Newspaper Archive of
Bath County News - Outlook
Owingsville, Kentucky
July 2, 2015     Bath County News - Outlook
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July 2, 2015

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2 - July 02, 2015 Your Hometown Newspaper News Outlook ) Heaven Is A Lot Like By Charles Mattox INDEPENDENCE "Father (Michael Cas- sidy) was in seven close contact fights with the Indians and was in seven major battles with the Brit- ish. He was also in 22 skir- mishes with the British and 20 skirmishes with the Indians... Father was very fleet and could outrun al- most any young man until he was 65 years of age," Francis Cassidy, the sec- ond-born son of Michael Cassidy. From the Draper Manuscripts Volume 21 S page 184 We collectively cele- brate our nations' freedom this weekend though to be sure when the Declara- tion of Independence was formed and signed by the Founding Fathers in 1776 our nation was very far from being free fl'om the British yoke of oppression. It's worth noting, that two years after the signing of the Declaration of Inde- pendence, General George Washington celebrated the Fourth of July by insisting that his soldiers, who were with him at New Jersey, near New Brunswick, be issued a double ration of rum and celebrate by fir- ing the artillery. The war with Great Brit- ain lingered on in the east amid the 13 colonies un- til the siege of Yorktown ended with the British sur- render of Lord Cornwallis in October, 1781. For Kentuckians, the worst of the conflict was yet to be felt along the wild frontier. Many Kentucky fron- tiersmen were part of mili- tia units that fought British allied Native Americans throughout the Revolu- tionary War. Still others, like early Fleming County settler Michael Cassidy, fought the length of the war in the east, and then traveled to Kentucky fol- lowing the surrender of Cornwallis just in time for 1782, a year commonly known as the year of whis- pered sorrows along the Kentucky frontier, due to the grim circumstances and violent encounters settlers had with various clans of Native Americans. Cassidy fought in the east in such prominent battles as Mud Fort, Ger- m town, Brandywine, Monmouth and Yorktown. He spent the hard winter of 77-78 in Valley Forge under Washington. It is not known when Cassidy came to Kentucky, though it is known that he was a spy for Captain John Holder. It is also known that he participated in the ,I Battle of Upper Licks, or Holder's Defeat, as it has also been called, which happened on August 12, 1782 in what would be- come southern Fleming County. Several militia soldiers were killed during the battle and Captain John Fleming, the namesake of same county, was wound- ed through his hip and groin but was saved from death by a suicidal charge from Cassidy who rode his horse to where Fleming was being surrounded by warriors, jumped off his horse and threw Fleming astride his horse and then, while leading Fleming's horse, raced his own horse down Battle Run Branch to the Licking River and safety. The battle remains al- most unknown due to it be- ing overshadowed by the larger Battle of Blue Licks fought the next week and in which nearly 80 Ken- tucky militia soldiers were killed. While most consider the Battle of Blue Licks as the last Battle of the Revolu- tionary War, there was still open hostility among Ken- tucky militia forces and Native American tribes north of the Ohio River. That conflict would rage off and on until 1795 and would touch every single family along both sides of the Ohio River with tragic consequences. Editor, I understand the con- troversy surrounding the Confederate flag. To blacks it is divisive sym- bol. And it is. To most Southerners, it symbol- izes Southern pride and is part of their heritage; these things are also true. The flag in. Columbia will be removed as will all of the statues throughout the South depicting Confeder- ate soldiers. This is a slip- pery slope. Where will it stop? Will most of Mark Twain's works be banned from our public schools and public libraries be- cause he used the N word? When we start banning books, we are on a dan- gerous path. Maybe its time we stopped worrying about being politically cor- rect, and started using a little morecommon sense. William "Rocky" Rob- erts By Cecil Lawson Your visions will be- come clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. - Carl Jung, psychologist If you trust in Nature, in the small Things that hard- lY anyone sees and that a.n So suddenly become hug6, immeasurable; if you have this love for what is hum- ble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then every- thing will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more reconcil- ing, not in your conscious mind perhaps, which stays behind, astonished, but in your innermost aware- ness, awakeness, and knowledge. - Ranier Maria Rilke, Let- ters to a Young Poet There comes a time to turn off the social media and the TV, shu! d(,wn the computer, lock the office door, and just walk away. The cacophony of opin- ionating that has been un- leashed in the wake of last week's set of controversial Supreme Court decisions can get to be quite tire- some for someone who simply wants to report the news as he sees it, and en- joy the rest of his life. Whether it's news on a national scale, or that of the state, or even someone "telling it like it is" on the street corner, there comes a time when enough is enough. Again and again, with- out any obvious invitation on my part, I have two distinct but related sets of encounters. One involves people who claim to be "in the known" when it comes to state and local politics, who may or may not have connections but who speak in sound bites and innu- endo about the depths of what I report. It's like they are in competition with me, trying to outdo my rather modest output of reportage each week with truckloads of hearsay, ru- mor, and gossip. These sorts of people are never willing to go on record, never willing to fin- igh l].eir trains of thought, aev(,r willing to shine light HIDING PLACES into the darkness of ig- norance. It is enough for them to let me know that they know, and gloat in their miserliness. The second encounter is the often unwelcome gift of opinions on the issues of the day. These people often mistakenly assume that, because I report on something, that I must "support" it or be "against" it. I like to hear what peo- ple think about things, but for some, there is a near obsessive need to try and feel out where I stand on the things that I report. And in lieu of me com- ing out and directly shar- ing my opinion, they wind up making often incorrect assumptions about what I really think and believe. If you want to know my opinion on most things, here it is: the world around us is a very com- plicated place, made up of many different people and institutions, working both together and against one another, and there is no neat way to sum it all up. You can't put things in nice, tiny, neat boxes and package them and make them pretty. Things are very, very rarely black and white, much as we would like to believe they are. Nothing is cut and dried. Try and tease more of my thoughts out of that. That's what my forty- four and a half years tells me. When I see people com- ing, with more partial "in- sider" knowledge, or with another opinion, I just want to walk away. I want to keep walking away from the rush and the noise to a nice quiet place, away from politics, away from people, away from the insistence and the nosiness. There is a secret place that I occasionally go to re- charge, not as much these days as I would like, which perhaps tells me that all the more I need to go. It is a vernal pond in the woods, a small, shallow, naturally occurring pond that might once have been created by a receding gla- cier during the ice age or maybe the remnant of a long-ago uprooted tree. This time of the year its surface is alive with water skates and mosquitoes and barely approachable for more than a few minutes until you are eaten alive, but the rest of the year it is a quiet, tranquil little place, equidistant from ev- erything else, both literally and figuratively. The water is probably not potable, but it is not ex- actly physical nourishment that I seek from it. The surface is a dark, milky mirror that reflects the surrounding trees and sky above. I sometimes have gazed upon that wa- ter like a scrying mirror, or a crystal ball, seeking a vision of the future, or the present, something that would set my whirling mind back on its proper course. Whatever its power, I rarely return to civilization disappointed. In most cas- es it is the journey there and back that provides the remedy I seek, my legs moving, blood pumping, eyes and mind taken away from the pettiness and silli- ness I regularly encounter each day. I get the chance to sit under a tree, before a quiet pond, in the depths of the woods, and let my shat- tered nerves heal back in order to face the world again. Maybe I'm too sensitive for my own good, or may- be I'm too empathetic and wind up taking on the pain and anger and confusion of others. Once I get my bearings, it is easy to see the excesses that drove me there. I leave those burdens to fade into the decaying leaves of the for- est floor. There are other places, too, also hidden, and just as good for hiding away from the juggernaut of the world for a while - another vernal pond in another patch of woods, a promon- tory over the Licking Riv- er, a hilltop surveying the surrounding countryside. They wait for me, hiding in plain sight. They just might start seeing more of me soon. When an apple a day isn't enough, call the Physician Referral Line Matching you to the right physician at the right time is our specialty. 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