Kentucky Roots

When I was growing up I used to hear people say ,"Kentucky, the land of fast women and beautiful horses" (or was it the other way around?) I loved Kentucky. It was a beautiful place to grow up. And I was oblivious to the idea that almost everyone else in America veiwed us as dumb hillbillies where the women were barefoot and pregnant all the time and the men carried shotguns everywhere they went. "And Lord help the revenuer who sets foot on our property!"

While attending college (in KY I might add), I had the good fortune of meeting a fella from Illinois who later became my husband. He took me from that sheltered environment and moved me to his homeland. This was the first time I discovered we were the brunt of many of the jokes of people who lived outside our territory, in particular Illinoisans.

Now I have spent the past 20 years of my life trying to dispel the stereotypes of Kentuckians. It has been particularly difficult for me to get people to take me seriously since I have the added detriment of being a blond. But having worked my way through school obtaining first a bachelors degree then a masters degree, I thought I was finally making headway. That is until the events of this past week. In one shining moment, my parents anihalated all my hard work.

My sister called me the other day to tell me she had run into one of her neighbors who happens to work for the utility company. The same utility company that is in charge of the lines where my parents live (yes we had electricity where I grew up...and indoor plumbing, too)! Apparently, some of his employees had asked permission from my father to trim the trees around the power lines on their property. My father agreed to give them access if the power company would trim all the other trees on his property as well. Incredibly, they said they couldn't do that.

Well, a few days later the power company sent its workers out to trim the trees around the lines on my parents' property. As the rest of the world is aware, the utility companies don't need permission to access one's property for this purpose. I believe it's in a little clause called eavesment rights. Somehow, my father missed that memo. When he saw the men on his property, he went out and ran them off ( not politely I might add)!

A day or so passess and my sister's neighbor (the utility guy) goes to my parents' house to talk to them about trimming the trees. The polite gentleman knocks on the door and (are you ready?) my mother meets him at the front door with a loaded shotgun! He did sweet talk her enough to get the shotgun put on the table by the door but that was where the hospitlity stopped, still no access but I'm sure he got some new underwear out of the deal!

Oh, I forgot to mention why the man stopped my sister to begin with. He wanted to know if our parents are insane? Go figure, I guess because in Kentucky most people would meet you at the door with just a loaded pistol.