God of Fire

Summer holds a few traditions for us. One of those is we go to Memphis. Then Memphis, in the form of Nana, comes to us. After all these years of visits, some how Nana (who I do claim as my mother) has never been up close and personal with our naked statue. That would be Vulcan. As landmarks go, you really can't go wrong with a naked statue.

We took Mom to visit Vulcan yesterday. At 56-feet tall, he is the world's largest cast-iron statue. Our god of fire was commissioned for the 1904 World's Fair to show off the magic happening then in Birmingham (the magic being we were really good at digging money, i.e. iron ore, out of the ground). Now after a long and colorful life, he towers over the city atop Red Mountain as we go about our daily errands and is what welcomes us home after any journey away. He moons the folks that have moved into the suburbs or as we call it, live "over the mountain."

A regional map at the base of Vulcan shows were the various iron ore producers were once located. Joseph's right foot is actually pointing to just about where Chris and I lived when we first moved to town. We had a lovely third floor loft with an awesome roof-top deck. Very pre-kids!