By Vindicatrix, atop the Jefferson Davis Statue
For more than 103 years, I’ve kept watch over Monument Avenue. And I’ll be honest: It is great up here. I love watching the cars pass by, witnessing the sun set to the west and rise in the east, and I get to witness lovers holding hands as they stroll down one of Richmond’s most precious thoroughfares.
I’m not complaining about my job here. But I do ask this: Can I please, for the love of God, please please please put my arm down now?
My arm is seriously so freaking sore! Like, have you ever held your arms above your head for an extended period of time? Go on, try it. I’ll give you a few seconds. Go on, do it.
See? Hurts, doesn’t it?
But like I mentioned earlier, I can only complain so much. I am, after all, part of one of the more popular statues along the most famous of Richmond’s avenues: Jefferson Davis. And here’s a fun fact you may not know about us: Davis and I were designed by William C. Noland and were sculpted by Edward Valentine, both of whom I curse on a daily basis for making me keep my arm extended straight up for what seems like an eternity.
Ugh, my arm! And it’s not just my arm, mind you. It’s like this burning sensation that goes all the way into my right shoulder and deltoid, and rips all the way down my back. Really, my arm is just numb. I’m starting to even feel it in my legs.
Which, come to think of it, haven’t gotten a lot of exercise in the past couple years, either.
Jeff, down there, he never complains. He has his arm outstretched sort of like me, but I think he actually enjoys it. Probably because he gets all the attention. Everyone’s always like “Ohh, it’s Jeff Davis. President of the Confederacy, the man charged with treason but never tried, who wrote The Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government and who died in New Orleans in 1889 of unestablished causes.” No one really even notices me, much less knows my name, nor understands the sharp, intense pains I feel in my neck, day and night, because some statue designer thought it would be funny to make my arm pointing skyward.
What a jerk.
Seriously, if you guys could find a time to get me down for just a brief moment, I’d love to be able to stretch for a bit. Maybe even catch that sale I heard about at dELiA’s. You may have to climb the 67-foot column to reach me, but I swear, I’ll make it worth your while.
They don’t call me Vindicatrix for nothing, honey.