old friend, former Jefferson District Judge John Carter, an Okolona native and Southern High School graduate who is the Republican nominee for Oldham County Attorney. I've known Judge Carter for many years and we had a nice chat. Danny and Patty Meyer, more friends of many years, were also present. Danny was the 8th Ward Aldermen and later the 38th District State Senator in Louisville in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s. He and Patty retired to the outskirts of La Grange a few years back. I had seen them earlier in the day at a press conference held by their son, my friend Marty Meyer, who is running to reclaim for the Democrats the Senate seat formerly held by his father.

The setting for the event in Westport was quite simple - the local firehouse. All the trucks had been pulled outside opening up the floor for a dais and chairs. Actually, there weren't many firehouse chairs and the townspeople had been advised to bring their own chairs which most did. About 30 people were gathered for some simple speeches from the candidates. Although the county sheriff stood at the firehouse door, it was all a very friendly affair, complete with pitchers of lemonade and kool-aid, along with several varieties of cookies. I focussed on the peanut butter cookies. It took me four before I decided whether or not I actually liked them. I did.

After the forum the townspeople returned to their homes, many on foot carrying their fold-up chairs, while the out-of-towners trekked back to civilisation along KY524 and US42. Before leaving the little village (a place I've been to maybe six times over the years, and along with Taylorsville, one of the first places off the beaten path I drove to when I was sixteen and alone behind the wheel) I lit a nice cigar and took a walk.

The firehouse is located at 3rd and Clinton streets - again both not much more than one-lane wide. I walked down the alley beside the firehouse to Second Street, or Covington Ridge Road as described on the map. Turns out that alley was actually Court Street. Then a few feet eastward was another extension of Clinton Street which takes you down the hill toward the river and Front Street. The older part of the town is up on the hill. There is a market, a restaurant, a Baptist Church, and a post office. Oldham County government maintains a park and boat ramp at the foot of Main Street near to the river. My walk took me down to the water's edge where, following an ancient tradition, I slipped off a shoe and sock and stuck my toes in. Two women sitting on a boat pier watched my little performance but said nothing, at least while I was within earshod.

The first time I went out there in 1977, there was no new subdivision. The Jack Taylor Place subdivision of large homes on large lots was built in the 1980s. It is to the west of the town on a cleared plain. West of town means west of Washington Street, another one-lane road and east of Eighteen Mile Creek, which empties into the Ohio just above Eighteen Mile Island. On the outside corner of Fourth and Washington, at what appears to be the original southwest corner of the town, is the Westport Public Cemetery. Another cemetery, also on Fourth, on the east side, meaning two blocks away, is a walled cemetery named for three families. Unfortunately, only one caught my attention - Palin. I wonder if the former governor of Alaska's husband has any kin back here in Kentucky. Almost every family which went west does. Maybe Todd Palin is no exception.

After my walking tour, about 3/4 mile, I returned to my car and, like the other non-locals, made mmy way back to US42, and thence southwestwardly home. It was a pleasant little trip.

643. I did come back

I haven't posted for two and a half weeks. Seems I left y'all down in the Kentucky Bend of the Mississippi River with a promise of stories about the return trip. My apologies. Interestingly, my readership hasn't suffered from the lack of posting - still the same seven faithful readers.

At this point I'm not going to give you a paragraph or two for each road and highway used to make the trip back home. Suffice it to say, at least while in Kentucky, they were mostly two lane state routes through stretches of largely unpopulated territory - what seemed to be some of western Kentucky's coal country - areas previously undiscovered in my trekking about the backroads of Kentucky.

From the Bend, I returned to Fulton County proper travelling to the county seat Hickman, and from there to Clinton, the county seat of Hickman County immediately north. Along the way, just west of the intersection of KY239 and KY123, I spied an old school building called Oakton or Oakdale or something. I wish I had taken the time to learn more about it while I was in the area but didn't. I've sent off an email to a Hickman County historian in the hopes of learning more.

I passed through Clinton to KY307, which runs in a nearly straight north-south line for almost 34 miles from Fulton to its intersection with US62 in northeastern Carlisle County, one of the longest straigh lines of pavement anywhere in the Commonwealth. I drove about 13 of those miles to that point, taking US62 eastward through a few miles of Ballard County and into western Kentucky's metropolis, Paducah, the seat of McCracken County. Here I visited the parents of a friend of mine, spending two hours gossiping about the County Judge and County Clerk's races, one of which includes the write-in candidacy of a Republican woman who is apparently running at te behest of the County Judge. The incumbent County Clerk, a Democrat, is otherwise running unopposed. From there I headed back to my motel room in beautiful Calvert City to prepare the next day's trip back toward the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606.


Early the next morning, before leaving Calvert City, I drove to the northern dead-end of KY95 in Marshall County where the road becomes a boatramp into the Tennessee River. The picture here is looking eastward (or upriver). It was an inspiring sight - that's Livingston County across the river to the left.

I crossed back over the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers following the new US62 eastward up through Caldwell County and into Hopkins County and its intersection with KY109 northward. I'll have to admit I've never really been much off the main roads in Hopkins County. Back in 1995 I spent a lot of timing driving State Representative Jim Wayne around in his Primary race for State Auditor. One of those trips was to some kind of BBQ event sponsored by State Representative Eddie Ballard of Hopkins County. I'm not sure I could find it today, but until this recent venture, that was my only detour from the regularly scheduled roadways. I left Madisonville, the county seat, eastward on the four-lane Anton Road - KY 70. At the fork in the road just before the community of Anton and a crossing of the CSX Railroad, I went to the left as is my wont and ended up on KY85. For seven long and lonely miles, KY 85 traverses acres and acres (and acres and acres) of corn and soybeans. There were no mailboxes and no electric lines along this elevated section of highway along the bottomlands of eastern Hopkins County. The road eventually crosses the Pond River and into McLean County, just north of the Muhlenberg line. After a few miles, KY85 comes to an end and thus I turned northward onto KY181 and into the village of Sacramento.

Sacramento is a town I've been meaning to visit for some time. For several years now I've been trying to get my friend Preston Bates to join me on a May trip here for the annual reenactment of the Battle of Sacramento, a Civil War event cited by the locals as the first war victory attributed to Nathan Bedford Forrest, a lieutenant general of the Confederate States Army and hero to many in the Old South. Forrest was a self-educated military genius who prior to his service to the Lost Cause was an alderman and slave owner and trader in Memphis, Tennessee. For many, this alone should discredit him. But, let me offer a speech he delivered to his troops upon the end of the war which saw his side capitulate and surrender to the overwhelming forces of United States Army General Ulysses Grant. If more of today's self-proclaimed adherants to the Old South would heed the words of their military hero, General Forrest, a multitude of racial problems might just go away. Here is a part of what he said to his troops at his headquarters in Gainesville, Alabama on May 9, 1865:

Civil war, such as you have just passed through naturally engenders feelings of animosity, hatred, and revenge. It is our duty to divest ourselves of all such feelings; and as far as it is in our power to do so, to cultivate friendly feelings towards those with whom we have so long contended, and heretofore so widely, but honestly, differed. Neighborhood feuds, personal animosities, and private differences should be blotted out; and, when you return home, a manly, straightforward course of conduct will secure the respect of your enemies. Whatever your responsibilities may be to Government, to society, or to individuals meet them like men. The attempt made to establish a separate and independent Confederation has failed; but the consciousness of having done your duty faithfully, and to the end, will, in some measure, repay for the hardships you have undergone. In bidding you farewell, rest assured that you carry with you my best wishes for your future welfare and happiness. Without, in any way, referring to the merits of the Cause in which we have been engaged, your courage and determination, as exhibited on many hard-fought fields, has elicited the respect and admiration of friend and foe. And I now cheerfully and gratefully acknowledge my indebtedness to the officers and men of my command whose zeal, fidelity and unflinching bravery have been the great source of my past success in arms. I have never, on the field of battle, sent you where I was unwilling to go myself; nor would I now advise you to a course which I felt myself unwilling to pursue. You have been good soldiers, you can be good citizens. Obey the laws, preserve your honor, and the Government to which you have surrendered can afford to be, and will be, magnanimous.

This year's reenactment was held the weekend of May 21 (although the actual Battle was in late December). Preston and I had both just concluded our work in different Democratic primaries and neither of us was up to the trip. Perhaps next year. But, I digress.


I left Sacramento northward to the county seat at Calhoun where I picked up KY81. Coming down off the Veterans Memorial Bridge over the Green River into downtown Calhoun deposits you at a stop sign on Main Street just south of Second. The east side of Main north of Second is occupied by the McLean County Court House. Main Street runs on for about a mile north of town out to the Calhoun Cemetery where a fork in the road leads KY81 off to the right. As a side note, the fork to the left, KY815, leads to a town called West Louisville. I wonder if they cruise along Broadway in West Louisville on Derby Day? I wonder if they even celebrate Derby Day? Again, I digress.

A few miles north of Calhoun, I turned east onto KY140 which leads to one of my ancestral communities, Utica, in southern Daviess County. I've written about Utica before and my great-grandfather Robert Lewis' forefathers being from there. At KY140's intersection with US431, I turned northward through what appears to be another mining region in Browns Valley and into Owensboro, the Daviess County seat.

The Kentucky part of my trip home ends, at least for now, in Daviess County. I worked my way through downtown and eastward out of town along E. 4th Street, co-numbered as US60 and US231. There is a great deal of highway construction going on as the east side extension of the Wendell H. Ford By-Pass around the city is being reconstructed to connect to the recently rebuilt US60/231, which leads to the fairly new (opened in October 2002) and strikingly beautiful William Natcher Bridge, carrying US231 out of Kentucky and into southern Indiana. US231 is being completely reconstructed in Indiana as a four-lane divided highway - almost an interstate - all the way up to I-64 north of the town of Dale. Gone will be the days of travelling the narrow but terribly straight US231 which presently passes through the communities of Rockport, Chrisney, Gentryville (with its connection to all-things-Lincoln), and Dale on its route from Owensboro to I-64.



As with other journeys which eventually reach I-64 in this very Catholic area of Indiana, I tend to head straight on eastward into Louisville, about a 70 mile journey from this point. This trip was no exception. I'm sorry it has taken all these weeks to get you back home, but here we are.

Have a good weekend.

642. The Road Trip within the Road Trip

In the preview I mentioned several cities "and the ride back." This entry concerns those matters.

But first, let me say again how impressed I was with Attorney General Jack Conway's speech at Fancy Farm. Clearly he has the temperament needed to be a leader for Kentucky for many years to come. Suffice it to say, I back Jack.

So, shortly after Jack spoke, and well into his opponent's rant on a variety of matters, I took matters into my own hands - literally my steering wheel - and set off on my Road Trip within the Road Trip to Fancy Farm.

I had a goal in mind - the New Madrid Bend, that little hook of land rising northward out of far northwestern Tennessee but always (and properly) shown on maps as part of Kentucky - specifically a part of Fulton County, Kentucky.

For the following discussion, which will eventually get back to the New Madrid Bend, let's first remember that Kentucky was formed from part of Virginia and that Tennessee was formed from part of North Carolina, and that each of these earlier states were originally British colonies.

Back on February 10, 1763, a treaty signed in Paris, France settled what was known as the Seven Years War, a feud between Great Britain and France, which on our side of the big pond was known as the French and Indian War. On that date, a date which should be learned (or learnt, as I learned) by every student of Kentucky history, the treaty set the western boundary of the colonies of Great Britain in America, and specifically the colonies of Virginia and Carolina.

That treaty granted to Great Britain everything east of the Left Bank of the Mississippi River (which includes parts of the western boundary of present-day Kentucky).

The boundary on Kentucky's southern border was first established in 1663 with Virginia's boundary settlement with the colony of Carolina, later North Carolina. That boundary was set as the 36 degree 30 minute North Latitude mark - the great 36-30 line which divides many a culture, county, and state throughout our Republic. Several surveyors set out to mark the what they believed to be the 36-30 line.

While the bottom of Kentucky should be a straight line from a point in the Cumberland Gap at "the seven pines and two black oaks" and thence west to the "Western waters," effectively the Mississippi River, any map reader will see the line meanders very slightly northwardly as it crosses from west to east - the Duncan notch south of Franklin being an exception - all the way to the Tennessee River. At that point, the survey boundary is some sixteen miles north of the 36-30 line. One problem was that they started about six miles north of the 36-30 line over at the Cumberland Gap. The line west of the Tennessee River, established in 1818 with what is known as the "Jackson Purchase" and called the Munsell Line accurately places the boundary along the 36-30 line. The entire line was eventually settled by a court case in 1859.

But, there is the problem of the meandering Mississippi. In the far northwestern corner of Tennessee and southwestern corner of Kentucky, the Mississippi, as it makes its way southward wanders below the 36-30, then makes a u-turn northward back above the 36-30, then makes another to the west and continues its southerly flow below the 36-30. Thus a portion of land is both east of the Mississippi and north of the 36-30 but not connected to the rest of Kentucky. Still, according to the treaties establishing the borders in 1663 and 1763, along with the so-called "purchase" of 1818, and the court case of 1859, that land is rightfully part of Kentucky. And that's where I was headed after hearing Jack Conway's speech Saturday.

My seven faithful readers know I have a practice of travelling to a place on one set of roads and returning hence on another. Getting to and from the New Madrid Bend required some planning. I left Fancy Farm southbound - nearly due southbound - along KY339 for Fulton, an old trading town situated on both sides of the Kentucky-Tennessee state line, separated by State Line Road, which is KY116. Following KY116 west, I crossed the centerline line of the road, and thus into Tennessee by turning south on CR21 into Obion County, Tennessee toward Union City. At Union City, I turned westward along SR22 toward Tiptonville, the county seat of Lake County. SR21 wraps around the bottom of Reelfoot Lake, a very shallow lake formed by the great earthquake of February 7, 1812, an earthquake felt not only in Louisville and Saint Louis, but also New York and Boston.

There is a slight depression in the earth in this area and waters from the Mississippi, about twelve miles away, washed out of the riverbanks and in a counter direction from the river, and settled in the lowlands of what is now Reelfoot Lake. This is a beautiful body of water with homes and parks surrounding the water's edge - a simply beautiful lake. Unlike Kentucky's lakes, which are down in valleys and cannot usually be entirely seen because of the hills and dells separating the arms of the lake, Reelfoot's broad footprint is a long and wide and level piece of land. It is a place I hope to return to one day. I did, as is sometimes my wont, take off my shoes and socks and wandered down into the waters along one of the boatramps, shown in the picture.

But Reelfoot was not my destination. To get there, I had to wander through Tiptonville, across the railroad tracks, and northward along a desolate roadway numbered as CR22 and called Kentucky Bend Road. Now I have always called my destination the New Madrid Bend, so-named for the Missouri city which is on the northern shore of the bend. But I learned in this trip that it is more regularly called the Kentucky Bend, and by the five people who live there, called simply the Bend. At the state line the quality, color, and texture of the road changes. In Kentucky the road is more just a lane, somewhat narrower, somewhat smoother, and certainly lighter in color than the red-clayed ashphalt which covers many Tennessee roadways.


I stopped briefly and spoke with a local, a man who name was Kimmel (I think). He is married to "a Whitson girl," the Whitsons being the predominant - read only - family left in the bottom land contained within the Bend. He pointed out the building, at left, which once served as the store, school, post office, and voting poll for the Bend, but which was abandoned long ago. Kimmel actually has a Tiptonville, Tennessee mailing address.


We talked about the history of the place along with a little politics. I was wearing my Yarmuth for Congress t-shirt which rendered a question from Kimmel, "who is Yarmuth?" I explained. I never determined Kimmel's politics although it would be easy enough to say that they were somewhere to the right of mine. I enjoyed the history lesson, a lesson filled with the stories of the now-deceased members of the Whitson, Everette, and other families buried in the only real landmark of the island, a very well maintained cemetery.

Upon leaving Kimmel and the Bend I began my journey back to the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606, a journey of about 320 miles and an entry which will be recorded on another day.

558. Weekend Wrapup

I was busy the entire weekend. Covered a lot of ground in many different places and a few different ways.

The busy weekend started with my friend Morgan Ransdell at Actors Theater on Main Street in downtown Louisville. It was a production of William Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. It was quite a production that, had it been a movie, might have been rated R or at least PG-13. The acting was interesting as the story was set somewhere in haze of the drug-infused 1960s, replete with a Volkswagen full of second-rate actors for the play-within-the-play, a Shakespeare staple. Older readers might recall sets from Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In or the old Dating Game.

As written by the Bard, the stars are Oberon, Titania, and Puck, respectively the King and Queen of the Faeries, and Oberon's special servant, Puck, sometimes known as Robin Goodfellow. As performed, the characters of Puck and Bottom (the Ass, from the Players Troupe) took the center stage of the viewers' attention. Eric Bondoc , my favorite for the night, played a very seductive and somewhat homoerotic Puck to his master King Oberon, played by Edward O'Blennis. Puck's unusual singing voice, a sultry lower-middle range, added to the intensity. O'Blennis' portrayal was a cross of Jimi Hendrix, Richard Pryor, the performer once and presently known as Prince, and a few others. He was great. Bottom was portrayed by Aaron Munoz who is transformed as an ass and plays lover to Queen Titania, which was played by Jessica Morris. Munoz as the Ass as well as his Bottom was over-the-top in so many ways. His ramblings around the stage interacting with nearly every other cast member at some point was excellent. We laughed through the entire production which was a litte long on time but never short on creativity and excitement. A great Friday night.

Saturday and Sunday were spent with Preston Bates touring the counties which comprise the 14th Kentucky Senate District, a district where it is anticipated a Special Election may be called for December 8. Preston was already in the area with his U of L History class on some sort of field trip to the Perryville Battlefield State Park in Boyle County, one of my favorite places in Kentucky and our stake in the tourist department for Civil War buffs. Waiting for Preston's class to end, I hiked one of the two loop trails, a distance of about 1.5 miles through Parson's Ridge, the Widow Gibson site, overlooking the Bottom House, up and down Loomis' Heights, along Doctor's Creek, and eventually returning to the Trailhead near the Confederate Cemetery and the Union Monument. I can use the exercise, and this little hike was probably the most I have had in years.

Eventually Preston and I joined up, leaving Perryville and headed to Harrodsburg. We viewed the site for the new Court House, going up on the same Civic Square where three previous courthouses have been erected. Harrodsburg is the county seat of Mercer County, one of the five counties in the 14th Senate District. We headed north out of town and out of the district into Anderson County toward the BG Parkway. As Preston's class had centered on the Civil War, I took him to the Salt River Baptist Church Cemetery in Lawrenceburg where, among many others, are buried distant cousins of mine, the Moore brothers, Samuel and James. Samuel and James were Confederate soldiers under the command of Louisville's Lt. Col. Bennett Young. Here is a trivia question for you. The Moore brothers of Lawrenceburg, Kentucky participated in the northernmost skirmish of the Civil War as privates in the 8th Kentucky Cavalry of the Confederate Army. The "raid" occurred fifteen miles from the Canadian border. Any takers on the name of the raid?

Also buried in the Salt River Cemetery is my 5-Greats Uncle and 6-Greats Grandfather, the same person, Johann Michael Hockersmith, a veteran of the Revolutionary War whose grave is marked by a Sons of the American Revolution plaque. He died around 1812. The cemetery and church date from 1798.

From there, as it was getting late, we took the Bluegrass Parkway over to the western side of the 14th District, to its most populous county, Nelson, and its county seat of Bardstown. However, again a detour. Preston has asked me in the past about the Catholic population of central Kentucky. Nelson County is the base of this popluation, and even before Bardstown was the community of Saint Thomas, home for Bishop Flaget's cabin, the Saint Thomas Church, and the original building which housed Nazareth College, the forerunner of my alma mater, Spalding University. The building dates from 1814. From there we went into Bardstown where we ate supper at a Mexican restaurant on Third Street. We called it a night and proceeded back to Louisville.

Sunday's trip covered the rest of the 14th District, beginning in far southern Taylor County at Tebbs Bend. This beginning again took us into Civil War territory. On July 4, 1863, while the rest of the country was focussed on battles at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania and Vicksburg, Mississippi, another smaller battle was being fought over the Green River Bridge at Tebbs Bend in Taylor County. A confederate cemetery marks the spot and among its graves are those of James Hockensmith and Alexander Hockersmith, cousins of mine, both from the family of Johann Michael mentioned above. We left the cemetery driving into Campbellsville with its very non-descript courthouse built in the 1960s as well as Campbellsville University on the northwest side of town.

From there we headed north on US68 and the detoured onto KY208, an older path between Campbellsville and the Marion County seat of Lebanon. This road takes us through Calvary, a small town memorable for me as the place where my Ford Ranger PickUp crossed the 100,000 mile mark on the odometer a few years back. Ah, the memories. In Lebanon, we drove around several parts of town noting the statuary at the corner of Spalding Avenue and Walnut Street. Spalding heads out of Lebanon and Marion County and into Springfield and Washington County, following KY55. Nine miles of very good highway separate the two county seats.

In Washington County I am always interested in passing the Mordecai Lincoln House, once belonging to the president's uncle. I helped with its original fundraising drive for restoration back in 1979. Upon the death of Mordecai's father, Abraham, who was killed in a Native American raid in Jefferson County, Mordecai inherited his father's property in Washington County. The president's parents were married a little north of this site in 1806. Three years ago, a reenactment of that marriage was the official opening event of our country's celebration of President Lincoln's bicentennial. The marriage license marking this event can be found in Washington's 1816 courthouse, Kentucky's oldest still in daily use.

We ventured north out of Sprinfield past the Lincoln Homestead Park, using KY555, Kentucky's proposed Heartland Parkway. Although this is a very wide two-lane highway, you can see the even wider right-of-way marked by the fencelines, right-of-way which someday could allow for the construction of another two (or more) lanes. I've written before about this connecting road between Green River Lake and Taylorsville Lake, and it was on KY555 and its connecting KY248, that we returned home to Louisville, thus completing our tour of the 14th District's five counties, counties we will need to know all we can in a few weeks as we approach the Special Election.

I will add pictures later.

494. A Few Brief Notes

Brief Note #1. One of the most relaxing things a person or family could do is spend an afternoon in a riverside park - actually the two-acre front yard of an old riverside mansion - listening to a "pops" orchestra. My friend Preston and I did that Sunday in Madison listening to the Cincinnati Regional Pops Orchestra play selections from Aaron Copeland, Broadway musicals, John Williams' Star Wars, and closing with John Philip Souza's traditional Stars and Stripes Forever, the Official March of the United States of America by an Act of Congress. Regular readers will recall that Souza's grave is in the Congressional Cemetery, one of my favorite places to visit in the capital city of our Republic. The gravesite is shown at right.

Brief Note #2. Tomorrow night Kentucky's Lieutenant Governor, the Honorable Daniel Mongiardo, will be the guest speaker at the regular monthly meeting of the Metro Democratic Club, held at 6:30 pm at the American Legion Hall opposite Saint Raphael Catholic Church on Bardstown Road. Mongiardo, at left from his days as a former Kentucky State Senator from Hazard, is a leading surgeon in eastern Kentucky and in 2007 was elected lieutenant governor on the winning ticket of Beshear-Mongiardo. And like the fictional "real live nephew of my Uncle Sam" Dan is born on the Fourth of July, two months and a few weeks before me in the closing months of the Dwight D. Eisenhower administration. I hope you can come hear Lt. Gov. Mongiardo address the issues of the day, some of which, I am sure, will be related to his campaign to succeed Jim Bunning as the junior United States Senator for the Commonwealth of Kentucky, something he damn near did in 2004 when he achieved the record for the most votes ever received by a Democrat in our state, a record which still stands.

Brief Note #3. The blog will be on break until next week. Happy June!

493. Trying to add YouTube Videos and other things

While reading Paul Hosse's blog Another Opinion the other day, I noticed he has a list of music videos down the sidebar of his blog - you click on the link and up pops a new window with the YouTube video of the song you chose. One song on his list caught my attention, Procol Harem's Whiter Shade of Pale, which I can remember listening to at Charlie Brown's on Euclid Avenue in Lexington back in the early 1980s, while drinking way-too-many Kahlua-Cream-Vodkas and eating Charlie Brown Burgers smothered in Swiss Cheese and Grey Poupon.

But, I digress.

I want to do the music video link thing here on the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606 over there on the right sidebar. I've been experimenting, but so far, what I've done hasn't accomplished what I want to do. So, bear with me. At some point I will figure it out and I'll begin posting the videos as I come across them. My goal is to put them on the list in order of preference, such that the video at the top of the list will be, by its placement, my favorite. In fact, I already know which video takes the post. I just wish I knew how the hell to do it.

Whenever I figure out how, at the top of the list will be Jackson Browne's 1971 hit (released in 1972 on his debut album) Doctor My Eyes. I am pretty sure it is my favorite song. Two other Jackson Browne hits are in my top 20 list, Running on Empty and Load Out/Stay, both from the Running on Empty album which came out my senior year of high school.

Other videos I will eventually link will feature Peter Paul and Mary, Elton John, Barbra Streisand, George Michael, Ray Charles, Guns 'N' Roses, The Eagles, Boston, Lynard Skynard, Pink Floyd, the Doobie Brothers, and maybe even George Jones. But, first, I've got to figure out how to do it. Again, bear with me.

*****

Totally unrelated, my friend Preston and I went upriver today to the Preston Plantation landing in Trimble County where we were expecting to see a Civil War battle reenactment, which we didn't. What we did see was curiously interesting, but not so much so that I'll write any more about it. So, we left. From there we went over to Madison, Indiana (ten minutes away) where the 200th Anniversary of the founding of the city is taking place for the next two weeks. We walked all over the city, had lunch in a little diner (burger and fries), checked out the progress on the Court House fire, and visited the wharf along the river. We found out the Cincinnati Orchestra is having a free concert there tomorrow as part of the festivities, so, as both of us are orchestra fans, we will be going back.

As to the Court House, I was very pleased to learn that, as I had indicated in a previous post, more was salvageable that was originally thought to be so. The records are being restored by an archiving company in Michigan which specialises in such work, freeze-drying the records for later restoration, just like Taster's Choice Coffee. The building itself is still a very sorrowful sight, but life and restoration is going on, which is good. A note - in the Art Gallery directly across Main Street from the Court House is a very-recently-painted picture of the fire. Further west in one of the shops are photos made into postcards of the fire. And there are two Special Sections in today's edition of The Madison Courier, one on the Bicentennial and the other on The Day The Court House Burned. May 20, 2009 is a date which will remain in the minds of the citizens of Jefferson County, Indiana for many years to come.

On the way back to Louisville, we took the Indiana side and dropped down into the little town of Bethlehem, Indiana, of which I have written before. My step-great-grandmother, Margaret "Maggie" Church, was the matriarch of the town for many years and is buried in the cemetery up on the hill on the northwest edge of the town.

Then we came home.

471. Happy Easter, among other things

Happy Easter.

Along with my dear friend Migael Dickerson, who called me fresh out of bed at 9:55 a.m. to say he would be joining me at 10:30 a.m. for Easter Mass, I attended church at the Episcopal Church of the Advent, at the top of Broadway on Baxter Avenue. (Migael arrived during the Second Reading). After the lighting of the Easter Candle by the deacon, the Reverend Dr. Eva Markham, the homily was delivered by the Reverend Dr. Tim Mitchell, centering on Jesus being the light of the world, a light which despite much of what happens as life goes on and on, and much does happen, the light can not be extinguished. It was a very good sermon.

Afterwards, the congregation celebrated with champagne and chocolates, set upon a table on what the parishioners call "the point" which is the sliver of land north of the church where Cherokee Road and Baxter Avenue come together opposite Broadway on the west and Cave Hill Cemetery on the east. Last week we used the perimeter of "the point" to make our Passion Sunday Procession into the church. I'm big on processionals and recessionals, in and out of the church, although I joined the Roman Catholic Church too late in life to fully understand "the old days" of Mary feasts, Corpus Christi, and others. Still, I like the ritual.

That point where we celebrated with champagne and chocolates was created when Louisville's "first subdivision" was built in the late 19th century, the beginnings of what is now called the Cherokee Triangle. It began by piercing Broadway across Baxter Avenue, and angled to the southeast, a new road which we now call Cherokee Road, but what originally known as New Broadway. The piercing of the street crossed over property which had been a part of Cave Hill Cemetery and the small amount of cemetery land south of this new road and north of Baxter, now detached from the main tract and unsuitable for burials, became home to the Episcopal Churh of the Advent, first in the form of a lease, and later by passage of title.

They also had organge juice available, which helped me with the champagne, something I truly do not like the taste of. But, a little organge juice makes for a mimosa, something I can handle, especially on a beautiful morning as we had today. From church, I visited the grave of my late uncle, among others, who is buried in Calvary Cemetery, a mile and a half south of the church. Calvary is one of Louisville's Catholic Cemeteries, of which there are officially four, the others being Saint Louis, Saint Michael's, and Saint John's (which is also known as Saint Mary's). There are at least two other Catholic Cemeteries, although they are privately controlled. Saint Andrews is a bucolic spot on top of one of the Seven Hills of southwestern Jefferson County, located off Saint Andrews Church Road on Saint Anthony's Church Road - see the picture above. The other is Saint Stephen, which is a small cemetery along the west side of S. Preston Street, a few blocks north of Eastern Parkway. There is some story having to do with the establishment of Saint Stephen's being centered on a rise of the fees associated with the opening and closing of a grave. I'm not clear on the story so I'll leave it at that.

I eventually made it to my mother's where I was fed, as is usally the case. She had chicken and potatoes and three-bean salad - and root beer to drink. There may have been other items available, but that's what I had. Thus ended my Easter celebration.

*****

Yesterday I was in Frankfort for a meeting of the Kentucky Democratic Party State Central Executive Committee. Other than confirming the governor's choice for a Vice Chair, nothing of note happened although it was relatively interesting and exciting meeting, as our meetings go. Our new vice chair is Bath Coumnty Judge Executive Caroyn Belcher, a CPA from Owingsville. Bath County, whose courthouse is pictured at left, is a few counties east of Fayette along I-64. It is one of five counties in Kentucky which is represented in two different congressional districts, the 4th and the 5th; the other four being Lincoln (1st and 6th), Ohio (1st and 2nd), Scott (4th and 6th), and Jefferson, where twelve precincts mostly in Okolona are in the 2nd rather than the 3rd. After the meeting, I had a lenghthy conversation with George Mills who is the SCEC By-Laws Committee Chair. We talked about divided districts, whether they be these congressional divisions, or the 46 legislative districts in more than one county, such as the 39th in Fayette and Jessamine or the 59th in Jefferson and Oldham, or senate districts such as the 7th, which is in several counties in central Kentucky.

In my last term on the SCEC, I had proposed several by-law amendments which addressed shortcomings (in my opinion) of our by-laws, but my efforts were defeated in February 2008, the day the lawyers stuck together and eventually tabled those efforts. I am hopeful the conversation I had with Mr. Mills will afford an opportunity to reopen those discussions, with a friendlier reception.

Leaving the meeting, I made stops at several cemeteries on my way home. First was Sunset Memorial Gardens, where several generations of my Lewis and Collins and Hockensmith relations are buried, including my grandparents who raised me. From there I went through downtown Frankfort, emerging on the west side of the county along Benson Creek and made my way to Beech Ridge Cemetery in Shelby County. Here are even older generations from my Hockensmith, Perkins, and Peters branches. I also found a cemetery on Bob Rogers Road in that same area with some Perkins and Smith burials. I'm confident the Perkinses there are kin, although I'm not sure as to how. I arrived in Shelbyville along Benson Pike and from there made my way back home.

Finally, trivia.

Since this is entry #471, can anyone tell me where the highway known (but not marked) as KY471 is located?

431. A Road and a Trip

It is a habit of mine to write about Kentucky's highway routes which coincide with the current entry number of the blog. Applying that to today's entry would mean writing about US431, a road which enters Kentucky from the south but never exits to the north. US431 enters in Logan County and is one three US highways which intersect in downtown Russellville, the other two being US79 and US68. US431 traverses generally north by northwest up through the state ending its entire run, both in Kentucky and the Republic, in downtown Owensboro.

I'll have to admit I've not actually driven many miles on US 431. I usually only cross it, either on US68/KY80 or the Wendell H. Ford Western Kentucky Parkway. If I have driven on it, it has only been for a few miles around one of those intersections, or somewhere in Owensboro. So, to be honest, there isn't much I can offer about my "backroads travel" on US431.

So, instead, let me tell you more about a trip I am planning.

I am getting excited about the roadtrip to the Inauguration. I'd be lying if I wrote otherwise. Early next Sunday morning, very early in the morning, me and my band of fellow travellers will take to the roads and head to our Republic's seat of government. For several weeks now, I've scoured the web versions of several Washington newspapers and magazines, getting the local take on what is happening along the Potomac a little over 600 miles from here along the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606.

But it sort of hit me late last night when viewing pictures of President-elect Obama and his family as they gazed upon Father Abraham at his memorial on The Mall. I've been there a few times, but it occurred to me looking at those pictures, I can not remember when. We all know the president-elect has borrowed much from the words and legacy of Mr. Lincoln and shares a particular parallel to him - while both were elected as an Illinoian, neither was born there. Obama is a native Hawaiian; Lincoln a Kentuckian. Kentucky was once America's western frontier. Hawaii is now. The historicity of it all is, for me, almost too real.

Thus, while our itenerary for the 20th is set, at least for the morning and early afternoon, there are other hours and days which are unscheduled, at least unscheduled officially. I'll have to work with the others in my group, but there are several places, three in particular, I want to see while there. They are the Congressional Cemetery, the Folger Shakespeare Library, and the National Cathedral, the latter which I've never been to as far as I can remember. My goal was in those free hours not to visit the places that everyone else usually does, which would include The Mall and all the centers of activity along The Mall, but that will change as I am now intent on gazing into the eyes of Abraham Lincoln much as Mr. Obama did yesterday. One place that is on very few people's lists of places to visit, but is on mine, is the Adams Memorial in Rock Creek Cemetery. Designed by Augustus Saint-Gaudens, his name for the bronze figure is The Mystery of the Hereafter and The Peace of God that Passeth Understanding, a granite memorial to Henry and Clover Adams which Mr. Adams commissioned upon the untimely passing of his wife Clover. Henry Adams was an author, historian, and quite interesting person - the great-grandson and grandson of American presidents, but that was only his beginnings. If you've never read any of Henry Adams' work, you should. He, along with Salem Indiana native John Hay, a United States Secretary of State about whom I have written in the past, eventually built their homes, adjoining townhouses, at 16th and H streets NW, the present site of the very exclusive, expensive, and chic Hay-Adams Hotel, which is currently serving as the temporary home to family of President-elect Barack Obama.

Additionally, I plan to visit the offices - new and bigger offices I'll add since his promotion to the Ways and Means Committee - of my congressman and friend John Yarmuth. Out of respect, I may even visit the office of Kentucky's Senior Senator Addison Mitchell McConnell, Jr., a native of Alabama, but as of this week, Kentucky's longest serving United States Senator, a feat I did not help him to accomplish, but one which nonetheless deserves acknowledgement. Senator McConnell is in the "Class 2" of senators, which from Kentucky include her first United States Senator, John Brown. From the 19th century his seat was held by, among others, Henry Clay and Richard Johnson. 20th century occupiers included Albert Benjamin "Happy" Chandler, John Sherman Cooper, and Alben W. Barkley. I do not suspect I will feel compelled to visit the office of Kentucky's other United States Senator.

There are also several events on my official schedule - a Kentucky Democratic Party reception on Sunday, several events at the Marriott Wardman Park Hotel on Monday, and a National Democratic Party meeting on Wednesday, which I may attend with our Kentucky Party Chair Jennifer Moore. One of my travelling companions, Jessie Phelps, is a graduate of Randolph Macon Womens College, a place we plan to visit on the trip back to Kentucky. Between Washington DC and Randolph Macon, about halfway, is Monticello, the Thomas Jefferson estate, as well as the University of Virginia, founded by Thomas Jefferson, who is also responsible, in two different ways, for the naming of my home county. The Virginia legislature proposed as one of the three new counties it created in 1780 the name Jefferson for its then-governor. Upon passage, the bill creating Jefferson County, Virginia (twelve years prior to Kentucky achieving statehood) was signed by Virginia's governor, Thomas Jefferson.

I could go on writing for hours, and may do so in the next few days, but it is time to get ready for church.

415. Do I really want to be in the middle of 4,000,000 people outside in January?

Me and three friends, two females and a male, are planning a road trip to Washington DC - in January - specifically on the 20th. All of us are political, all of us are politically engaged, and we all want to be a part of history, to use a well-used cliche.

So off we will leave on Sunday or Monday in a car. It's basically a ten hour drive from here along the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606 to there along the Left Bank of the Potomac River right at Milepost 96. Hopefully we won't encounter any snow along the way in West Virginia or the Marylanbd panhandle.

Once there, we'll make our way to our lodgings, which as of yet are not wholly determined, although we have a few good leads. What to do with the car will be a problem, as many roads in and out of the city will be closed off. The DC area is bracing for a four-million-person invasion, four times the amount of any previous inaugural - this in addition to the nearly 600,000 people who live in the District itself, many of whom will likely turn out in this historic event.

Now, more than a few people know that I tend to be claustrophobic, whether a room is big or small. At meetings and others places, I tend to stand in the back, close to an exit. At church, I sit two pews from the back on the left. The church has two doors back there, one in the middle and one on the left. Where it is I'll be standing amidst these 4,000,000 plus souls is something I haven't determined.

It might be on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, pretty far removed from where the 44th President of the United States of America will take the Oath of Office. Or, I might cross over to the eastern side of the Capitol, in the Capitol Hill section of town out toward Lincoln Park. Or maybe on top of one of the vaults in the Old Congressional Cemetery, over at 18th and E streets, SE, one of my favorite places and far removed from everything where I can imagine John Philip Sousa leading a march playing the Stars and Stripes Forever. Sousa is buried in the cemetery, as are some other interesting folks from American history, including Matthew Brady, J. Edgar Hoover, and Vice President Elbridge Gerry, who gave us the political word "gerrymander."

Wherever I am, it will be cold and I will be content that I did my part in helping to write another page in the annals of American history.

KY 248 East to KY 555 South - the Heartland Parkway

On several occasions in the past I've taken people (my mom, friends) on the evolving highway known as KY 248. I may have written of this before. KY 248 used to begin as a very narrow two-lane highway jutting to the north off US 62 just west of Anderson County's Western Elementary, a few miles east of the old community of Sparrow. From there it continued north in a zigzagging way past the New Liberty Baptist Church. As one proceded north, and then west toward Taylorsville, along the northern edge of Taylorsville Lake, the road widened first to a full-fledged two-lane road, then even wider, ultimately as a very wide four lane divided highway with wide shoulders, left turn lanes, and emergency lanes. The road joins KY 44 West and proceeds into Taylorsville at the Spencer County High School.

For several years, the State Transportation Department has been planning a fill-in road, filling in the gap just south of where KY 248 begins, down to where KY 555 ends, previously just north of the Martha Layne Collins Bluegrass Parkway. Over the past several years, I've watched the road develop off to the south edge of US 62 in the area sometimes called Love Ridge, near where the Nelson, Anderson, and Washington county lines meet. This morning, trekking out and about, I found that the new parkway is completed between the two points. South of US 62 it is known as KY 555, while north of US 62 it retains the KY 248 name.

This new road provides a second route from Louisville to Springfield, should anyone want to go. Previously, getting to Springfield (or further, say to Lebanon or Campbellsville and Green River Lake) from Louisville required first getting to Bardstown (probably taking I-65 to KY 245), then following US 150 over to Springfield. Now there is an alternate route through Kentucky's Heartland. This would be getting almost to Taylorsville first (probably along KY 155), then turning east on KY 248. Having made the turn at the Spencer County High School, one could conceivably never make another turn on to another road and end up at Lake Cumberland State Park, by following KY 248 to KY 555, which then becomes KY 55, which after passing through Springfield, Lebanon, and Campbellsville, eventually makes it way to Jamestown - well, just west of Jamestown - at its intersection with US 127. I was so excited about the prospect of taking a different route to Cumberland Lake, that I mentioned all of this to my mother while I was there to cut grass today.

Concerned, she asked me if I had been to Jamestown this morning. Truthfully, I would have liked to have answered yes, but, again, truthfully, I could only claim to have gotten as far from Louisville as the Willisburg exit of the BG Parkway (at KY 555) before turning back.

But the trip wasn't for naught. I stopped by several cemeteries on today's trip - all of which I had visited before. I started in Jefferson County at Rest Haven where I visited the burial site of Dottie Priddy who passed away a few weeks ago. While there, I also visited my friend Rob's grave. From there they were the Little Union Cemetery on Little Union Road in Spencer County, Saint Michael's Church cemetery straddling the Spencer-Nelson county line on KY 48, the Fairfield Cemetery further along on the same road, the Maple Grove - Bloomfield Cemetery just north of Bloomfield on KY 55, where Clark Hockensmith, who was one of Quantrell's Raiders during the Civil War, is supposed to have been buried after being killed over in Wakefield (I've never found Clark's grave, but I do continue to look), and the old Bethlehem Church cemetery within the confines of the Taylorsville Lake Wildlife Management Area on Old Briar Ridge Road in Spencer County. Lots of similar family names in all of these, but no one in my family tree that I recognized. But, I always look, and sometimes I find.

It was a nice Sunday drive. Given that, I do not have a report of today's lectionary readings. Today's readings were names and dates, births and deaths.

Have a good week.

329. Playing Hookie, An Impromptu Family Reunion, and other comments

Today was a beautiful, if somewhat breezy, day - a good day to play hookie (hooky?) from the office, and that is what I did. I had already planned to attend to some family business in Frankfort, so off I went to Kentucky's capital along I-64, where the widening project is coming along between the Weigh Stations and Waddy (or Waddy-Peytona for those of you who aren't aware these are two different places, the former an actual village a little south of I-64, the latter an intersection where the Elmburg Pike crosses the Old Louisville Road near Shelby County's recently built Heritage Elementary School. Eventually the interstate is to be widened all the way from Louisville to Frankfort. Eventually, given the state of affairs of the affairs of the state, may be a long wait, but the first steps have been taken.

After disposing of the family business, I made my way over to the Kentucky Democratic Headquarters, to see someone I had previously emailed about viewing some paperwork therein. Due to some scheduling conflicts, that paperwork-viewing didn't happen. There is some grand planning taking place at Headquarters as Friday, May 9th (pointed out to me in a phone call as being a mere 48 hours away) is the date scheduled for a big Kentucky Democratic Party fundraiser in Louisville, to be held downtown at the Convention Center. As an aside, I am old enough to remember when saying the words "the Convention Center" referred to a building on Muhammad Ali Boulevard between Armory Place and Sixth Street, back when Muhammad Ali Boulevard was still called Walnut Street. But, I am not of an age to remember the building alongside Armory Place actually being called The Armory, which for years it was. That building is now called The Gardens. The fundraiser is being held a few blocks to the northeast at 4th and Market streets. But, I digress.

While at HQ for my non-paper reviewing meeting, I struck up a conversation with the two women volunteering at the front desk, Hazel and another one whose name I have since forgotten. I didn't mention to them the aforementioned paper-viewing plans, but rather paid for two tickets to the aforementioned fundraiser scheduled this Friday in the aforementioned Convention Center. As I understand it, there are levels of financial participation, from the $10,000.00 level on down to the $50.00 level, the level upon which I will be participating. The higher the ticket value you purchase, the closer you will be to two bottles of wine, some dessert, Jerry Lundergan, Jon Hurst, and the Guest of Honor, New York Senator Hillary Clinton. At the $50.00 level, my seats may well be out in the middle of the Clark Memorial Bridge a few blocks away, but, as is sometimes lamented in these situations, it is for a good cause.

Before I left HQ, I also filled out one of those "I wanna be a delegate to Denver" forms, telling the two volunteer ladies I didn't really want to go, I just wanted to say I wanted to go. One of them, the one whose name escapes me, asked about the weather on my drive up which led to a conversation about how it is always windy at Democratic Headquarters, something I know to be true based on 35 years of visits. I remarked to her that across the street the Sunset Memorial Cemetery was also similarly typically windy. I mentioned my grandmother being buried there, and she assented in my suggestion that the cemetery was indeed a blustery place.

Upon leaving Headquarters, without viewing any papers or speaking to anyone in charge other than the two ladies, I made my way over to the cemetery. Buried therein are my grandparents, their parents, several of their brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins, and in-laws, all generally in the same area. While I was visiting the graves, first one car, then another pulled up behind mine and I noticed they were noticing me, and noticing in particular that I was standing generally in the same area they would be standing if they had beaten me to the area. Eventually emerging from the first car were my grandmother's first cousin, Mary Margaret Collins Jackson, her daughter Nancy who lives in Lexington, her granddaughter-in-law who is another woman whose name I didn't catch, and that young woman's child, Dominic Filipini, a resident with his parents and grandparents of Florida. Emerging from the second car was Mary Margaret's husband Jim, residents of Versailles.

Mary Margaret's father, Earl Louis Collins, and my great grandmother, Rachel Scott Brawner, were half-brother and sister, although we generally disregard that half business in our family. In common lingo then, me and Dominic Filipini, the young boy from Florida, are sixth cousins. A true genealogist would correct me on this pointing out that he is my third cousin thrice removed and I am his fourth cousin twice removed. In any event, including the deceased upon whose graves we were standing, there were five generations of us there, all descendants of Annie Choate Brawner Collins, who is herself buried downtown in the Frankfort Cemetery.

Eventually we all hugged and departed the confines of the decedents of our family. From there I made my way downtown, passing the Obama for President Frankfort HQ recently opened on Main Street, opening in the building next door to where my great-great grandmother Annie Choate Brawner Collins raised all those children. I met with my friend Aaron Horner for a cup of coffee at the Kentucky Coffeetree Coffeehouse, having of cup of the Peru blend brewed by Erec the barista. We chatted on the sidewalk about horseracing, roadtrips, Pat Riley (yes, THE Pat Riley), schedules, and a little politics. Former State Senator Lindy Casebier stopped by for moment and chatted as well, telling us of his connection with THE Pat Riley. One of Frankfort's street characters, a man named Tom, stopped to tell us he had enjoyed three coney-island dogs from the vendor on Saint Clair Street and was on his fifth cup of coffee from the coffeeshop, although his cup is one which, given the generosity of the coffeeshop, never runs dry. A Nicholasville-based R J Corman train came through from the west (which would mean it had probably passed through Waddy) to the east (toward Lexington) down the center of Broadway, headed for the pre-Civil War tunnel which Aaron suggested he might want to explore sometime. It was dug through in 1849 and is seen in the image below. I remember going through it several times as a teenager, which was a long time ago.

Finally, I departed my favorite capital city and made my way back home along the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606, where the beautiful but breezy day, has given way to some slight rain showers and an overcast sky.

Happy Trails.

At My Uncle Bob's Wake - and other musings

There were probably 250 people present at one point or another. Conversations all tended to go something like "I haven't seen you since Uncle Henry died," [that was 1995], or "Whose child is that?" sometimes followed by "So that Elizabeth's, (pause) and Elizabeth is whose daughter?"

The "Class of 1960" from my family, those of us born in that final year of the Esienhower administration, were all there but one. Me, Debbie Brown Solmonson, Steve Collins, Bobby Lewis III (named for the deceased, who never married or had children), and Melanie Baker. Missing from our group was Robert McGohon.

At one point, one of the funeral directors had a call for a "Jim Lewis," to which the answer was "Which one?" as there were three in the room at the time. Another common name in the family is Robert (the name of the father of the deceased, my great-grandfather) and its spinoffs, Rob, Bob, Bobby, and Bobbie (for a female), all of whom were present (including the deceased). I met one of my cousins for the third time last night, yet another Bob Lewis, who was born when his father and I were both LRC employees back in 1980. I had met him the second time at Uncle Henry's funeral. After a short discussion last night, we determined we worked in the the same building here along the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606, he for the County Clerk, me for the County Attorney. Not only is Louisville just a very big town, but Kentucky remains a small state where lots of folks are related and interrelated, some unbeknownst to each other.

The funeral was held this morning in the rain, with Uncle Bob being laid to rest a few lots above my grandmother, a few lots over from his parents, and amongst the thirty or so relatives of mine buried there in the Sunset Memorial Gardens in Woodford County.

*****

I realize that as a "political" blog I should say something here about the State of the Union address delivered last night by the Commander-In-Chief of the Republic, but there wasn't much to the speech. Lameduck-ness must have already settled in. I was surprised he didn't call for additional tax cuts, but rather only to keep the ones he previously passed. I was happy with his comments on immigration, although he and I seem to be the only two people who seem to agree (and then only somewhat) on this great matter. He admitted the federal government is aiding and abetting faith-based groups with grant money for their social programs, something I find appalling and more properly the role of the federal government. He acknowledged the economy sucks and he offered no real solution, only a short-term fixit - his words, not mine, and one which will deepen the government's already Grand Canyon-like debt. Ironically, he called for an end to earmarks, despite having signed every earmark-earmarked bill the previous Republican-led congress had sent him. Suddenly, earmarks are bad. Maybe they are.

He did seem to enjoy his last State of the Union speech. I enjoyed it knowing he will be giving no more. Redemption draweth nigh.

233. December First Trip

December snuck in yesterday amid overcast skies and moderate temperatures; moderate at least for December. The liturgical season of Advent arrived today amid rain and some storms, with the moderate temperatures continuing.

Yesterday, I had to make a trip to Frankfort, so I went out of my way to do some travelling. Down to Bardstown and over to the Martha Layne Collins Bluegrass Parkway which I took as far as the US 127 exit, where I ramped off to the south towards Harrodsburg. Ahead of Harrodsburg proper, I followed the By-Pass around the east side of town and made a left, turning east on US 68, the old Stage Coach/US Mail route Old Hickory took when he made his way from Nashville to Washington DC to become the Republic's Seventh Commander-In-Chief.

Along that route a few miles east of Harrodsburg is the Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill. I stopped in and did some Christmas shopping, something I have rarely ever even begun until about the 21st of December. But they were having a 10% off sale and I am drawn to such events. From there, I departed US 68 after crossing the Kentucky River from Mercer County over into Jessamine County along the famed Kentucky River Palisades, a series of gorges along the waterway with 400 feet deep canyons of exposed layers of limestone. The palisades are a geologic wonder and are best viewed not from my vantage point in a car, but rather in a boat, which I did many years ago when I was younger and had hair. But, I digress.

In Jessamine County, at KY 169, I turned north roaming through the little village of Keene. The offset intersection of KY 169 with KY 1267 which makes up the little burg is dominated by the once-famous Keene Springs Inn, sometimes called the Keene Tavern. The Keene Springs Inn is a Greek Revival-style frame building constructed in the early 1800s, erected by Mason Singleton, of the Singleton family originally from Orange County, Virginia. Singleton died in 1833. White sulphur water was discovered circa 1848; its medicinal qualities made the hotel and adjoining tavern a popular summer resort of 1840s and 1850s. Captain G. L. Postlethwait was its most noted host. I took the KY 169 route based on memories from my teenage years visiting my cousin Steve Collins, whose mother would later become Kentucky's first and last (so far) woman governor. They lived along Clear Creek Pike and KY 169 and one of my memories of visiting their home was being served iced tea made with sulphur water, which to say the least, is not pleasant at all. This was the home the Collins lived in until her election as Lieutenant Governor in 1979.

Ky 169 leads to KY 33, which is South Main Street in Versailles, the county seat of Woodford County. I was anticipating stopping at a little corner market in Versailles which for years has boasted an Ale-8 vending machine, 12 ounces for 50 cents or 75 cents of the Kentucky based soda in little green bottles. The vending machine has stood in a small nook of that building for as long as I can remember. It was there last year when I attended the funeral services for my aunt Margaret Collins, the former governor's mother-in-law. This I know since I stopped and bought a bottle. But, upon arriving in downtown Versailles, the little green bottle vendor was gone. Utter dismay.

I continued through Versailles along North Main, then Frankfort Street, ultimately passing out onto US 60 West, the four-lane highway former governor Happy Chandler built between Frankfort and his home in Versailles. Just outside of Frankfort is the Sunset Memorial Gardens, where more than a few of the people I've written about herein have been interred, the first being my great-grandmother Rachel Lewis, who died in 1967. The most recent funerals were both in 2006, Aunt Margaret Collins, actually my great-grandmother's sister-in-law and Aunt Virginia Lewis, my grandmother's sister-in-law.

Eventually I made my way to the appointed location and meeting, an assembly in Frankfort at the Wendell H. Ford State Democratic Headquarters of the Kentucky Democratic Party State Central Executive Committee. We made history yesterday, installing Jennifer Moore as the youngest State Party Chair anywhere in the Republic. Woo-hoo!

Only 19 days left til I start in earnest my Christmas shopping.

230. The Day Before Thanksgiving Trip - and then a Meal

Riding the TARC into town this morning, I noticed two high-school aged guys with their skateboards. They exitted the big white limousine at Clay and Jefferson, no doubt to make their way over to the skatepark at Clay and Washington, the one the Two Bridges folks want to run a ramp over the top of in their quest to expand Spahetti Junction in more than just an intersection.

The presence of their skateboards and not their usual backpacks reminded me school is out today in anticipation of lots of people being absent anyway as they make their way to "somewhere" to celebrate Thanksgiving, which is tomorrow. When I was in school, today was not a holiday, but it was a day which my grandparents typically came and got us right after lunch. Many, if not most, of my Thanksgivings as a child were spent at the home of my Aunt Franie in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Her grandson Scott still lives in the home perched at the crest of the hill on Mount Vernon Avenue in North Chattanooga. Aunt Franie, formally Frances Graham Collins Marlowe (and later Arledge) was actually my grandmother's aunt, the younger half-sister of my great grandmother Rachel Scott Lewis, mentioned in one of the very early entries of this blog.

We went to Chattanooga twice a year, but the trip for Thanksgiving was always a big thing. We would load up into either my grandfather's truck (yes, two kids and two adults in a pickup cab), or if my mother or others were going, we'd take my grandmother's car, for many years a Chevrolet Impala station wagon. And off we'd head down I-65, which in the early years ended at the Tennessee line, where we transferred over to US 31W on which we continued to Nashville. Often, we'd stop and purchase fireworks, which were (and are) illegal in Kentucky, but were readily available upon entering Robertson and Sumner County in Tennessee. I list both counties because as you are driving south on 31W, Robertson lays to the west while Sumner is to the east.

We'd make a pit stop in Nashville at the home of my grandfather's younger sister, Katherine Lorraine McKnight, known in Nashville as "Kay" but to her kinfolk back in Kentucky as Lorraine. She and her husband, my uncle Morton, had three children, my cousins David, Karl, and Carolyn, the last of whom has the distinction of being born on Leap Year Day. She and I were born in the same year, but I am much older than her based on the number of birthdays she has celebrated.

But our stops in Nashville were only brief, and we'd head southwest on US 41 toward Murfreesboro and Monteagle. By the time I was old enough to drive, Tennessee had finished I-65 into the state, as well as I-24 which crossed the state diagonally from northwest to southeast, and was the route we took to Chattanooga. Crossing the hill at Monteagle in fog was an exciting and dangerous feat. The interstate splits to go around the mountain with lanes in opposing directions on each side. The ascent down the hill and across the Duck River eventually takes you into the Upper Tennessee River Valley which eventually takes one to Chattanooga. Arrival in Chattanooga is imminent when one passes the Nickajack Dam on the river, just to the west of Chattanooga, where I-24 makes it way around the northern base of a hill called Lookout Mountain, made famous in the Civil War for a Battle Above the Clouds. I always remember as you approached the hill the crude makings of a water supply system, which caught free-flowing water from a spring, funnelled into simple guttering, which was then extended for nearly a 1/4 mile around to a homestead on the western face of the hill. I haven't driven that course of the road since 1985 so I do not know if the makeshift water system is still there. It did, however, serve as a microcosm of the Tennessee River which winds below, which is dammed at nine different places along its route from the northeastern corner of the state, southwest into Alabama, then north back through the state and crossing over into Kentucky where it empties out into the Ohio River at Paducah. But, I digress.

Once into Chattanooga proper, we exitted onto a highway which was once called I-124, but is now numbered as US 27. We crossed over the Tennessee River and ramped onto Manufacturer's Road, which took us to North Market Street, also called Dallas Road. Dallas Road to the west and Hixson Pike to the north and east wrapped around the North Chattanooga Hill, at the top of which was Aunt Franie's little 1000 square foot (plus a basement) Tudor house, surrounded by many, many more little frame homes of a similar nature. By this time, nightfall had arrived. The trip of just over 300 miles from Louisville to Chattanooga at the time took all afternoon and into the evening, about 6 hours. We made our beds and prepared for tomorrow's big meal. And it was.

Thankgiving Dinner at Aunt Franie's, served about 3:00 pm, offered two main courses - the traditional Turkey or the much less traditional Chop Suey, which was a tradition at her house, although I never knew why. She also always had Oyster Dressing, granting me a love for oysters which remains to this day. All the trimmings and fixings were always there as well, topped off with home made frozen and boiled custard, both of which I endulged in to great excess. I remain a fan of boiled custard, and a quart carton of it can be found as we speak in my refrigerator.

After an evening of gouging on food, we children were put to bed and the adults often left to go to the Thanksgiving Night Dance at the local VFW Hall. VFW Halls around the country provided my grandfather and his war buddies with food, friends, and often dancing no matter where one found themselves. Aunt Franie's husband, Meredith J. Marlowe, liek my grandfather, was a WW2 veteran.

It's been 25 years or more since we made the last of those excursions for Thanksgiving. Aunt Franie and Uncle Marlowe are no longer among the living, each buried (as is her second husband Tom Arledge) in the Chattanooga National Cemetery located right in town. My grandparents too are long since gone. And as I said, we haven't made the trip since the late 1970s or early 1980s. Aunt Franie's daughter, Diane, still lives in town, as well as one her children, son Scott, who to my knowledge resides in Aunt Franie's old house on the hill on Mount Vernon Avenue in North Chattanooga, the one place I always think of on Thanksgiving Day.

*****

There will be light posting for the next few days. Happy Thanksgiving to one and all. Be Thankful - it is pretty easy, even if living is sometimes difficult. Thankful for the day and the opportunities of all the tomorrows to come. And thankful for the past and all the memories of life.