JOHN ADAMS AND THOMAS JEFFERSON DIE ON THE SAME DAY, JULY 4, 1826.

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Three Presidents Die on July 4th: Just a Coincidence? | Constitution Center

But back in 1826, Daniel Webster’s eulogy for Adams and Jefferson spoke to a point that many people believed: that something other than coincidence was involved.

“The concurrence of their death on the anniversary of Independence has naturally awakened stronger emotions,” Webster said. “It cannot but seem striking and extraordinary, that these two should live to see the fiftieth year from the date of that act, that they should complete that year, and that then, on the day which had fast linked forever their own fame with their country's glory, the heavens should open to receive them both at once.”

“As their lives themselves were the gifts of Providence, who is not willing to recognize in their happy termination, as well as in their long continuance, proofs that our country and its benefactors are objects of His care?”

The Falls of t the Warrior River. About two miles, by the water line, above the city of Tuscaloosa, a ledge of nearly perpendicular rocks, extends across the entire channel of the Warrior river, abutting on its banks on either side. At low water stages of the river, during the summer months, this ledge rises ser eral feet above the surface of the waters below it, and forms an impassible barrier to navigation, which is still further obstructed by the shoals and rocks that swarm in the basin of the river, for more than a hundred miles above the ledge, which consequently forms the limit. to* which the stream navigable from below. Over this ledge, the entire volume of the waters of the river pours in an unceasing flow, produc ing, by their plunge, a loud and continuous sound,' which can be heard to the diatauce of several miles, in all directions.

This water-tull is known as the "Warrior-Fulls," forms a notable feature in the topography of the river, and in our suburban land scape. It must have been very far back in the unchronicled centuries of the past, when these Falls first lifted their voice of waters upou the air.Indeed, for aught that either geology or history has to say to the contrary, they may be coneval in ago with the river itself, and their not unmusical sound may have formed the jubilaut shout that heralded the first gliding of its waters from their mountnin sources downward to the Gulf. At all events, we may safely assume that the "Warrior Falls" are of very aucient origin. For couturies before Columbus discovered America, and long before the Red Man became a dweller in the laud, their solemn monotone broke the silence of the primeval woods which overshadow them, oven yet. Then the wild bird and the untamed denizens of tho forcat alono knew of their existence.The Indian, doubtless, ofteu paused, as he passed near them in the hunt for game, or on the firce ruid ot sav.

age war, to listen to their solemn roar, and deemed it, perhaps, the voice of the "Great Spirit," whom ho worshiped aud fearod, walking in the solitude of the woods. The bold DeSoto and his beardod marauders heard their sound, and wondered as thoy passed by and on, in their phantom quest for gold. Next and last, came the pioneers, and then the later and present settlers of this portion of the State, iu whose ears the *Falls"' ring out their watery chimes, as if a bell call to cuterpriso in utilizing their waste powers for manufactaring purposes. Tho "Falls" can be distinctly heard in nearly every of our cityTheir ceaseless mouotoue, not unlike tho| moan of pines shaken by the winds, mingles with the busy hum of life on our streets by day, and floats through them by night like au echo from the past, and a roice of the ever on going present, blended in one stream of sound, * 

  SIDEWALK STORY 2

Buck allowed his heart to navigate his path home and as he stepped along the sidewalk toward his destination, he passed houses that sheltered the men and women who tried to preserve the Union as well as the houses of the men and women who fought to shatter it. Over 50 of these antebellum structures still stand in Old Town Tustenuggee beside every sidewalk Buck traveled, each one a testament to the toil of the enslaved men who produced the wood and bricks from which they were constructed and who provided the labor that erected each one. Over the years, some of these old mansions have been broken up into apartments and as Buck passed one of these ancient buildings where he'd lived as a college student when he was going to Wekiwa State, he studied the Greek Revival exterior of the old building and contemplated his first lessons in love and romance which he learned back in 1969 in an upstairs bedroom of that old columned mansion.

"I have every reason in the world to simply find joy in existence," Buck reasoned, "but that crying fit at Jake's house over Grandma showing up on a Youtube clip let me know tonight I've got something hidden inside that's bothering me and I don't even know what the hell it is. Everybody has bad experiences. Maybe I keep dwelling on what was so good about them and forgetting about what was so bad. Anyway, before I pair up again, I need to work on my own life."

Buck pulled a small flask out of his pocket and took a sip of his tonic. There was nothing herbal or medicinal about Buck's tonic. It was simply a few pieces of cinnamon, lemon and wintergreen candy dissolved in cheap vodka but a single sip helped Buck maintain a proper buzz as he spent another evening exploring old Tustenuggee's sidewalks.

"It kind of feels like now is the time to walk down to the bar & check on the incoming coeds from the Wekiwa State Class of 2030 who hit town this week ready to test out their fake IDs and are arriving on the Strip right about now." Buck mused,"I bet there's some gals down there with play pretties so nice they'll bust the top off my eye candy gauge! Hey, let's celebrate the greatest of all time terrific T-town Tuesday, 'till Tuesday's gone! Like Grandma always said, 'Don't take things so seriously, Buck. It'll happen when it needs to happen. Be happy with what you got and work hard to make things better.'

"Maybe I might learn some things about myself on my little hike tonight and these days my old age has been telling me I've been hanging out in the bars long enough. I'm too young to be this damn old! Those damn Yankees on the island lied to me! They told me old age didn't start 'till 80 and it hit me at 75! I feel like I've been cheated out of five years! I guess my consolation is  I've learned that cranberry lemonade juice is the best thing to drink with your Miralax and I keep a mason jar full of water next to my Efferdent container and I've gotten to be an expert at sticking urine guards inside my underwear."

After tonight's catharsis, maybe I don't need the pandemonium of a Tuskenuggee barroom. Maybe now is the time to seek the sanctuary of  the serene Wekiwahatchee riverbank and its right down the street"

Buck's thoughts of the river reminded him of a little poem he wrote almost thirty years ago.

"Standing on an old street corner laid out in 1823,

Shaded by tall water oaks all around.

That's why I love T-town.

Sitting on a sandy bank with my feet in a lazy river

Watching the sun go down.

That's why I love T-town."

Buck asked himself, "Why would I want to live anywhere else?"

Buck expressed his appreciation out loud, "Crepe myrtles in the summertime and camellias in the wintertime courtesy of those wonderful old women decades ago who dedicated their lives to this town's neighborhood garden clubs. Old ladies, your long ago effort along these sidewalks was not in vain! Your lives continue to amaze and satisfy this aging son of the Southland."

Buck stopped and stood on the corner of East Margin Street and Adams Avenue while slowly turning himself around and concentrating upon everything within his field of vision. He counted fourteen beautifully shaped crepe myrtles, each one so covered in pink or red blossoms that almost none of the green foliage underneath was visible. Looking down, the streetlight now revealed the sidewalk below Jake's feet covered with the coral red blossoms from Tustenuggee's splendid crepe myrtle trees and this vision produced a flicker of wonder which captured Buck's vivid imagination and the exquisite beauty of his floral landscape seemed to transport him to a time when East Margin Street had no pavement and modern marvels like automobiles, electric streetlights and flush toilets didn't exist.

Buck recalled the lines of that poem he wrote decades earlier, "Standing on an old streetcorner laid out in 1823" 

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 SIDEWALK STORY 2

Buck allowed his heart to navigate his path home and as he stepped along the sidewalk toward his destination, he passed houses that sheltered the men and women who tried to preserve the Union as well as the houses of the men and women who fought to shatter it. Over 50 of these antebellum structures still stand in Old Town Tustenuggee beside every sidewalk that Buck traveled, each one a testament to the toil of the enslaved men who produced the wood and bricks from which they are constructed and who provided the labor that erected each one. Over the years, some of these old mansions have been broken up into apartments and as Buck passed one of these ancient buildings where he'd lived as a college student when he was going to Wekiwa State, he studied the Greek Revival exterior of the old building and contemplated his first lessons in love and romance which he learned back in 1969 in an upstairs bedroom of that old columned mansion.

"I have every reason in the world to simply find joy in existence," Buck reasoned, "but that crying fit at Jake's house over Grandma showing up on a Youtube clip let me know tonight I've got something hidden inside that's bothering me and I don't even know what it is. Everybody has bad experiences. Maybe I keep dwelling on what was so good about them and forgetting about what was so bad. Anyway, before I pair up again, I need to work on my own life."

Buck pulled a small flask out of his pocket and took a sip of his tonic. There was nothing herbal or medicinal about Buck's tonic. It was simply a few pieces of cinnamon, lemon and wintergreen candy dissolved in cheap vodka but a single sip helped Buck maintain a proper buzz as he spent another evening exploring old Tustenuggee's sidewalks.

"It kind of feels like now is the time to walk down to the bar & check on the incoming coeds from the Wekiwa State Class of 2030 who hit town this week ready to test out their fake IDs and are arriving on the Strip right about now." Buck mused,"I bet there's some gals down there with play pretties so nice they'll bust the top off my eye candy gauge! Hey, let's celebrate the greatest of all time terrific T-town Tuesday, 'till Tuesday's gone! Like Grandma always said, 'Don't take things so seriously, Buck. It'll happen when it needs to happen. Be happy with what you got and work hard to make things better.'

"Maybe I might learn some things about myself on my little hike tonight and these days my old age has been telling me I've been hanging out in the bars long enough. After tonight's catharsis, maybe I don't need the pandemonium of a Tuskenuggee barroom. Maybe now is the time to seek the sanctuary of  the serene Wekiwahatchee riverbank and its right down the street"

Buck's thoughts of the river reminded him of a little poem he wrote almost thirty years ago.

"Standing on an old street corner laid out in 1823,

Shaded by tall water oaks all around.

That's why I love T-town.

Sitting on a sandy bank with my feet in a lazy river

Watching the sun go down.

That's why I love T-town."

Buck asked himself, "Why would I want to live anywhere else?"

Buck expressed his appreciation out loud, "Crepe myrtles in the summertime and camellias in the wintertime courtesy of those wonderful old women decades ago who dedicated their lives to this town's neighborhood garden clubs. Old ladies, your long ago effort along these sidewalks was not in vain! Your lives continue to amaze and satisfy this aging son of the Southland."

Buck stopped and stood on the corner of East Margin Street and Adams Avenue while slowly turning himself around and concentrating upon everything within his field of vision. He counted fourteen beautifully shaped crepe myrtles, each one so covered in pink or red blossoms that almost none of the green foliage underneath was visible. Looking down, the streetlight now revealed the sidewalk below Jake's feet covered with the coral red blossoms from Tustenuggee's splendid crepe myrtle trees and this vision produced a flicker of wonder which captured Buck's vivid imagination and the exquisite beauty of his floral landscape seemed to transport him to a time when East Margin Street had no pavement and modern marvels didn't exist.

 FIRST TIME PUTTING THE CAMERA ON THE RIVERBANK-3 KIT FOXES IN ONE FRAME!

 SIDEWALK STORY 2

Buck allowed his heart to navigate his path home and as he stepped along the sidewalk toward his destination, he passed houses that sheltered the men and women who tried to preserve the Union as well as the houses of the men and women who fought to shatter it. Over 50 of these antebellum structures still stand in Old Town Tustenuggee beside every sidewalk that Buck traveled, each one a testament to the toil of the enslaved men who produced the wood and bricks from which they are constructed and who provided the labor that erected each one. Over the years, some of these old mansions have been broken up into apartments and as Buck passed one of these ancient buildings where he'd lived as a college student when he was going to Wekiwa State, he studied the Greek Revival exterior of the old building and contemplated his first lessons in love and romance which he learned back in 1969 in an upstairs bedroom of that old columned mansion.

"I have every reason in the world to simply find joy in existence," Buck reasoned, "but that crying fit at Jake's house over Grandma showing up on a Youtube clip let me know tonight I've got something hidden inside that's bothering me and I don't even know what it is. Everybody has bad experiences. Maybe I keep dwelling on what was so good about them and forgetting about what was so bad. Anyway, before I pair up again, I need to work on my own life."

Buck pulled a small flask out of his pocket and took a sip of his tonic. There was nothing herbal or medicinal about Buck's tonic. It was simply a few pieces of cinnamon, lemon and wintergreen candy dissolved in cheap vodka but a single sip helped Buck maintain a proper buzz as he spent another evening exploring old Tustenuggee's sidewalks.

"It kind of feels like now is the time to walk down to the bar & check on the incoming coeds from the Wekiwa State Class of 2030 who hit town this week ready to test out their fake IDs and are arriving on the Strip right about now." Buck mused,"I bet there's some gals down there with play pretties so nice they'll bust the top off my eye candy gauge! Hey, let's celebrate the greatest of all time terrific T-town Tuesday, 'till Tuesday's gone! Like Grandma always said, 'Don't take things so seriously, Buck. It'll happen when it needs to happen. Be happy with what you got and work hard to make things better.'

"Maybe I might learn some things about myself on my little hike tonight and these days my old age has been telling me I've been hanging out in the bars long enough. After tonight's catharsis, maybe I don't need the pandemonium of a Tuskenuggee barroom. Maybe now is the time to seek the sanctuary of a serene riverbank."

Buck's thoughts of the river reminded him of a little poem he wrote almost thirty years ago.

"Standing on an old street corner laid out in 1823,

Shaded by tall water oaks all around.

That's why I love T-town.

Sitting on a sandy bank with my feet in a lazy river

Watching the sun go down.

That's why I love T-town."

Buck asked himself, "Why would I want to live anywhere else?"

The streetlight now revealed the sidewalk below Jake's striding feet covered with the coral red blossoms from Tustenuggee's splendid crepe myrtle trees and this vision produced a flicker of wonder which captured Buck's imagination.

Buck expressed his appreciation out loud, "Crepe myrtles in the summer and camellias in the winter courtesy of those wonderful old women decades ago who dedicated their lives to this town's neighborhood garden clubs. Old ladies, your long ago effort along these sidewalks was not in vain! Your lives continue to amaze and satisfy this aging son of the Southland."

 THIS IS WHAT GREETS ME WHEN I MAKE IT TO THE RIVERBANK EACH EVENING!

Nobody in this old world pays much attention to me, which is cool with me but I GOT SOME CRITTERS WHO DAMN SHO' DO! THEY GET IN FORMATION!