The Weather Outside is Frightful

Mighty cold

Finally, it has arrived -- the blast of cold weather we've been reading, hearing, and thinking about for the last week. The wind is howling through the trees, and the thermometer on the porch says +5°F. By morning, it will be zero.

Of course, the cold temperatures in southern Kentucky are nothing much, compared to states north of us. Some of our rain and sleet was "flash-frozen" on our roads when the cold air arrived tonight, but we didn't get enough snow to cover the ground. I'm thankful.

Yesterday was a mild sunny day. The sky was blue until sunset when a low gray bank of clouds appeared on the western horizon. It was the sort of day that once might have lured a pioneer into hitching up his team and setting off on a long trip to town for supplies. We've all heard the sad stories of people who perished in winter storms that appeared from nowhere. Now we have an entire weather industry that keeps us warned about dangerous weather we might not otherwise anticipate.

About 3:00 pm yesterday, one of my ears suddenly began to ache. I didn't recognize that as a weather omen but Keely (my personal scientist) pointed out that the barometric pressure was dropping rapidly, and my somewhat stuffy head probably wasn't equalized yet. I think she was right. Six hours later, the earache was gone.

My father's cattle must have been good at reading the weather signs. When a winter storm was near, they always gathered at the windbreaks closest to the buildings. Remembering them makes me worry about the livestock and other animals that are outside in this weather, and the people who are working outside doing important, necessary things that are made very difficult by the cold.

I'm also a little worried about the electricity which has blinked six times tonight so far. Wind gusts are blowing something against the wires and creating a short circuit somewhere, I suspect. We have plenty of flashlight batteries and lamp oil, but I hope we don't need them. Pennyrile Electric posted on Facebook a few minutes ago that they have power outages affecting over 1200 members.

Earlier today, a Sunday School song (Psalms 118:24) came to mind: "This is the day that the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." I am glad tonight, most of all for warmth and shelter. And, while it's a little hard to rejoice, I do respect and honor the Creator who put the mighty forces of nature in place and set them in motion.

Mr. Crawford Remembered

And a vintage sign removed...

This photo was taken in 2006.

Mr. Crawford's parents had operated a little country store in our neighborhood at one time, and Mr. Crawford inherited the property. One day, he quit his bank job in town and moved into the store building.  He lived a very simple life there, without running water or electricity. In the yard around the old store, he had lots of little gardening spots where he grew grapes and flowers and heirloom tomatoes.

During those years, I worked part-time in another little country store in the neighborhood (also now closed), and Mr. Crawford came to the store every now and then to eat a sandwich and visit with anyone who was there. I passed along to him a big stack of old Organic Gardening magazines that my brother-in-law had given me, and he read (studied!) them cover-to-cover and loved to discuss the gardening ideas in them.

Then Mr. Crawford moved away. He said that he couldn't take the stench of the big new chicken barn across the creek any longer. About that same time, I started working in town. So our paths didn't cross anymore, and I don't believe I ever saw Mr. Crawford again. He passed away last Christmas. I read about it in the newspaper.

Not long after his death, someone removed the Pepsi-Cola sign from the old store building. Maybe the sign was kept by a family member -- I hope so. Or maybe someone took it for their private collection, or maybe, since it was a metal sign, it ended up at a salvage yard. Whatever the case, I doubt it will be seen again by the general public.

I still see the little store building as I drive down the road to and from my home, and it always makes me think of Mr. Crawford. He was kindly and intelligent, and I'm sorry that he's gone on.

The Little Graveyard on the Ridge

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

Perhaps a quarter mile off the road, a small country graveyard sits at the top of a little ridge. When I spotted that old family cemetery not long after we moved here, I decided that, "one of these days," I was going to walk through it. But time flew by, as it does, and so it was five years later, when I finally stopped one day at the house below the cemetery and asked permission to visit.

The silver-haired lady who answered my knock was pleased about my interest in the graveyard. She walked to the pasture gate with me, showed me the least "washed-out" route to take up the hillside, and cautioned my sidekicks, Keely and Isaac, to beware the poison ivy around the graveyard fence.

We bounced up the hill on a trail that was obviously more traveled by cattle than vehicles. As we pulled up to the cemetery, I saw immediately that it was well-maintained and very tidy.  An overgrowth of vines had made the fence into a solid wall of tangled foliage, but the grass inside was neatly cut, and the gate was in good repair. No graves were embarrassed by fallen headstones or weatherbeaten artificial flowers.

Photographs by Melissa Wiesse.

Many of the surnames on the stones were from a half-dozen families. I recognized some names as possible ancestors of families who still lived in Christian County. The dates on the stones spanned nearly two centuries, from a birth in 1778 to a death in l971.  Many of the tombstones stated that the loved one was "Asleep in Jesus." One man was a Confederate soldier. Another was born in County Down, Ireland. In all, there were 50 or 60 graves.

I decided that the cemetery was officially established in the 1860s or 1870s. Perhaps there were already unmarked family graves there when the first graves with tombstones were made. Looking over the cemetery fence from the hillside, I tried to imagine the valley when the blacktop road was a dirt trail, the fences were made of split rail, and the log cabins were marked by plumes of smoke. Surely the cemetery's site was chosen for its fine view in addition to its high-and-dry location.

Photo by Tony Alter.

A majestic old oak grew in one corner. The ground under it was covered with acorns and early-fallen leaves. A half-dozen squirrels were shocked, just shocked, when we interrupted their nut harvest with our presence.

Near the center of the cemetery, a huge stump bore witness to another tree that once grew there. It was a good six feet in diameter at its widest point. This estimate was provided by Keely who stretched out full length across it. At one time, this giant's branches must have shaded most of the little cemetery.

Keely and Isaac were impatient to return to modern life well before I finished reading the stones. When we finally drove back down the hill and closed the gate to the pasture, the little lady came out to talk again. She had been waiting for us. "Did you see anyone you knew up there?" she wanted to know.

I told her that I had recognized some of the family names, and she said that most of the people in the cemetery were from her husband's family. Had I seen this gravestone and that one? One young fellow had commited suicide after World War I. Her husband's mother was the young woman buried with twin babies. Another man and his wife had lived in a big log house that she remembered from childhood. She knew the life story beneath each headstone.

I commented on the huge tree stump, and she told me that it had been another oak tree. It had fallen in the cemetery during a windstorm, but her son had cleaned it up. Then she began to talk about her great fear -- would the cemetery be cared for in future years? Her son, in his late fifties, did all the upkeep. It seemed he was the main person who was interested. Though most of the graves "belonged" to families who still lived in the county, no one else helped with the maintenance. She had buried her husband in town a few years ago because she feared his grave wouldn't be tended up on the hillside.

Photo by Justin A. Wilcox

The thought of brambles and trees taking over the graveyard grieved this lady. I was touched by her desire to honor the graves of her husband's people. Talking to her was a memorable and moving experience. Most of my visits to old graveyards don't include the opportunity to speak with someone who has a personal connection to the people buried there.

When I got home that day, I wrote a short account of my visit to the cemetery on the ridge. A few days ago, I stumbled upon that little story in some old computer files, and I thought that the things I had written still spoke to my heart. I decided to edit it a little and share it. That's the story behind this story.

Related photos on Flickr:
Squirrels in cemeteries
Gravestone details
Historic cemeteries

Junkyard Cat

Saved at the salvage yard

Our son had some trouble with his car, and his mechanic advised him that a used part would make the repair a lot cheaper. He couldn't take off time from his job, so I volunteered to get the part. I inquired by telephone at some salvage yards and finally found a compatible vehicle at Arrow Salvage at Nortonville, Kentucky.

"We don't take parts off cars without a deposit," the man on the phone told me. So I drove up there to make a down payment.

Nortonville is a small town in southern Hopkins County, about 45 miles from where I live in Christian County. Arrow Salvage is a few miles west of Nortonville on a small highway that winds through the hills to Dawson Springs.

I was a little worried about finding the salvage yard, but it had a huge sign painted on the side of an old semi trailer. Then I wasn't sure whether the sign really meant I should turn on the extremely wide road with a coal mine sign and a half-closed gate. But yes, that was the right road, and it led to the discontinued coal mine which is the site of Arrow Salvage.

Apparently when the coal mine ceased operation, the big crane and some other equipment were left in place. Arrow Salvage recycles cars, steel, aluminum, copper, and brass (according to their sign on the highway) so maybe they'll eventually pull down that machinery and recycle it.

Inside the little office, the boss was on the phone with someone who wanted parts for a car. A black and white kitten was playing around the legs of his desk. As I waited, my shoelaces caught the kitten's eye, and he attacked them vigorously. To divert his attention, I scooped him up and tried to pet him. He didn't have any patience for that, so I picked up a flyswatter and convinced him that he should play with it instead of my feet.

The boss finally terminated his phone call. "Sorry about that," he said. "Sometimes they have to tell you their life story." As he was writing the receipt for my deposit, I told him I liked his kitten.

"That cat!" he said, and told me its story. The kitten showed up on the steps of the office one day. Maybe someone gave him a little food. Anyway, the kitten decided that was his home, and he was there every day playing around the building.

Then one day, an elderly lady came to the salvage yard, and she tried to make friends with the kitten. He was feeling frisky, and he nipped her finger with his sharp little teeth, as kittens are prone to do. The lady bled a little, but the boss thought it was a minor injury. "You know how old folks bleed real easy," he told me, and I agreed that we do.

But the lady didn't take her injury so lightly. She went home and called the Health Department, and some workers drove out to the salvage yard to investigate. It made the man mad because the little kitten was innocent. He had only been playing, and he wasn't sick. They wanted to know if it was his cat. He told them, "No, but by gosh, it's going to be."

So the kitten went to the vet where it was observed for a period of time. At the end of its quarantine, the vet pronounced it healthy and gave it the vaccinations it needed, and the man paid the bill and brought his kitten back home to the salvage yard.

As I drove home, I pondered how the kitten had won the friendship of a busy man who runs a metal salvage business and doesn't take parts off cars without a deposit.

The next day, I drove back to the salvage yard to pick up the part. The sun was shining brightly, and the air was pleasantly cool. The boss and another worker had a pickup truck and trailer parked beside the office, and they were working on the truck. The kitten wasn't in the office when I paid the remaining balance for the part, so I asked about him. "He's out there in the trailer, and he's feeling real frisky this morning," the boss said.

"Feeling real frisky" meant that the kitten was climbing the slats of the trailer and reaching out to snag anything that came within range. I managed to get a couple of wild-eyed photos of him. They don't do him justice. He really is a beautiful little creature -- sleek and lithe and overflowing with the joy of life.

Great Barbecue for a Purpose

 Pioneers Inc. of Hopkinsville, KY

Summer wouldn't be complete without barbecue, and I love the barbecue made by Pioneers, Inc. in Hopkinsville. Keely drives by their billboard on North Main Street as she goes to work, so she keeps me updated on their barbecue schedule -- always on Friday, but not every Friday.

Pioneers Inc. is a busy volunteer group, and barbecue is one of their fund-raising activities. The Pioneers are locally famous for delicious, homestyle food. If you ever have the good fortune to be invited to an event that they cater, you would be a fool to refuse the invitation.

The line for barbecue at the Pioneers' Smith Pavilion is always an interesting cross-section of the local population. A volunteer behind the window at left takes orders and payments. Then the customers wait a few minutes for their orders to be handed to them through the window at right.  It's not a fast process, but the line does move, and the wait is absolutely worthwhile.

The menu has a variety of sandwiches, sides, and meats for carry-out or eat-in (at the picnic tables.) I usually get a pound or two of the barbecued pork to take home. Keely and Taurus like to keep some Pioneers barbecue sauce on hand.

At work, earlier in the day that I took these pictures, an elderly lady told me that she was expecting overnight guests. She described all the work she had done to get her house ready, and I asked her if she was doing a lot of cooking, too. "No," she said. "I've already made potato salad, and I'm going to buy a pound of barbecue."

"Are you going to get some Pioneers?" I asked her. "Oh, I wish I could!  That would be so nice!" she said. "Are they cooking this weekend?" I assured her that they were, and she thanked me profusely. She even came by a few days later to thank me again.  "Thank the Pioneers, not me," I told her. That's the sort of respect that Pioneers' barbecue gets around here.

Pioneers Inc., a civic group of Christian black men, was organized in 1952. The income from their projects goes to college scholarships, Christmas gifts and food baskets for needy families, and other community projects and needs. I think of their barbecue as one more nice thing that they do for the community.

400 Mile Yard Sale, 2012

Photos from the 15 miles we shopped

Keely and I spent most of Saturday visiting a small portion of Kentucky's 400 Mile Yard Sale along Highway 68/80. We got started about 8:00 a.m., and before we drove out on Highway 68/80, we went to a few yard sales around town.

I photographed these lovely hydrangeas while we were at an estate tag sale. The lady who was running the sale had marked each item slightly under its appraised price, and she was reluctant to negotiate. The house was crowded with shoppers, but everyone was leaving empty-handed.

Well, enough of that!  We decided to hit the highway!

Down in the Ditch

Where the mower doesn't go

Our Mennonite neighbor has several small businesses and dealerships in addition to his farming operations. Along the highway beside our two mailboxes, he has several signs advertising these enterprises.

Every Saturday, one of his sons mows both sides of our shared lane, from their house, past our house, down to the highway, around the mailboxes and signs, and along the highway for fifty feet or more in both directions. One of our neighbor's sidelines is lawn mower repair, so he probably thinks that keeping the grass cut short is a good business practice.

But down by the mailbox, on the banks of the ditch, where the lawn mower doesn't go, all the plants are growing wildly. I enjoy seeing them.

And I like the little pool of water that stands in the ditch in the springtime. It's interesting. When I stop to get the mail or go for a walk down our road, I stand at the end of the culvert and peer down into the shady depths. Sometimes I see a frog or a turtle or a crawdad enjoying the water.

But even when I see something interesting, I don't go any closer. I like to look at all that vegetation on the ditch banks, but I don't want to wade through it.  There's too much poison ivy!

Good People

I do use this oil.

Willing to help

Yesterday, I filled my car with gas and checked the oil. The dipstick showed that the oil was a little low, so I stopped at Walmart and bought a quart. Back in the parking lot, I raised the hood of my car. It didn't offend my sense of class to add oil then and there, and besides, I was afraid I'd forget if I waited.

During the few moments that I stood in front of my car with the hood up, I was asked three times if I needed help. The first people who approached me were a black couple about my age, who parked their pickup truck nearby. The next person was a white-haired man who came out of the store and got into his little sports car. And the third person was a tall young fellow with a tattoo on his neck.

I thanked them each, and I'm still warmed by their unexpected kindness.

While typing this, I remembered a similar incident. I often clip my purse to the cart with a carabiner when I am shopping. One evening, I was ready to wheel my groceries out to my car, but I was having trouble getting my purse unclipped. I had hooked the carabiner to a small slot in the cart that was awkward to reach.

One of the Kroger employees, a girl who was bringing in a big line of shopping carts from the parking lot, saw me fumbling as I stood by the door. "Are you all right, ma'am? Do you need help?" she asked.

About that time, I finally got the carabiner detached. I felt silly, but I genuinely appreciated her friendly offer to assist, and I thanked her for it.

I think we are blessed with a solid core of kind-hearted, decent people here in Christian County, Kentucky.

I like that explanation much better than the possibility that I look so incompetent that strangers pity me!

Lists for the Season

In case you're listless...

A lost list
Photo by Jem Yoshioka

I enjoy finding a shopping list that someone has lost or left behind. Yes, I'm snoopy, but I prefer to say that I'm curious because it sounds a little better.  Here are some lists I've found over the past few months.

This list was written on a pink notebook page with a butterfly at the top. Uh oh -- looks like someone has one of the bugs that are going around.

Kleenex
milk
bread
Tylenol
Vicks
Nyquil
Zyrtec
tea
cereal

Here's a well-organized list written by an energetic person. (I know the writer is energetic because everything you buy at a paint store requires energy.) Every word in this list is capitalized.

1. Meds
2. Aldis
        - Yoghurt
        - Pineapple
        - Milk
        - Chicken Salad
        - T/P
        - Clementines
3. K-Mart
4. Sherwin Williams
5. Electric Bill

This list was written on a long narrow sheet of paper with this quotation at the top: "The path to happiness is paved with kind words and loving deed... DON'T FORGET..."

Bread
OJ
lemonade
balogna
cookies
ice cream
chips
fruit
sausage
feta
hummus
cheddar block
triscuits
swiss cheese
cigarettes

* put check in bank

The following list is written in pencil on a scrap of white paper. The writing is very small. Maybe that's so the list will fit into the available space. Maybe the list-maker had some coupons to use for these name-brand products. And I am sure that he or she knew what was needed at WalMart, even if I don't.

Libman short dish brush
Dreamfield lasagna
Colgate toothbrush
Coke Zero
celery
bacon bits
arugula
pine nuts
lemons
prosciutto
cauliflower
______________
Lowes--white plugs
WMart--ret pots

Image from The Graphics Fairy

Usually, the act of writing down what I need helps me remember, even if I forget to take the list with me. I hope that's true for the person who lost this Christmas shopping list. I wouldn't want anyone to be forgotten.

Christmas cards
wooden spoons for April
head set for Harvey
socks for Brian
tricycle
kitchen towels Jason
white towels April
camera case April
heating pad Jason
MP3 Harvey
socks & underwear Brian
Gift cards Brad, Lilly, Ellen, Randy, Janeen

I hope you are getting your shopping done so you can enjoy the season!

A Yard Sale Extravaganza

400-Mile Yard Sale, 2011

This weekend, Kentucky's 400-Mile Yard Sale is taking place along Highway 68/80, a route that passes through Christian County. Keely and I drove out to some sales this afternoon, along the highway east of Hopkinsville.

The Eastview Baptist Church had been advertising on their marquis for several weeks that anyone could set up a yard sale there for free. Today, their property looked like a flea market with a church in one corner. It was full of tents and tables of merchandise! When we arrived, the parking lot was packed with cars, and between sellers and buyers, there must have been 150 people (or more) on the grounds.

When we pulled into the church driveway, a lady welcomed us, invited us to use the restrooms and to get a drink of cold water in the air-conditioned church, and handed us a bright yellow packet. Inside the packet, we found a flyer about Eastview, helpful information about the garage sale, a religious tract, and a free pen.

We heard music playing as we got out of the car, and soon we saw that a band was performing. They played a rock-n-roll version of "This Little Light of Mine" that I really enjoyed. When I looked at the information in the packet this evening, I learned that the band's name is Second Coming. Two more bands -- Mark 'N' Friends and The Glovers -- performed at other times during the day.

Keely bought an entire box of books by a favorite author, and I bought a cookbook. Then we sat in the shade, where a little breeze was stirring the air, and enjoyed the band for a few minutes. Unfortunately, the temperature was in the mid-90s, so we didn't shop or listen as long as we would have liked. It was just too hot!

As a visitor to the yard sale and as a fellow Christian, I give Eastview an A+ for this event. They did a great job of personally greeting us, placing an attractive pack of information in our hands, providing adequate parking, caring about our physical needs, organizing the marketplace, and even offering entertainment to entice us to linger.

Well done, my Baptist friends! I hope you'll do this again next year!

I took several photos of the band, but I didn't get a
single one that shows every band member!

Honeysuckle and Old-time Roses

June blooms in central Kentucky

Honeysuckle and an old rose grow intertwined around the tall stump of an old cedar tree in our yard. It's June, and for now, they are making up for all their faults. The roses are a profusion of bright color, and the honeysuckle has a lovely fragrance.

This rose is an uncivilized semi-climber that probably dates back to the log cabin on this property. Some might call it an heirloom rose, but I call it an opportunist. With any encouragement, it throws out canes that are 15 feet or more in length. Wherever the canes touch dirt, they root down, and a new rose plant grows.

I once made the mistake of transplanting a cutting of this rose to a flower bed. After just one season of a softer life, thorny rose stems were sprawling off their pole teepee and rooting down everywhere.  I had to dig it out, and it took me a couple of years to fully eradicate rose sprouts from the area. I learned my lesson! This rose is doing quite well enough in the spot where it has always grown! It needs some stress and regular encounters with the lawn mower to keep it in check.

Honeysuckle is one of the most invasive non-native plants in Kentucky.  We have a big problem with it in our yard. It loves to get in the shrubbery and climb to the top where it can thrive in the sunshine. Before long, the health of the shrubs begins to suffer from sunshine-deprivation and the weight of the honeysuckle vines.

One way of controlling honeysuckle is to cut the base of the vine and spray it with Roundup. Then you can try to pull the vines down, but it's a difficult chore. Honeysuckle is a twiner, which means that the vines wind around and around whatever they're climbing.  I am sure I would never be able to separate the honeysuckle vines and rose vines that you see in the photo!

A Mine Camp Childhood

Memories shared

Today, I asked one of my elderly customers if she had lived in Christian County (KY) all her life. My question was the only invitation she needed to tell me about her childhood.

Her family lived near Crofton (KY) when she was a little child. Her father was a coal miner. He walked six miles every morning from their home to a mine in the Mannington area. He worked all day in the mine, and then he walked another six miles back home each night.

Later on, they lived in a coal camp (in Hopkins County, KY, if I understood correctly). All the houses in the camp were owned by the mine. Everyone in the little town knew each other. It was almost like a big family. The kids all went to school together and played together, as children do.

The coal was pulled out of the mine in cars pulled by little mules. Her father was paid in scrip, instead of money, and the company store in their little coal camp was the only place where they could buy anything.

One time, there were problems related to the labor union. If I understood the lady's story correctly, labor organizers were trying to get the men to join the union. At any rate, all the men who were union members and their families were evicted from the company houses. Her family spent a winter in a tent provided by the union. They had a wood stove in their tent, but when the wind blew wrong, the tent filled up with smoke. Nonetheless, they made it through that winter.

"I have good memories of the coal camp," she told me. I wished I could have heard more of her stories, but unfortunately, I'm not paid to interview the customers. I told her I had enjoyed talking to her, and she should write down some of her memories. Her grandchildren would enjoy reading them someday.

I think these stories are probably from the 1930s. I know this lady's daughter, and she's a little younger than me. My mother was born in the 1920s, so this lady was probably born in the 1930s.

Christmas Festivities Reported, 1875

Holiday happenings in Garrettsburg, Pleasant Grove, Bennettstown, and Montgomery

On January 15, 1875, the Kentucky New Era of Hopkinsville, KY, published a "Garrettsburg Letter" on its front page. The letter was written by a correspondent from Garrettsburg who signed himself simply as "P." It was dated 136 years ago, today -- January 9, 1875. The following is an excerpt:

The Christmas Holidays in our city passed off tolerably pleasant and without any serious accidents which is to be wondered at considering the amount of spirits floating around loose and the number of pugnacious young gentlemen upon their muscle.

The quality and not the quantity of our whisky is to blame, for you take a drink of it upon the first dawning of Christmas day, and the effects thereof depart not, until the close of the day upon which the dying year tells its last tale. This must be so, for I saw a young man on Thursday evening who told me he had not tasted a drop of the "Creetar" since Friday morning, and lo! he was then three sheets in the wind. One more drink of the same sort, taken straight, will carry him to harvest time.

But Christmas is gone and "Our Boys" have quit their frolicsome ways, washed the dirt from their faces, bathed their swollen eyes, and with healing plaster sticking all over their battered noses, have gone to work in earnest swearing they "will never get drunk any more." Until next Christmas.

Source: January 15, 1875, Kentucky New Era, page 1.

Garrettsburg was a hamlet in southern Christian County, about halfway between present-day Oak Grove and Lafayette.

I wonder if the whiskey at Garrettsburg was bought by the bottle or made by the jug. In plainer words, was it legal whiskey or was it locally-produced moonshine? The Federal government imposed a national excise tax on whiskey in 1862, but small-scale Kentucky distillers widely ignored it.



The Kentucky New Era's front page also includes a "Pleasant Grove Letter" from correspondent "Hiram". He described a wild Christmas celebration in that community.

Christmas came along about the 25th of December, bringing with it the usual supply of fire crackers, egg-nog &c, and went -- well, we were not in a condition much of the time to tell exactly how it did go. We know this much, that the night air was made hideous by the neighing of studs, peals of laughter, and the endless pop, pop of guns. All Pondriverans know how to shoot a gun accurately. In fact, the man who lives 'mid these hills and does not own a yellow dog and a gun is hardly respectable.

Source: January 15, 1875, Kentucky New Era, page 1.

Based on Hiram's comment about "Pondriverans", I looked for Pleasant Grove along the various forks of the Pond River of northern Christian and adjacent counties, but I wasn't able to locate it. I did find a Pleasant Grove Road in Christian County southwest of Crofton, but it's a significant distance from there to any fork of the Pond River. I may be seeking a clue where none exists -- perhaps when Hiram wrote about the "endless pop, pop of guns", it reminded him that Pond River folk were good shots, so he wrote that too.



Bennettstown was a small village, just a few miles northeast of present-day Lafayette in Christian County, KY. If holiday festivities in that community were rowdy, it was not reported by correspondent "Tacitus" who wrote the "Bennettstown Letter".

Christmas has come and gone with about its usual festivities. We had a great many parties, which were attended by the many beaux and belles of our city and vicinity, and if you have any doubts Mr. Editor, of the asserition in my last letter, "that we could beat the world for pretty girls," just by way of variety drop in some time when you are in our section at Capt. Cooper's or Squire McKenzie's or any where else around (we mean upon business) and see if we are not correct.

Source: January 15, 1875, Kentucky New Era, page 2.

Montgomery was located in Trigg County, just west of the present-day intersection of Highway 68/80 and Interstate 24. Correspondent "Jim Jay" described an orderly Christmas celebration in his "Montgomery Items".

We of this little town ushered in the Christmas holidays on Christmas eve by a nice Christmas tree... [unreadable]... with all kinds of fruit in the dry goods and notion line; on which occasion your humble correspondent was remembered by a liberal supply of gifts. In connection therewith we had a concert which is something new in this village. All were pleased, feeling that Montgomery can do what she undertakes and that well. We propose to get up a "Thespian society" and "Minstrel performance" to give monthly entertainments.

Source: January 15, 1875, Kentucky New Era, page 2.

A regularly-performing theater group sounds like a great way to keep the guys busy, out of trouble, and away from the whisky and guns!

Moonshine still at the McCreary County Museum
in Stearns, Kentucky.

I have taken the liberty of breaking a long single paragraph in the "Garrettsburg Letter" into three shorter paragraphs.

Photo credits: Moonshine still by Brian Stansberry (Own work). CC-BY-3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.
19th-century whisky bottle by National Park Service.

Resistance Is Futile

That machine in front of Kroger

I was visiting with my neighbor Sally a few weeks ago, and I mentioned that Blockbuster Video was having financial problems. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed, visibly distressed.

"Yes," I said. "It seems that Blockbuster has been hurt by Redbox and Netflix. It's just not getting enough business to turn a profit."

"If we lose Blockbuster, we won't have a video rental store in Hopkinsville." Sally paused to imagine that situation. "Just what is that Netflix?" she demanded.

I explained Netflix the best I could, from my own second-hand knowledge. People subscribe to Netflix online. They choose movies from a huge list, and Netflix delivers the movies by mail. People find the service convenient and affordable.

"So, you have to own a computer," Sally said with disgust. "Well, I don't have one, and I don't want one! Going to the video store is part of what I really enjoy about renting a movie!"

"...that machine in front of Kroger"

"If Blockbuster closes," she continued, "the only place left to rent a movie will be that machine in front of Kroger. I don't want to rent a movie from a machine on a sidewalk. I want to go to a video store." (The machine in front of Kroger is, in fact, a Redbox, part of the competition that is giving Blockbuster so much trouble.)

So far, Blockbuster in Hopkinsville is still open, and I hope that Sally is renting enough movies to help it stay in business. However, when I won a $5 Blockbuster gift card at work recently, I decided to spend it right away, just in case our store closes. I didn't want the hassle of renting and returning a movie, so I just got $5 of microwave popcorn packets.

The law of supply and demand is at work here. Blockbuster is in financial trouble because many people have decided that lower prices and convenience are more desirable than a shopping experience in a store. The internet has played a part in that change.

I feel a little sad for Sally.  She has set her mind against having a computer. She could easily afford one, but maybe she is afraid she couldn't learn to use it. I don't think she'd have much trouble. She has mastered her DVD/VCR player and her satellite TV. Turning on the computer and getting on the internet is hardly that complicated.

Or maybe Sally has taken her anti-computer stance solely as a protest to unwanted change. Well, she can decide that she won't participate, but that won't stop computers and computerized machines from changing things.

Decades of Beauty Contests

History of beauty pageants at the Hopkinsville Fair

Links in this article go to Kentucky New Era articles from years past, as found in Google's newspaper archives.

In 1988, Hopkinsville's newspaper, the Kentucky New Era, published a history of the Western Kentucky State Fair, written by historian William Turner. Turner wrote that the first agricultural fairs in Hopkinsville were held annually from 1857 to 1860. After the War Between the States, the fairs continued from 1869-1886. A property in the area of lst and Vine Streets was used as the fairgrounds.

After that fair folded, several other associations held fairs in or near Hopkinsville, according to Turner. None of the fairs had a run of more than five years, until the Pennyroyal Fair began in 1913 and carried on through 1926. Some of our older citizens probably remember this fair from their childhood days. It was held on a property on the Palmyra Road (now South Virginia Street).

Turner wrote that a "Miss Pennyroyal Fair queen" was crowned each year. If so, the chosen ladies were probably the first fair queens in Hopkinsville. I haven't been able to find any newspaper articles of the period to verify the selection of a fair queen in those years, but I take the word of our well-respected and much-beloved county historian.  He has many documents and other resources available to him, and he has spent his life acquiring an extensive knowledge of our local history.

After the Pennyroyal Fair died out in the mid-1920s, Hopkinsville went without a fair for over a decade. (There may have been street markets or other sorts of festivals, but no fairs were held where people exhibited plants and animals they had raised.)

Then, from 1938 to 1941, an annual agricultural fair was sponsored by the Hopkinsville Chamber of Congress. It was held in a large tobacco facility on Young Street. Mr. Turner does not mention any queens of this fair, and I did not find any mention of fair queens in the newspapers of those years. But who needed a beauty pageant, anyway, when the fair's local talent contest featured jitterbuggers, hillbilly musicians, and more?

The first Hopkinsville fairs after World War II -- 1946, 1947, 1948, and 1949 --were held at the Blue Lantern Farm, just west of Hopkinsville. Popularity queens were crowned at the fairs in 1948 (see page 7 for a photo of the contestants) and 1949. Apparently, the contestant with the most votes won the title of Queen. I am not sure how the elections were conducted.

In 1951, the Pennyroyal Fair, predecessor of today's Western Kentucky State Fair, was held for the first time. The festivities included a beauty contest won by Jo Nell Turner of Pembroke, the first of many beauty queens at the fair.  In the Kentucky New Era report from the fair of 1952, the winner is titled a  "Beauty Queen". The first few Pennyroyal Fairs of the 1950s (and their beauty contests) were held at tobacco loose floors in Hopkinsville, until the Fire Marshall ruled out such locations.  A large site on Richards Street was purchased in 1954 as a home for future fairs.

The beauty contests at the fairs of the early fifties established an unbroken tradition of beauty contests at Hopkinsville fairs. However, beauty contests were not new when the fair started having them. Many beauty contests were held in Hopkinsville and around Christian County in the 1930s, including a mock beauty contest for men, held at Hopkinsville's Alhambra Theater.

The Pennyroyal Fair was reorganized as the Western Kentucky State Fair in the early 1960s, and the title of the beauty queens was changed to "Miss Western Kentucky State Fair" (often shortened to Miss WKSF, when written). I didn't find any mention of the Mrs. Western Kentucky State Fair competitionin the Kentucky New Era until the 1980s. However, mother/daughter and father/son look-alike contests were held at earlier fairs. The Mrs. contest may have been an outgrowth of the look-alike contests, or it may have been related to the national Mrs. America contest.

In 1977, the Pioneers Club of Hopkinsville (a civic-minded local fraternity of mostly black men) sponsored the first Miss Black Western Kentucky pageant. The winner represented the Pioneers later that year in the Miss Western Kentucky State Fair contest. The Pioneers' annual competitions for Miss Black Western Kentucky continued through 2004.

For the youngest of beauties, a "baby contest" was held at the fair as early as 1913 -- a baby health contest, that is. The article suggested that the beauty of the baby might affect the decision of the judges because healthy babies are naturally beautiful. It also stated that the baby show was "an old story at state and county fairs", so the 1913 contest was probably not the first one in Christian County.  That tradition is still carried on, nearly 100 years later, at the Western Kentucky State Fair where there are baby pageants every year.

It may be 2010, but people are still asking, "Who's the fairest of them all?" And the answer is different every year.

A Creek Not Forded

Time to turn around

I took a backroad in northwestern Todd County today, and came upon the creek in the photograph above. I've crossed it before in the summer when the weather was hot and dry, and the water was only a few inches deep.

Today, I didn't have the nerve to ford it. The water was nearly still, but the creek was much wider than usual,and I was afraid it was deeper, too.

If my low-sitting little car stalled in the water -- well, I could imagine some unpleasant scenarios. I would probably get wet, muddy, and cold. I would have to climb all the way out of the ravine before my cell phone might work, and if I had to walk back to the nearest house, it would be a couple of miles.

I cautiously backed my car uphill to a slightly wider place in the road and turned around. It took several maneuvers because I was afraid to get the wheels into the muddy ditches. Finally, I was headed in the opposite direction, and before long, I was back to the same highway I had left 20 minutes before.

No progress toward my destination was made on that sidetrip, but I learned a little lesson about creek fords in winter.

Tobacco Curing in the Barn

A familiar autumn scene in Kentucky

This barn has tobacco hanging in it, visible through the doors. This is almost certainly burley tobacco, a variety that has light colored leaves; however, dark tobacco is sometimes air-cured also. The curing process typically lasts for a couple of months, It creates a dried leaf that is high in nicotine and low in sugar. When the weather gets a little colder, farmers will be removing the leaves from the stalks, packing and binding them into bales, and sending the finished product to the factory.

Update: This afternoon, I saw a farmer in his pickup truck, pulling a big trailer-load of tobacco stems. So that means that tobacco stripping is already under way.

"Quilt Barn" in Christian County, KY

Quilts and fabric in Kentucky Mennonite country.

This barn stands along Highway 68/80, east of Hopkinsville, KY. The "quilt block" on its front has been there for several years. It was painted, I believe, by a local economic development agency that had a "quilt barns" grant from the Kentucky Arts Council. The quilt barns are supposed to look folksy, promote tourism, and encourage a better appreciation of our quilting heritage and history.

I could be wrong about how this quilt square came to be. It appeared during the quilt barn explosion. Quilt blocks were painted on a few dozen highly-visible barns in several counties, and then lots of barns suddenly had quilt squares painted on them. Property owners liked the look so much that they started quilt-blocking their barns, at their own expense. The quilt barn idea "went viral", as they say on the internet.

I'm don't know who owns this barn, but I do know who owns the sign on its side wall. Mrs. Amman Snyder, a Mennonite lady, had her "Quilts" sign on the barn even before the quilt block was painted on it. She has a quilt shop at her home, about a mile down Highway 1027. When I worked in classified ads at our local newspaper, I helped her with her occasional quilt sale advertisements.

Mrs. Snyder has recently added fabric to her shop. She is responding to published reports that WalMart will soon be eliminating its fabric departments. The Mennonite ladies of Christian County have been regular fabric customers in Hopkinsville's Walmart. They'll need another fabric source if they can't buy it at WalMart any more.

Last year, my Mennonite neighbor Elsie told me that I should open a little neighborhood fabric store. She thought I could put it in the upstairs room of our shed. I entertained the idea for about 10 seconds, and during that short time, I had vivid imaginations of owning dozens of bolts of cloth that no one wanted to buy.

Mrs. Snyder will be a much better cloth merchant than I would be. She knows from personal experience what sorts of fabric and sewing notions the Mennonite ladies want and need. She's open for business to the "English" as well -- her signs on the highway proclaim it.

Hitting the Garage Sale Trail

Saturday morning entertainment

Relay for Life Yard sale at Town and Country

Real Estate in Hopkinsville, KY

Usually I enjoy sleeping late on my day off, but this morning, I got up early so I could go to some Saturday morning yard sales with Keely and my friend Lisa. I picked up Keely at 7:15 AM, and we stopped at a convenience store to get coffee and Whistlestop donuts (breakfast) on our way to pick up Lisa.

Last night, I studied yard sale ads in the newspaper, looked up the addresses I didn't know, and planned a route. We went to most of the sales that were advertised and added a few that we found along the way. Keely and I estimate that we went to about 25 sales in 4 hours.

My rewards for getting up early were a metal rooster doorstop, a set of 10 Bible storybooks (the same set that I read as a child), 3 pairs of brand-new jeans for Dennis ($2 per pair!), and a nice hexagonal mirror I'm going to hang in the bathroom. Keely bought a fiber optic lamp, a set of fairy figurines, and a mushroom-shaped cookie jar. Lisa bought a CB radio and a set of ping-pong paddles.

Most of Hopkinsville's yard sales start at 6 AM and end at noon. We saw one lady packing up her sale at 11:00 AM! I'm not sure why Hopkinsville is fond of such an early schedule. In other towns, yard sales commonly stay open until mid-afternoon.

Next weekend (Thursday through Sunday, June 4-7) is the 400 Mile Sale along Kentucky Highway 68. Dozens of sales will be held in and around Hopkinsville, and many more will be set up along 68/80 through Christian County and beyond.

I read that the Senior Center is renting 400 Mile Sale spaces for $30 each -- in their big multi-purpose room, I suppose. I think that might be a good sale to check. My theory: When people have to pack up their stuff and haul it to the sale, they leave the junk at home and only bring the good stuff.

Whistlestop Donuts

New donut shop in Hopkinsville

Hopkinsville has a new donut drive-through and everyone is talking about it. Its name is Whistlestop Donuts, and it's named for its location on 9th Street, near the train tracks.

Word-of-mouth advertising is working very well for Whistlestop Donuts. A dozen people have told me how good the donuts are. I've read about Whistlestop donuts on the Hoptown Hall. Several of the convenience stores have started carrying Whistlestop donuts. Isaac mentioned that one of the managers had brought Whistlestops to work and put them in the break-room.

Tonight, as I drove a co-worker home from work, I passed Whistlestop's little building. The neon "Open" sign was glowing, and several cars were waiting in line at the drive-through window.

When I came down that street again on my way home, I yielded to temptation. After all, I just finished working six days in a row and taking care of the neighbor ladies' seven dogs for several days. I deserved a donut (or two.)

"I've never been here before, and I don't know what to get," I told the girl at the window. "Tell me what I want."

"You want a dozen," she told me firmly, and she began listing the choices. Donuts, Bismarcks, cinnamon rolls, Long Johns, apple fritters, chocolate, cream cheese, vanilla, raspberry, lemon. They all sounded good. "Just give me an assortment," I finally said.

She took a box and went to the other side of the room. I watched her filling the box from big trays on a baker's rack. Soon she was back. "You're gonna love 'em, honey," she promised, as she gave me the box.

On the way home, I called Isaac who was also getting off work. "I've been to the Evil One," I told him. "What, WalMart?" he asked.

"No, I've been to Whistlestop Donuts and bought a dozen," I confessed. Isaac was surprised and happy. "Really?! I'm going to have some when I get home!" That was my thought, as well.

And I agree with everyone else. They are good donuts. They are more substantial than yeast donuts usually are. They don't have large air pockets.

I think the girl at the Whistlestop window must like chocolate. Half of the doughnuts she put in the box had chocolate glaze. I was a little disappointed that she didn't put in a cream-cheese Bismarck, but that gives me an excuse to stop again, one of these days.