Kentucky

I must have been born with a ‘travel gene’ because from earliest memories I have been interested in far away places. By ‘far away’ I mean anything beyond home and environs. About the time I was in third grade at school, the names of states began to make an impact on my consciousness. I used to coax Dad to tell me once again the name of all the states he had been to. I kept track of them and if he forgot to name a state I would remind him. Mom’s list of states was meager compared to Dad’s and so was mine.

I loved to hear the folks tell me about the places I had been as a baby. In their telling, my birth state of Kentucky took on a quality of specialness that I never applied to any other state I’ve lived or traveled in. Neither have I spent much of my life there, but perhaps birth states are special. I certainly seemed to have bonded to mine.

In those early childhood days, any bit of history about Kentucky got my attention. Kentucky was called both ‘the dark and bloody ground’ and ‘the happy hunting ground’ but my grade school history books never explained the reasons. As an adult I read that Kentucky was not home to any tribe per say, but surrounded by many that hunted in the area and oft times clashed, thus, the bloody connotation.

When ever Dad would say that Kentucky was the home of fast horses, beautiful women, tobacco and whisky, he always had a twinkle in his eye and gave Mom a knowing look. I could tell a secret meaning had passed between them and it seemed as if Kentucky was special to them too.

Growing up I sifted the remarks about horses from Calumet Farm when the Kentucky Derby was run and took childish pride in having the famous race at Churchill Downs in ‘my’ Louisville. Even today when I watch the run for the roses on television, I get a delicious shiver when the crowd sings My Old Kentucky Home.

It has been many years since I was last in Kentucky, but I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Kentucky relatives who now live in other states. Favorite cousins, brother and sister, RosaLee and Albert and their families now live in Georgia and our last visit was memorable! Just hearing Rose’s voice on the phone brings back a wave of Kentucky nostalgia. I never get tired of remembering the house on Phillips Lane in Louisville and the love and warmth I experienced there. Viva RosaLee! Viva Albert!