U is for Unbridled Spirit

Living in a state that is generally in the bottom five for everything, per capita income, education, etc. one gets used to dealing with bad press. For instance, when I travel across the US and meet people their initial response to hearing I am from Kentucky is to look at my feet to see if I am wearing shoes.  I have heard all the jokes and am familiar with all the stereotypes of Kentuckians as inbred moonshiners and Dukes of Hazard wannabees in our supercharged General Lees.  Some of those same people, of course, couldn't find Kentucky on a map if it were labeled.   That's fine by me.

I am a Kentucky girl by choice.  I was born in Ohio, but even that state feels too far North for me.  My family moved south when I was three to be closer to my dad's family.  I have transited my belongings back and forth across the Ohio, too many times to count.  But for the last twenty years they, and I have remained steadfastly south of the river.  I traverse the river daily to work.  I sit in rush hour traffic.  I pay almost double the state income tax.  I get odd looks.  I stick my chin out like a good Kentucky woman and say "Screw you" to the naysayers.  Stubborn to the end.

There are lots of things wrong with the state.  But, just between me and you, one of the things about Kentucky is that it is still unspoiled and beautiful in so many places. OK, there has been a lot of coal mining in parts, but there are still large swaths that are undeveloped and covered in trees. I imagine that it looks much the same as it did when Daniel Boone crossed through Cumberland Gap.

Most people will never see the place where I live.  They won't fly here to vacation.  They won't slip off their shoes and poke around in the creek for crawdads or stop long enough to enjoy watching the sunset from the porch.  The won't feel the pull to explore little hollers and ridges to see where they go (Yes they are most definitely called hollers).  And that's OK with me.  Because I know Kentucky.  I have seen her heart.

I have space here.  I can breathe without feeling like I am inhaling someone else's used air.  And that breath will carry the lingering scent of bluegrass and pawpaws.  It isn't the beauty of the prairie, but of ancient rolling hills that gives way to sweet pastures bordered in white and red where amazing horseflesh canters.  It is one of the best kept secrets in the US for natural beauty.  The land and the people have shaped each other over generations into free-spirited no-nonsense places of unbridled beauty.

Jesse Stuart said it better than I ever could in his poem Kentucky is My Land excerpted here:

"These things are my Kentucky.

They went into the brain, body, flesh, and blood of me.

These things, Kentucky- flavored, grown in her dirt,

Helped build my body strong and shape my brain.

They laid foundations for my future thoughts.

They made me a part of Kentucky.

These are inescapable things,

Childhood to boyhood to manhood.

Even the drab hills of winter were filled with music.

The lonesome streams in the narrow-gauged valleys

Sang poetic songs without words.

And the leafless trees etched on gray winter skies

Were strong and substantial lines of poetry."

Kentucky is my home and I am hers.