I love traveling to exotic and exciting places, but I like to living in a comfortable, cozy place. Home to me is like the song that greets the Derby every spring. It's my old Kentucky home, and this month she's toutin' 217 years of independent living.
On June 1, 1792 the fifteenth United States state was born. Up until then we ran through a bit of an identity crisis trying to settle on a proper name. First we were Cane-tuck-ee, then Cantucky, then Kain-tuck-ee, then Kentuckee and finally Kentucky County, part of Virginia since the end of the Revolutionary War. Daniel Boone was one of the first settlers to get here way back when this part of the country was considered western territory. He's still here to this day, buried on a hillside overlooking the state capitol. Before Dan, the original keepers were the Native Americans; the Shawnees and Cherokees.
Mr. Washington was about half way through his first presidential term when mother Virginia allowed her chick to leave the nest. The nation was still saluting its first flag, but that changed when the fifteenth state got a star AND a stripe. Later on, someone got wise and convinced the flag rule makers that it would probably be a good idea to keep the stripes as originally was (thirteen) and reward each new state with just a star. So Kentucky lost its stripe on Old Glory. We were the last state to get one of our own, even if it was just for a while.
I live in a nifty little place. We don't make the big news a lot, and too much of the world thinks chicken buckets, fast horses and banjos are all we're about. But we've got over two hundred candles on our cake, so I'm thinking we have a few things to be proud of. And I'll be very happy to brag.
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