Since I have not been feeling the best, my daughter gave me the best medicine; time. When she and I are together, I can look past the aches and concentrate on her laughter and beauty. I am truly a blessed lady to have three awesome kids. I am also a lucky lady as my daughter has given me permission to use her photos in my post.
Yesterday she took me to a little town called Elkton here in Kentucky. We ate at a quaint little restaurant that looked like total fifties. Elvis and coca-cola adorned the walls. Al sure would have enjoyed this visit.
After that she drove me to Fairview Kentucky because she knows how much I love history and my camera. Between her and I clicking on the camera button, we had many great photos.
Have you ever visited the Memorial site? Here is some history of it and then I follow with my photos she and I took. Of course the beautiful lady with the gorgeous smile, is my daughter.
Jefferson Davis was the first-and-only President of the Confederacy, leader of the rebellious South that broke away in 1861 and sparked the Civil War. He never really wanted the job (You can see it in his statues, which always make him look grim), the South lost, and the North viewed him as a traitor — yet his sleepy birthplace is marked by the second tallest obelisk in the world.
Davis guards the gated entrance to his monument. The Angel of Peace protects his back.
Some people are just luckier after they’re dead than when they were alive.
Approaching the Jefferson Davis Birthplace Monument, driving down a quiet two-lane road through farm country, it’s hard not to be impressed by its hugeness. You can see it for miles; it’s 351 feet high. Until the 1970s it was the tallest thing in all of Kentucky (It’s still by far the tallest thing in Fairview). Pam Terry, who was running the elevator on the day that we visited, said that the Davis Monument was built to mimic the Washington Monument in Washington, DC, because Washington, like Davis, was also a first President.
But is it appropriate? “He wouldn’t have wanted this,” said Ron Sydnor, the Birthplace manager and resident Jeff Davis authority. “He was humble. He would have told them no.” Davis, however, had no say in the matter; he had been dead for decades by the time his boosters opened the Monument on June 7, 1924. The South had turned him from a sad loser into a noble statesman worthy of a gargantuan tribute. His actual birthplace, a long-gone log cabin, stood in a spot currently occupied by Fairview’s post office.