But perhaps the most thought-provoking items in the courthouse square are two stones that speak volumes.
Call me crazy, but unlike some people who steer clear of two-lane roads because they don’t want to get stuck behind poky farm equipment, I’m more terrified of the 10 ton, 18-wheelers barreling down on me at 70 miles per hour. My survival instincts override my need for speed nine times out of ten.
As we get closer to Lisbon, the road goes from not-so-bad, to so-so, to what-the-hell-are-you-doing-driving-on-this-thing. Before long, we drop down into a what the locals would call a “holler” and we seem to have arrived. But where, I’m not sure.
As an odd coincidence, while trying to break in to the library (so to speak), we ran into a retired priest we knew from days gone by. He gave us a brief but fascinating history of the city and an introduction to Glasgow’s role in the civil war.