Monday, 23 October 2017
Traffic got cloggy on the highway and we took to the city streets to work our way into and through Cincinnati. Somewhere along the way, we passed Noah’s Whiskey Beer. Pretty quiet there now, but perhaps three decades back, it had thick smoke and lots of laughter. I imagine.
Soon, we crossed the Ohio, and entered Kentucky. Most of the miles, I kept my feet elevated…less stress on my hips if both were blocking the…heh…air bag.
We also stretched our legs with frequent stops, including a rest area where the sun was out and the flags flapped in the breeze.
We also took evasive action and skirted Chattanooga, cutting through Dalton, passing by one of many statues of Confederate leaders that still stand in important locations in cities and towns, especially in the Deep South. This one honors General Joseph E. Johnston (1807–1891), and was placed in 1912 during a wave of dedication of similar statues. Reflecting on the current movement to remove such statues, I’d say that editing history is a tricky thing; also, to me, history is not an inherently kind storyteller, so any fair telling will hurt feelings, and reveal meanness and often worse.