Kentucky
How one small KY town put aside its differences to celebrate America | Exclusive
4th of July celebrations in Louisville begin early at Locust Grove
To celebrate the nation’s 250th anniversary, organizers set out to acknowledge as many cultures and nationalities at Historic Locust Grove
CYNTHIANA, KY ― Pam Abnee voted for Donald Trump in 2024. Susan Bramel, her friend of 50 years, did not.
As the nation commemorated its 250th birthday this month amid a hyperpartisan election season, these politically opposed women sat next to each other on a bench outside the Harrison County Courthouse in Cynthiana on the Fourth of July.
Over the course of that week, the small town in Kentucky’s north central Bluegrass region hosted historical walking tours, a community mural painting, a day of prayer and a chance to sign a facsimile of the Declaration of Independence, culminating in the county’s bicentennial time capsule unearthing on that special Saturday.
Abnee and Bramel made sure to find each other outside the courthouse. And they avoided talking about their biggest source of disagreement.
“I’m putting politics aside and I’m looking at the history of 250 years and all that we have gained in that 250 years,” Bramel, 69, said. “We agree on that.”
“That’s one thing we have in common,” Abnee, 73, added. “The history.”
Like most of rural Kentucky, Harrison County skews heavily conservative. More than 69% of the county voted Republican in the past three presidential elections, according to the Kentucky Board of Elections. But like other small county seats across the commonwealth, Cynthiana attracts enough liberals to create a palpable level of friction.
Every Monday, the Cynthiana Peaceful Resistance, a small progressive grassroots movement, gathers on the courthouse lawn to protest the Trump administration’s stance on abortion, immigration, war, LGBTQ+ rights, or the latest dust-up emerging from Washington, D.C.
“We’re very conservative here, so I would like to think the next generation is moving more toward the progressive side,” said Beth Tucker, 60, a retired teacher who runs a farm and sells mules. “I think there’s some hope with them. I think they’re going in that direction. The LGBTQ+ kids are feeling more at home here.”
Jaylou Lewis sees the division while driving through the city delivering DoorDash orders and turning onto streets with Trump and anti-Trump lawn signs crowded on the same block.
“It’s to the point today where it’s not even Democrat or Republican,” he said. “It’s either Trump or anti-Trump.”
Yet Lewis, who moved to Cynthiana in January with his wife, Shay Lewis, and their 2-year-old son, Rayshawn, recalled with amazement how people all over the city came together recently when a woman’s house burned down. Her daughter posted about the destruction on Facebook and people sent donations.
“Even though people are politically divided, as human beings, they united,” the 34-year-old said.
That unity was seen on July 4 as folks like Tucker, Bramel and Abnee flocked to the courthouse lawn to witness the capsule unearthing and celebrate the nation’s historic anniversary.
Surrounded by the thick July heat, Mayor Isaac Dailey delivered a speech before the digging commenced. The 28-year-old, who was born and raised in Cynthiana, implored residents to reflect on what future generations will recall of the legacy being carved out today.
“I hope they remember that we loved our neighbors, that we cared for one another in times of hardship, that we celebrated together in times of joy and that, despite our differences, we never forgot that community is built one relationship at a time,” he said.
Cynthiana natives Mary Ann Lee and John Allen Lee believe residents’ willingness to have conversations, share meals and open doors for each other, regardless of their political affiliations, is what sets their town apart from the animosity of larger cities.
“You don’t see the cancel culture here,” John, 85, said underneath the shade of a maple tree. “Just because they don’t see politics the same as I do, that doesn’t mean he isn’t my friend or she isn’t my friend.”
On the courthouse lawn, city officials, children, parents and seniors pushed shovels into the ground and — with the help of a John Deere backhoe — dug out the 75-gallon, flag-adorned, steel container that was buried on America’s 200th birthday.
They placed it on the ground, cracked it open and gingerly combed through church letters, newspapers, photos, a buckeye ring, a pair of Dr. Scholl’s sandals and a Playboy magazine.
Later that evening, residents migrated to Flat Run Veterans Park for fireworks and a performance by Kentucky native Sam L. Smith, a country singer who competed on “American Idol.”
But not all residents of Cynthiana felt the same sense of patriotism. Amid the squeals of children scampering through the splash pad, Zachary King recalled what it was like growing up gay in Cynthiana.
He experienced bullying at Harrison County High School, which led him to drop out during his sophomore year and complete his diploma online. Today, the 25-year-old is a personal care medical technician.
King didn’t attend the capsule unearthing because he was working, and he believes taxpayer money would be better spent expanding parking, housing and inclusive events for minorities sponsored by the city.
“I’m pretty sure we didn’t have nothing done in the month of June for LGBTQ people, other than some lights on the courthouse,” he said. “I think we’re bigger than the lights on the courthouse.”
Sitting beside him on a metal picnic table, Lewis, King’s brother-in-law, chimed in.
“There was no Juneteenth or nothing,” he said.
Lewis shares in many of the challenges faced by people throughout Cynthiana, Kentucky, and the country as a whole, including the mounting costs of gas, groceries and rent. But he also appreciates the moments of unity he sees in his community. Above all, he’s grateful to live somewhere where he can support his family, while giving his son a shot at a better future.
“Obviously, we’re still struggling as a country, but it’s still a great country, you know?” Lewis said. “I wouldn’t want to live nowhere else.”
This article is part of a collaboration between The Courier Journal and Boyd’s Station, a Kentucky non-profit that provides emerging artists and student journalists a rural place to hone their craft. Nikole Valiente received the 2026 Mary Withers Rural Writing Fellowship grant at Boyd’s Station.