While addressing a note to a new acquaintance this week, I came across a street name in a town I’ve never visited in rural Kentucky. The street name is “Old Post Road.” Because I’m a strange kind of person, I spent a good chunk of time yesterday sitting and thinking about this street in this town I’ve never been to.
How did this street get its name? Have you ever thought about that? At one point in my life I resided on “Mountainview Drive” in a town nowhere near mountains, in fact, in the flattest state I’ve ever known.
See, I think about these things.
Old Post Road. I like this one. How far “back in the day” must you go until you hear someone say, when giving directions, “You know that old post out by the white house with the black shutters? Yeah? Turn left at that old post.” And at some point in the history of that town, it sticks. Turn at the old post. He lives on that road by the old post. One morning, a farmer goes out and there’s the new green sign put up to assist the USPS: Old Post Road.
How many generations? How many memories? Where exactly is the old post?