Riding through Hopkinsville History

I had the opportunity to experience the 27th Annual Night Riders tour of Hopkinsville this weekend, and came away with mixed feelings.

William Turner (right)  is a wonderful story-teller

I think it's very important for people to learn the history of their hometown or place they're currently living. And I am happy the event serves as a fundraiser for the Pennyroyal Museum. However, I think the atmosphere created during the event trivializes and romanticizes what took place Dec. 7, 1907.

Why do we need to see men and women donning black masks and firing guns for history to truly sink in? Yes, I agree, it can be extremely entertaining. But, is it OK to clap for the re-enactors as they depict I wife laying on top of her husband in the street to stop him getting beaten by a whip?

The very tone of the tour lends only the slightest hint that what the Night Riders did is questionable at best; there were times when historians William Turner and Chris Gilkey made half-hearted disclaimers about the riders escaping justice, or the mean wrecking the crops of their neighbors who sold to the man with the monopoly.  Each one, though, was predicated on the idea that the Night Riders did what they had to do because their backs were up against the wall, and they had food to provide for their families.

A re-enactor sits on his horse

First, I think boiling the conflict down to "providing food for their families" is unfair. Yes, I realize their is more money to be made from your product when the man you're selling it to is selling it for almost 50 times what you sold it to him. However, does that give you the right to fire-bomb his business? Or shoot-up the newspaper building because the editor condemned riders when they wrecked crops and intimidated other farmers?

I fear another comparison I made in the printed article is going to be taken at face value; in the story, I ask several people if they think modern drug dealers face the same situation as the Night Riders. First, let me be clear: NO, I do NOT think it's OK to sell drugs. 

Let me write that one more time so it can sink in: it is NOT OK to sell drugs.

A re-enactor protects her husband

But, if it's alright for historians to tell people not to judge the actions of farmers who did what they thought they had to do in order to provide for their families, how is it unfair to make the same comparison to someone who feels they need to sell dope to feed their own family?

Yes, I think there are other options people could turn to today, and I understand social systems have evolved between now and 1907. However, to simply justify the actions of a mass mob because they thought they had no other options is both far too simple and frankly a disservice to the listeners and the farmers themselves. 

In 2010, more than one-third of the households made less than $25,00 in Christian County. I am sure the economic situations were strenuous to the farmers in 1907 too, but it's interesting to see similar economic difficulties more than a century later.

Other tidbits I picked up during the tour: 

• William Turner and Chris Gilkey can certainly tell a story. I know why they crafted the event to run as it does, but it just doesn't sit well with me.
• I'm not a big fan of Civil War re-enactments either, and the tour created the same feeling for me.
• I don't understand the appeal of handing out spent shell-casings to children so they can take them home as souvenirs, but it seemed like the popular thing to do. 
• As part of the reenactment, one of the participants blew into the end of a rifle to show the warning sound the Riders had for one another to regroup. I had never heard the sound before, but it resembles the sound of a deer or an elk call. Also would take a braver man than me to blow into the end of a rifle; I saw the gun was obviously not loaded, but still...
• I did enjoy how many people came out, and the little historical asides provided by Turner and Gilkey. True, a story about Ferrell's and other interesting tidbits in Hopkinsville may not strictly apply to the Night Riders tale, but they're fun, interesting and helped to lighten the mood for me, anyway. 
• We were ferried around on two semi-trucks, and I have a entirely new found respect for those drivers. They were tasked with pulling the trucks next to one another while avoiding the cars and horses filling the narrow downtown streets. There were quite a few times when I thought they'd hit something for sure, only to miss the object by inches. 
• Thanks to Ben Joubert for the pictures. He had to hop on and off the semis before they took off, it required a fair amount of athletic ability. Well done, sir. 

Thanks for the continued comments and suggestions, I appreciate it! Feel free to add comments here, email me at dboucher@kentuckynewera.com or call me at 270-887-3262. 

Bluegrass legends bid farewell?

In a story that ran in the Monday print edition of the New Era, officials from the International Bluegrass Hall of Fame in Owensboro said this year's celebration could be the last of its kind (I've included the link here to the Associated Press story that ran in the Houston Chronicle, but the original story came from the Owensboro Messenger-Inquirer.)

Ginger Boatwright, a Bluegrass legend, is 67 years old.

In the story, it laments the rapid aging of the inaugural Bluegrass generation; in fact, Earl Scruggs is the only member of the classic Blue Grass Boys band -- made popular by the father of Bluegrass, Bill Monroe -- still living.

Unfortunately I did not get to hear Scruggs play when I attended the event, but I heard he had quite a crowd. Needless to say, I did not realize the monumental occasion I had the privilege to be a part of during my short time at the festival, but looking back, I've come to a realization: almost to a person, the attendees at the event were slightly old.

"Slightly" is probably not the most descriptive adjective to use to describe the age of the participants, but it could be the kindest, so let's run with it. I noticed a few children, but by and large, most attendees at the event could have passed for somebody's grandparents.

Is this merely a sign that the fans are growing older along with the stars they've cherished for years, or a bigger, more threatening shift for Bluegrass music? With the original guard dwindling in size, will those interested in the genre decrease proportionally?

Roy Chapman, Pike County, has played for almost 40 years

I'd like to think this won't be the case, that new fans will continue to surface everyday. And maybe they will; two of the people I met at the fair, the men who roadtripped 16-hours from Connecticut to see Scruggs play, were definitely some of the youngest in the crowd. Personally, the music is growing on me and I wouldn't be surprised to find myself at a Bluegrass festival or two in the near future.

Nationally--and realistically--though, I think the hill facing those trying to promote Bluegrass music only continues to steepen. At the time it was created, it was obviously a new sound, promoted amongst fans already accustomed to country music but ready for a new twist. Today, as depressing as it may be, the speed and expertise of a skilled banjo or mandolin player just doesn't grab the attention of most young people they way a synthesizer and teen-angst lyrics can.

Not too many children took in the Doug Dillard concert

Bluegrass has never truly competed with pop or rock music for the majority of American listeners, and I don't think it was created with that intention in mind. However, through my limited research into the genre, I've learned that the people who gravitate to the music are what make it special.

With many of the genre stalwarts passing on though, will the remaining members of Bluegrass be able to attract and cultivate the following and culture that make the current combination of banjo, mandolin and guitar so special?

Thanks for your continued support of and comments about my column. Tomorrow we'll take a look at some of the recent response I've received concerning the bucket list.

The sound of Kentucky

Doug Dillard greeted me kindly after his show

I have a guitar, and I try and strum a note or two every now and then. I've had no real training--except reluctant, quick lessons from my slightly more talented brother--but after practicing for a while I'll get the wild notion that I can actually play the instrument.

After watching some of the musicians at the celebration for Bill Monroe at the International Bluegrass Hall of Fame in Owensboro, though, it's confirmed: I'm abysmal, and they're absolutely fantastic.


My extremely limited musical ability has allowed me to respect truly blessed musicians, regardless of the genre. Before the event, I had never really listened to a great of Bluegrass, or had the urge to. However, watching Doug Dillard and his compatriots fly through songs with such skill made me appreciate the music as so much more than its the traditional, simple genre it is touted to be.

I realize the song content, at least the ones I've heard, is fairly similar to themes prevalent in country music, another genre people tend to view as a little backward. But really, the ability this musicians  showed, to adeptly play with one another while maintaining their own style at an impressive frantic pace, gave me a new respect for the music.


Getting to see Doug Dillard was interesting; my parents were always fans of 'The Andy Griffith Show,' and my dad was pretty excited when he heard I got to see one of the stars of The Darlings play. While he was most certainly talented though, I was equally impressed with his bandmates. Although the band he runs with know is known as The Doug Dillard Band, the person who seems to lead the group and sings the majority of the sings is Ginger Boatwright. The self-proclaimed queen of bluegrass, she was cracking jokes and interacting with the crowd for the entire show.

Roger Rasnake also played guitar, with Steve Cooley on mandolin and Buddy Griffin on bass. Cooley was nuts on the mandolin; I had never really been exposed to mandolin music before, but it appears to take an exceptional amount of focus and hand-eye coordination to excel on the instrument.

Other notes from the hall of fame:

• I was a little bummed about the timing of the festival: Monday through Wednesday, mostly taking place during the day. I understand that perhaps it was the best time to get everyone in the same spot, but I'm confident the event would have had a much higher turnout if they had planned the celebration for a weekend.
• The museum itself was interesting despite its relatively small size. I've never been to any other music hall of fame, and I know the hall and museum have only been around for about 15 years, but I had managed to go through the exhibit twice in about 20 minutes. Seemed like there would be more.
• I would have absolutely loved to buy a Bluegrass CD or two while I was there, but they cost was generally between $25-30 for any collection. I don't blame the museum for trying to make a profit, and obviously those who tend to come to the museum are a little more invested in the music than me, but I found multiple Bill Monroe CDs online for less than $10. 
• I'd love to learn to play the banjo or mandolin; no real practical reason, but they seem to pretty entertaining instruments.
• Found a quotation from Bill Monroe at the museum that I really loved: "Bluegrass has brought more people together and made more friends than any music in the world." By the congenial air I found everywhere at the festival, I can see where Monroe was coming from.
• The first video on the blog shows Doug Dillard playing banjo in my favorite Bluegrass song, Dooley, on "The Andy Griffith Show." The next video is of Dillard, again on banjo, and The Darlings playing a song called "There is a time." 

Thanks again for your continued support of the column. Although I attended the festival by myself, I'll provide more information about the event and the style in tomorrow's post.

Dressing for the dance

New Era Copy Editor Monica K. Smith attended the powwow as well, and discusses what she learned from the regalia at the event.

Monica eventually found some feathers

If I had never learned anything from watching Project Runway, I was definitely getting an education in Hopkinsville this weekend: Feathers, for those who don't know, are in.

At least that was the lesson I received Saturday night at the 24th Annual International Powwow. Sure, I've seen a few girls with color-corrected hair attach feathers to their own heads for additional flair;  however, this was something all-together new. Feathers of all colors, types and textures flocked around the grounds, sending my optical senses into overdrive. They were standing tall on head pieces, fluttering on robes, flowing on jewelry, and a few exceptionally decorated individuals paraded with feathers collected together to create the semblance of wings (who doesn't need wings?!? I could use two sets!).

Oh I was jealous. There I was in jeans and a tank top. No accessories. No flair. No feathers.

Monica is a little afraid of what she's holding

Watching them moving through the crowd was inspiring enough - then came the drums.

The rhythms filled the powwow as individuals competed in a dance competition, their movements causing their feathers to flutter in the air. As I watched I learned that the way an individual was dressed indicated what type of dance was expected of the dancer. It was explained to me that the construction of the outfits is begun at a young age, and the regalia is steadily worked on as the individual grows, creating a wearable tapestry representing a part of that person's life. I came to realize that the outfits each person wore were chosen for a specific purpose - each feather attached for a reason.

Those who judged the dancers were knowledgeable on various clothing styles and what a particular style would equate to on the dance floor – err … ground. So, dancers were thus graded not only on their ability to dance well, but their ability to best represent their outer appearance.

Monica appreciated the meticulous care needed to create the regalia

As I watched them dance, greatly coveting their eagle feathers, I realized I'm just as meticulous in what I wear. Each top is debated, set of earrings pondered, "do I wear a scarf or a sweater?" I started to wonder what my outer appearance indicated of me - and if my dance matched. 

Thanks Monica for the article and the awesome photos! Look for hints at my next bucket list location, and reaction to the last column, later this week! 

More than a song and dance

I had the privilege of attending the powwow in Hopkinsville this weekend, and I was thoroughly impressed with the entire affair. Although I didn't meet any local dancers, I'm sure at least one or two of the participants in the two-day event hailed from some place local, and I'm fairly certain most of the attendees were from the area.

These guys were awesome, and played all day long

While the dancing was amazing and the regalia--the outfits people wore, not to be confused with or referred to as costumes-- I could not get over the intensity and ability of the musicians. While, for the most part, they only used their voices and one large communal drum, I thought the music was vibrant, unique and had a great deal of depth. I have absolutely no idea what they were singing about, but I know that I would never have guessed the men encircling the drum could have made those songs with their voices alone.

Some may have described the voices as shrill or tribal, but I thought they had a beautiful ability to cover a wide range of notes, moving through different octaves while harmonizing very effectively. There were two bands who, not only alternated songs but also rotated through a variety of different group members. The changes happened seamlessly though, which helped create a more familial atmosphere for me; although I'm not positive, the ability for all of the different musicians to play the same songs together gave the impression that everyone grew up watching their dads, grandpas and other family members seeing the songs. (I only saw men playing the drum and singing the song. I'm not positive on this point either, but I doubt this was a coincidence.)

Other moments from the powwow that stuck with me:

 I love the way the sky and his regalia look in color

• I've had frybread in the past, but I had the good fortune to enjoy more of the dish on Saturday. When I've tried it, is has resembled something like an elephant ear/funnel cake, but of a slightly thicker consistency. I know you can enjoy it as more of a main meal as well though, turning out something lie an open-faced taco. Mine was drizzled in honey, and it was delectable.
• The weather seemed to add some character to the event. As I arrived on Saturday, a double rainbow was clearly visible in southern Hopkinsville, and the sun and clouds seemed to participate in a dance of their own throughout the evening. The dancers didn't let a slight rain deter them from letting lose; on Sunday though, some lightning seemed to give some pause. During the golden age women's division, as the elderly women were participating in a cloud dance, a massive clap of thunder followed a flash of lightning. After the dance was complete, the announcer joked all of the ladies had added a new move to their repertoire: a five-foot jump straight up, which seemed to directly coincide with that thunder. 
• The announcer was hilarious. You could tell he had emceed similar events in the past, but he was having a great time and genuinely added to the experience while maintaining the pace of the dances. 
• It's always fun for me to see someone truly committed to something that I don't really understand. The dancers seemed to relish in the environment, moving freely without any apparent signs of embarrassment or resignation.  

Thanks as always for your interest in the column and blog, please continue to send your comments and suggestions my way. Tomorrow look for a different take on the event from New Era Copy Editor Monica K. Smith. She also shot the two photos on the blog today, so much thanks for her help. 
 

Mailbag

I had several emails, phone calls and personal interactions concerning the Country Boy Store column, previous columns and ideas for future visits. We'll start with the constructive criticism:

Tim Killebrew (I'm sorry if this name spelling is incorrect, but Mr. Killebrew did not leave a phone number at which to contact him in my message, which was transferred to me from a different New Era phone) told me that I should have mentioned the real location of the store. Although I did say the store was between Gracey and Herndon, he said I should have mentioned that the store is actually in Newstead.

While I did mention that the store is several hundred feet from the former Newstead train depot, Mr. Killebrew is quite right, I did not mention specifically that the store is in Newstead. My apologies.

I received an email from Susan Perdue Hughes, saying she enjoyed the goat island story I had a few weeks ago and wanted to know how to find the island. She asked for vehicle or boat directions, and had trouble locating it on her Lake Barkley State Resort Park map.

Ms. Hughes, I had trouble finding the island as well. However, I did have a simple map from the park office that showed goat island. It's approximately two or three miles from the park lodge, to the right of the lodge if you are looking out at the lake from the balcony. It won't be the first island you come across, but it will be the biggest. Even once I found it though, I really wasn't certain it was the island until I actually saw a goat.

Lastly, I had an email from Nora Spinaio that said she enjoyed the country boy column, but wondered if my Mom liked her present or knew what it was. This letter came before my Mom's response in the blog yesterday, but I'll summarize: yes, she did enjoy the gift, but we're both still trying to figure out exactly what it is or how she's going to use it!

Ms. Spinaio also suggested I visit the Lighthouse of Crofton Assembly of God. She said it's one of those little churches found all over the south, and the fellowship hall is almost finished being repaired.

I had never heard of the church before your suggestion, Ms. Spinaio, but I will ask around, look into and who knows, maybe it will be in a column in the not-too-distant future.

Thanks again to everyone who sends emails, calls in or speaks with me personally about my columns. I really appreciate and value any and all feedback!

Tomorrow I'll give a preview of some future column sites, and give a hint as to where I'll be for this coming Monday's column.

Dave's mom responds to her gift from the Country Boy Store

Mom was happy not to get a battle ax

Helen Boucher, mother of Staff Writer Dave Boucher, responds to her gift and the column Dave wrote about the experience. 

The Country Boy Stores column was, in itself, a gift for me, as is every article David writes. He pours his heart and soul into each piece and in reading his articles, it’s like sharing a part of his everyday life. I could feel the horse breathing underneath me when Dave wrote about his rodeo experience. I laughed when Dave didn’t know how to steer the boat that he used to get to Goat Island. I was stumbling through the crowded Country Boy Store with him when he went in search of a birthday gift for me! I love to read what David writes because it means he’s right here with me in Michigan and not so far away.

The poem that Dave wrote for his Dad and me was absolutely the best! I wish I could have been with my husband when he read the poem. He’s a pretty tough guy but I know it made him teary-eyed. I just unabashedly cried when I read it.

As far as the “hanging basket thing” goes, I love it! And I’m thankful it’s not a battle ax or a camo jacket!

Thanks Mom for the nice letter! I'll post and respond to more of some of my recent feedback to the column on the blog tomorrow.

A different perspective

 Staff Writer Ben Joubert, another Michigan man, provides his account of what struck him about the Country Boy Store

I am in the same boat as Dave. A fellow Michigander we both are interested in the unique quality of the rural Kentucky community. Even so, unlike Dave, I am slightly more at home on the back country roads of Kentucky.  I grew up in the small town of Charlotte on a nice plot of land surrounded by Amish farmers and rocky dirt roads that seemingly led to nowhere. A quaint store was stationed just across the street from my house and sold anything from soda and candy to gasoline at an exorbitant price to unlucky drivers who happened to find themselves in the middle of nowhere with an arrow dangerously hovering around E.

But Charlotte was no Kentucky. I thought I had the South pegged and figured out when I got used to older men calling me “son” and women my own age (early 20s) calling me “baby” or “honey” or “sweetie.” The first time I saw someone light a cigarette in a restaurant I thought he was some kind of heroic Rosa Parks character standing up for civil injustice. Quickly, I realized smoking tends to be a given in most Hopkinsville bars and restaurants. I had gotten used to seeing a congregant of Michigan bar customers huddled together, sharing body warmth, 25 yards from any building, sucking down smoke as quickly as possible before rushing back inside.

Some of the knickknacks available in a display case

Needless to say, this is not what defines Kentucky. From what I can tell, The Country Boy Store is what currently best represents the Kentucky I anticipated in my move from the Mid-North to the South. Located amidst corn and tobacco fields, The Country Boy Store is what I define as a “culture shock.”

Guns, watches, army uniforms, helmets, guns, a rusty banjo, dirty coffee cups, ammunition, busted-up typewriters and scores upon scores of other items littered the store. Next door was a small barn loaded with furniture and stained mattresses. I couldn’t help wondering, is anyone really going to buy a freezer filled with brown water? Or a used toilet covered in cobwebs? Despite my questioning, the place was a wonderland of curiosities. I could have spent another hour scrounging around for something I could barter for. It was truly fascinating. Organization was not a factor. Things were piled on top of other things and the place was lit by a little outdoor light and a single light bulb. It seemed like just the place I had read about in books and seen in movies.

A variety of toilets can be found behind the store

Now, that’s not to say that places like The Country Boy Store don’t exist in Michigan. I just wasn’t aware of any. That being said, I don’t think anyone will be buying a double-barreled shotgun or a loaded crossbow from Jones Country Store across the street from my old house anytime soon.

Boy what a store!

I love garage sales and looking through other people's prized possessions, so I was absolutely blown away when I went to the Country Boy Store last Friday. Just south of Hopkinsville, the huts may appear slightly shabby, but they house enough gadgets and gizmos to keep any guy busy for quite a while.

Although I was there to shop for my mom, I know my Dad and brother would love this store. The camping/fishing/hiking/hunting accessory possibilities were endless! You could find practically anything you wanted in camo, and it took at lot of self-restraint for me to not try on some of the Army helmets or the gas mask fellow staff writer Ben Joubert found down one of the aisles.

But, hands down, the things that caught my eye the moment I walked in the door were the guns. Sure, I'd seen hunting rifles before. The shotguns were nothing new. It was the guns that looked like they were straight out of Rambo that surprised me. One was absolutely massive, looked like it could put a hole in pretty much anything and was just hanging right next to the door. Another was on the floor in the back of the store, and looked to be about as long as I am tall.

Not surprisingly, the four young men who came to the store while I was there were equally as excited about the find. They thought the weapon hanging by the door might work though, and hinted at trying it out, something store-owner Gant Golladay didn't seem too thrilled about. He said not to stress or detail the guns he had at the store in my story because he has thieves come by all the time and try to take the weapons. Even though he has a security system that beeps ominously every few minutes, the remote store is still susceptible to burglary.

Gant said if a thief wants to get in, he or she will find a way to make it happen. Still, he didn't seem like the type of person who would great an intruder with tea and cookies.

A few other notes I remember from my afternoon at the store: 

-I thought for sure that I was going to knock something over, resulting in everything cascading on top of me and possibly injuring everyone in the store. The casual lack-of-classification for where to find things added to the atmosphere of the store, though.

 -Conservatively, I would put the number of old toilets on the property at 25. I found them in one of the other sheds and all over the back yard in different degrees of disrepair. Not sure if there's a huge market for used toilets...

-The store's cash register could be the coolest thing I've ever seen. Gant couldn't remember how long it had been in use at the store, but there was nothing computerized about it. It seemed to have grown into the counter itself, not easily distinguishable from the next item for sale. The small calculator entered accepted my total for the hanging basket item that I bought, and sent a signal through wires that hung from the ceiling and ran to the wall a few feet behind the counter. After a second, another hidden draw gave a little ding and opened. I may be easily entertained, but I love homemade anythings and these seemed like a fine example.

My mom Helen displaying her new hanging thing

-Hundreds of little pieces of farm equipment and other antiques were pinned to the walls of the store. Gant said when one of the original owners got an item he didn't think would sell, he would nail it to the wall. Now, Gant is confident some of the old items are worth a pretty penny. 

-My mom was kind enough to act like she enjoyed the hanging thing that I got her. After debating between the basket and a plug-in water fountain contraption, I decided it was a safer bet the basket would stay operational a little bit longer.

Thanks for your continued interest in and support of my bucket list column. Keep sending your comments, questions or complaints to dboucher@kentuckynewera.com or post them to the blog. Look for a different perspective on the Country Boy Store in tomorrow's post.

National Folk Festival, Sept. 2-4, Nashville

Periodically I'll post links to events that I think would make for great cultural experiences, despite the fact they don't have the privilege of taking place in Western Kentucky. 

From the media section of the National Folk Festival website

I heard about this event on the radio a few weekends ago, and it sounds like it could be a great time. I know it's in the dreaded Volunteer State, but it seems like any folk festival could be a good time for Kentuckians.

Tomorrow I'll start looking at some options for next week's column, and I welcome any input you might have!

Mailbag

Each week I'll share some of the responses, positive and negative, that I get from my columns

It was a rather slow week as far as responses to the column go. Although I did speak with several people who shared some of their horse ridding memories with me, I only received one email specifically related to my rodeo experience. It comes from a man named Wiley, and I happen to agree with him.

After asking whether I was related to some Bouchers who owned a real hardware store in the Nashville area in the 1950s (as far as I know I'm not, by the way. I think my Bouchers came from Canada, but I'm always down for meeting/creating new relatives) he had his own opinion about my clothing:

"If you were wearing a wool shirt in Kentucky in August you are tougher than I am." 

Well thank you, sir. Although it had less to do with toughness and more to do with trying to look the part of a cowboy--which I'm fairly certain I failed anyway, thanks to not having a cowboy hat--I appreciate your sentiment. I've already passed it along to staff photographer Dana Long, who felt it was not a sign of toughness as much as a sign of stupidity. 

I prefer your interpretation.

I did receive several other emails from people suggesting sites and events that need to be featured in future columns. One came from local media veteran Jim Love, who suggested I look into two stories: one dealing with an interesting local twist on the tale of Noah's arc, the other a local tie to a car accident involving Gen. George Patton. Both seem fairly entertaining, if not entirely factual, and I'm excited to do a little digging. 

I also received a suggestion from a man named Ben, who said he lives in Cadiz. He suggested I visit a famous civil war site located in western Kentucky, and provided part of the history for that site. I agree Ben, that would be a great place to visit; while others have mentioned the site in the past, no one has provided pictures to bolster their pitch. I'm convinced it's a great idea, and it will definitely make an appearance in an article in the near future.

Thanks again to everyone who sent me responses; good, bad, neutral or nasty, I appreciate any and all feedback.

For tomorrow's blog post, I want to hear about your favorite rodeo experiences. What's your favorite event? How did this year's rodeo compare to others in the past? Would you ever ride a bull?

Send your stories and pictures to me, either by posting to the blog or through email at dboucher@kentuckynewera.com.

A different perspective

Staff Photographer Dana Long offers her perspective on what she feels are my odd dressing habits. 

So far, getting Dave to do silly things in order to learn about western Kentucky life has been pretty easy. Getting him to do the smart thing is a little trickier.

Lucky that late-afternoon clouds blocked out the sun, Dave sports a long-sleeved shirt at the Kelly Green Men Days.

When he arrived at the rodeo, some participants were surprised to see him wearing a long-sleeved wool shirt — certainly atypical attire for a Kentucky August, but nothing that surprised me. 

Earlier in the day, he showed up at the Kelly Green Men Days — with temperatures in the 90s — in a different long-sleeved shirt. 

During the Western Kentucky State Fair’s demolition derby (again, with temperatures hot enough to make Satan sweat), he casually meandered into the fairgrounds wearing a long-sleeved shirt under a sweater.

Seriously, Dave?

Now most of us Kentuckians can understand wearing long sleeves and pants in the summer to ward off sunburn and perpetual attacks by ticks, mosquitoes and other creepy-crawly blood suckers, but we obviously have more sense than Dave and don’t venture out into the summer sauna wearing a layer of wool. Such antics get him hours of teasing in the newsroom and should create a new item on his bucket list: dressing appropriately for the weather.

Wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a sweater during an intense summer heat wave, Dave takes his teasing from New Era photographer Dana Long and Webmaster John Godsey like a champ.

What’s next Dave, flannel in a tobacco patch? 

Fortunately for us, he takes his teasing in stride. But when winter’s chill settles in and the first sight of a snowflake prompts bread and milk shortages at local grocery stores, school closings and the reminder that most Kentuckians got their driver’s licenses out of Cracker Jack boxes, that Yankee will surely wonder why such a minor snowfall throws a major wrench in our lives. 

He’ll get his revenge. After we get back from the grocery store. 

Welcome to Dave's Kentucky Bucket Blog

Thank you for venturing to Dave's Kentucky Bucket Blog. In this blog I'll try to provide more insight into my experiences, as well as a way for you to ask me questions, share your own experiences or tip me off to the location of my next visit.

I've designed a tentative posting schedule for the blog that will run as follows:

Monday: The story behind the story
     -I'll post some tidbits from that week's adventure that weren't able to make it into the column.

Tuesday: A different perspective
     -Often I'm accompanied on my trips by a photographer, and that person typically has a slightly different opinion of how things go down. For the events where I'm joined by another staffer, that person will provide their account of the experience.

Wednesday: Mailbag
     -I get some response each week to what I write, and I try to respond to as many as possible. Here, I'll share some of those comments and my own responses.

Thursday: Your bucket list
     -This is a chance for you to share your own experiences that are similar to the one I've completed that week. If you've got a picture of you riding a horse in a rodeo, for example, send it my way and I could post it to the blog.

Friday: To the next adventure
     -I'll share the options I'm considering for upcoming bucket list sites, and what questions I hope to answer during the course of the experience.

Saturday: If my bucket was larger than Western Kentucky
     -I find stories about places I'd love to go or events in which I'd love to participate all the time. I'll share links to some of these, as well as why I think they would make for a fun column.

Sunday: Sneak peek
     -I'll give a few hints about what will run in tomorrow's column. I may even include a photo or two from the experience.

Thanks again for your interest in the column. I appreciate any and all feedback, so leave a comment here with any appropriate opinion you may have.
 

Rodeo round-up

Overall I had a great time at the rodeo; it was a humbling experience, but one I will definitely remember fondly in years to come. There are a few things that stuck with me from the event that did not make it into the column, a scenario I've found myself in when writing all of my bucket list stories.

So, on the day my column runs in the New Era, I'll be posting additional tidbits here in the blog.

I'm in the green shirt, trying to act like I've done this before.

I cannot emphasize how weird it was for me to feel my horse Rob Roy inhaling and exhaling: the expansion and shrinking of the rib cage creates a really odd feeling of not being in control, for me anyway. I can generally pick things up pretty quickly, but I had a tough time really feeling comfortable with the horse and the subtle ques needed to come to a mutual understanding. Vanessa Madison, one of the rodeo orchestrators and my guide for the night, told me the more I relaxed I was on the horse, the more the horse would relax and the easier it would be for both of us. Apparently I had a tough time relaxing, because neither of us really seemed all that comfortable.

Apart from my lack of control, it was particularly humbling to see little kids riding by on massive horses. Some of these kids could not have been older than 8 or 9 years old, their legs jutting out at extreme angles because they were too short to fold around the horse's side. And yet they trotted by on their steads with easy, obviously happy as a clam. I've never been in a situation where little kids were able to do something better than me; this could be one of the first signs that I'm starting to get old.

Other tidbits that stood out to me:

• Some of the cowboys used lassos that didn't appear to be made of rope or the typical dusty brown color expected, but rather a cord-material sometimes made with loud colors, including neon green, yellow and pink. New Era photographer Dana Long and I decided maybe the colorful lassos could be easier to see after the cowboy makes his or her throw. 
• Thanks to Dana Long for photographing the event, coming through with awesome rodeo art, including the photo in this post. 
• The smell of a rodeo is immediately evident and similar to that of a barn, but it faded away pretty quickly. 
• One of the rodeo judges, Jeff, told me he'd been involved with rodeos for 16 or 17 years. He said although it's fun, it can get a little repetitive. He used to ride in the events, but preferred the guaranteed paycheck that came with being a judge.
• Mike Gibbs, the cowboy who helped me during my ride, competed in the team calf roping event. He said he belonged to the International Professional Rodeo Association, as did most of the other participants. The organization keeps a calendar of rodeos, and riders need to sign up with the local rodeo organizers in order to participate. 

Thanks for your continued interest in the column, please let me know if you have any ideas, questions or criticism. Feel free to post your comments on this site, and click on the info box on the home page of the blog to subscribe to future posts.