Witt’s End

It's Not About Stories People Tell, It's About …

(This blog originally post September 2010)

This summer, Susan and I developed a taste for getting off the interstate highways during our travels. Among our discoveries have been Lucas, Kansas, the Grassroots Art Capital of Kansas, with its Garden of Eden and other assorted oddities. But that’s another story. Recently we found ourselves (geographically speaking) in Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. This (really) tiny town is best known for its name and not much else. Well, it is known for having elected a dog as it’s mayor—twice.

Rabbit Hash’s population varies from four to 40 people, depending on how the city boundaries are drawn. There are only a couple of antique stores and two, and I use the term loosely, cafes. The most intriguing store is the General Store (where one of the dog-mayors was banned from entering by the health department). Because of flooding (the town is literally on the banks of the Ohio River) there’s not an un-warped board in the building. I think there is probably one example of everything ever built in the world jammed into the building. There’s so much stuff, floor to ceiling, that there’s no room for anything. The nostalgic aroma of sandalwood incense permeates the place, a feature I’m sure, missing when the first settlers washed up on this south bank of the river in the mid-1700s.

What piqued my curiosity was that, without spending a penny, we had a fun hour or so poking around in history—indoors and out. While across the river, in Rising Sun, Indiana, was anchored the Grand Victoria riverboat casino. I wondered if the folks on the boat were looking across the river and enjoying their experience as much as we.

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