If you're in the area: John James Audubon in Henderson, Kentucky

I grew up in Henderson, Kentucky, but knew very little about John James Audubon State Park in my time there. I went to its picnic shelters every summer for family reunions, church socials and class parties. I swam in the lake a couple of times. I went with my elementary school class to what was then a small museum space that didn't have much in it. My parents would say that the park was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps and what a great program the CCC was, but I didn't really understand what they meant. To me, in the 1980s, the park was the place with lots of picnic shelters, with a lake to swim in, with the museum that, from the outside, looked like a beautiful fairy tale castle, and with a carriage house or something nearby that was never open except for the bathrooms. And a golf course I had never seen (and still haven't). It was nice... but not anything I ever recommended as a must-see place to visit. 

Here we are almost 40 years later and the park has been transformed into a wonderful destination and celebration of both the work of the CCC and conservationists, with a kick-your-butt back country trail and access to a lake that I only heard about as a kid (back then, I don't think there was an open trail to it). The cabins are beautiful and I believe they are open for rentals year-round. The main lake no longer has swimming, having been restored to make it more wildlife-friendly, but I believe you can take a kayak out on it.  

The museum space inside is GREATLY expanded with artifacts and information from the life of John James Audubon and why his work led to the creation of Audubon societies all over the world. There's also regular presentations inside about the importance of wildlife conservation and the wildlife of the area. That always-closed carriage house - actually, the Tea House - is now open and serves as the park's office (and it's totally worth it to visit - the woodwork is gorgeous). And events (hikes, presentations, workshops, art fetivals and more) abound - you need to follow the park on Facebook to be able to keep up. 

The trails are amazing. There's over six miles of trails, and some will have your calves screaming because of the inclines. We didn't get to do the expanded trails along the river, which you access outside the park on Warbler Road, next to the Ohio River, but we did do the backcountry trail and I'm still hurting from it. 

The trails do NOT allow dogs except for one, near the campground. But you can take your dog on all of the roads through the park, and that's a few miles of terrific, scenic exercise. Wish they had trails along the roads to make it safer for walking along them. 

The park now has reminders about the CCC everywhere: a statue, a couple of plaques, mentions in the museum, and more. My parents' mentions of the CCC have stuck with me all the years and, after studying the CCC in high school and at my university, I became a CCC fan girl: when I travel, I immediately notice CCC-built structures in parks and public spaces, and make a point of visiting any that might be nearby as I travel. I have a photo album tribute to the CCC, noting all of the CCC-built places I've been and memorabilia I've come across. 

We went to the park over two days: the first just to hike, and the second, to spend time in the museum. If you go, be sure to take some snacks and water - there's no restaurant in the park. 

The park is easy to turn into if you are coming from Henderson, but REALLY difficult to turn into if you are coming from Evansville, Indiana. Please be really, really cautious when turning in and out of the park onto Highway 41. 

With all that said, I do have some criticisms of the park. Here is an email I sent to the park manager, the head of Kentucky State Parks, and the Friends of Audubon State Park group after my November 2023 visit: 

I visited John James Audubon State Park during my Thanksgiving holiday in Kentucky. I haven’t been there since I was a teen - more than 40 years ago. The vastly expanded museum and hiking trails, the restored lake, the quality of the groundskeeping - it was amazing. I was particularly pleased to see so much information about and tributes to the Civilian Conservation Corps - that is a legacy I always knew, because of the park and because my father always noted it when I was growing up. I have followed the park on Facebook for years and knew the park now regularly had events - guided hikes, science talks, workshops for kids - but being onsite and seeing everything for myself, firsthand, really brought home what a treasure the park is now. Kudos to everyone who has, over many years, made this possible. Well done.

However, there are some things I feel compelled to note that need to be addressed urgently.

One thing that should be simple to fix: please put closed captioning on your films on rotation in your theater. This is a very easy fix, something anyone with video editing software could do for you. I bet there are students or faculty at area universities and colleges that would be happy to make this happen for you on a volunteer basis. This would help both the hearing impaired and people who are not native English speakers to better experience the films.

I was deeply disturbed by the lack of focus - even mention - in the museum that John James Audubon enslaved people and that he dismissed and belittled the abolitionist movement. When the Audubon family lived in Henderson, Kentucky, they had enslaved people working for them in their household, and they bought and sold enslaved people. Think of the families they broke up. Think of the lives they destroyed. This is all well documented on this web page of the National Audubon Society's own web site: https://www.audubon.org/news/the-myth-john-james-audubon

Why not reproduce this web page on a series of display boards and put these up in the museum? Why not be open and honest and transparent on the very dark side of this man? You don't have to answer this question - was he a good man who did something horrific or was he a bad man who did something good? - but welcome the discussion! The answer, either way, could lead to a lot of self-examination by visitors.

The other very large hole in all that's wonderful about the park is the lack of prominent acknowledgment of the people settled in the area long before European Americans came: no statue, no information board, no anything that I could find. That's as shameful as not acknowledging Audubon's enslavement of people and his defense of slavery.

I hope that all of this is being addressed already by funders and supporters of John James Audubon State Park. In fact, if there is a fundraising campaign to make any of this happen, let me know: I'll donate to it and publicize it.

Here is the response I got. I'm pleased about the revamp, but wish, in the interim, they would just print out the web page I mentioned, as a couple of large signs, and just put them on some easels. 

Dear Ms. Cravens,

I wanted to express my gratitude for your visit to Audubon State Park during the holiday. I'm delighted that you had the opportunity to enjoy our park's trails and grounds. I will be sure to share your kind words with our grounds team. It is a priority for us to preserve and convey the unique history of the park, particularly our association with the Civilian Conservation Corps.

Thank you as well for suggesting the addition of closed captioning to our videos. I believe this is an excellent idea and being personally aware of the challenges faced by individuals with hearing impairments, I fully understand the importance of such accommodations.

I wanted to inform you that the Kentucky Department of Parks is currently working on the design for a comprehensive restoration of the Audubon Museum building. As part of this restoration, we intend to revamp the museum layout, install new display cases, and incorporate significant information and scholarly works pertaining to the entire life of John James Audubon. It is essential for us to not only celebrate Audubon's contributions to natural history and bird depictions but also acknowledge and comprehend his history as an enslaver and anti-abolitionist.

While our collection of indigenous art and artifacts is limited, we are continuously searching for items that will enrich our understanding of the area's history. Our objective is to present a comprehensive history to our guests, allowing them to interpret the information in their own way.

Once again, thank you for sharing your ideas and concerns with us.

Best regards,

David Miller
Park Manager
John James Audubon State Park

Memories of Maple Mount, Kentucky music camp

It was the summer of 1982, between my sophomore and junior years of high school. Because the schools in my county were then on a 6-3-3 system (junior high 7th through 9th grades), I had only just finished my first year at Henderson County High School, in Kentucky. I'd had a great year in choir and was thrilled when Robert Ellis, the head of all of our high school choirs, took me aside and said, "You're going to summer music camp with me and some other students." Okay!

The two-week camp, I think in June, was on the campus of Mount Saint Joseph Academy, a Roman Catholic girl's school and convent outside of Owensboro. Students would take music theory classes and rehearse choral pieces with the camp-wide choir and also with a select group of older students, both led by Mr. Ellis. Some students would also be in the camp band. Added bonus for me was that two of the HCHS students also going were two of my favorites, Mark Haffner and Randy Wilkerson. We commuted to and from the camp and I laughed to and fro the entire way. I know there were a couple of other students from HCHS but I cannot for the life of me remember who they were (sorry!). But most of the students were from Owensboro.

Here's how the camp was described in 2014 on the official web site of the Maple Mount convent:

Every summer from 1975 until 2006 Mount Saint Joseph hosted the annual Greater Owensboro Summer Music Camp which gave youngsters two weeks to receive music instruction in a relaxed setting. Maple Mount proved to be a perfect venue for students to swim, take walks, play sports and do crafts between practicing and lessons. Originally sponsored by Brescia College (now University), the camp offered talented musicians ages 11 through 22 vigorous training sessions in their respective instruments and the development of mature practice habits. Typically 75% of the students came from Daviess County, but would include students from other parts of Kentucky and the United States.

Swimming?! Playing sports?!? Missed out on that... 

I'm not Roman Catholic. This was my first time on a Roman Catholic school campus of any kind. The Mount Saint Joseph Academy campus was so, so beautiful, all green and covered in trees and feeling like it was out in the middle of nowhere. The chapel in particular was lovely to me. Some of the buildings that made up the campus were first built in the 1870s. The building that was the centerpiece of the academy is one of the oldest buildings in Daviess County. Additions to that academy building were built in 1882, 1904 and 1962. I loved the academy classrooms, even the desks. I love old schools, whether all wooden one-room schools or something vast with bricks and large windows and arched doorways. I like for schools to look like institutions of knowledge, something you should feel honored to enter, something you should respect while there. New schools aren't built like that. I remember sitting in an old classroom doing my music theory lessons in a workbook, surrounded by just a few other high school students. Because I was taking guitar lessons, I had landed in a level by myself - the other students my age were either in intro to music theory or in the advanced class, but we all sat together in the historic classroom, doing our lessons but not taking it all that seriously - it was summer camp!

At one point during the time there, there was a horrible storm, and then a tornado warning, and it all happened while we were in the large choir rehearsal room. It was absolutely black outside. We were seconds away from having to sit in the floor in THAT position, the one you have to learn when you go to school in the South or the Midwest because of the weather. I kept waiting to hear the train sound, and wondering what I would do when and if I did. When I went home that day after camp, I had to get out of the car half a block from my house and climb over a massive tree blocking the street - I was so happy to see my home was okay.  

The day of our final performance at camp felt so elegant. It was one of the first times I had ever gotten dressed up as a teenager. It was the first time I drank champagne punch. Our final musical performances were wonderful, even though I was stung by a bee in the shoulder DURING the performance. I loved looking up and seeing the elderly nuns in the balcony grooving to the little rock band performance. 

I did not want that evening to end. 

I was in heaven about that camp for weeks afterward. 

I never went to that camp again, and that's such a shame - but my family was just not functional enough to follow up the next year on our own, as well as to arrange transportation for me to go again. The only reason I got to go in the first place was because of that connection with Bob Ellis and that other students could take me. I know that he could be a hard man to love at times - but he was so damn good to me. He changed my life, not just with this camp. 

“Music at Maple Mount” started in 1975, and continued for thirty-one years there. It's now the Institute For Young Musicians and is held elsewhere. 

The all-female Mount Saint Joseph Academy opened in 1874. When I returned to HCHS after camp months later, I met a couple of its students at a speech and drama competition held at the community college in Henderson, Kentucky - I liked them immediately. Also, an all-girls school sounded so exotic to me.

The high school existed just for one more year after we were at the camp, until 1983. I heard that there were plenty of students that wanted to attend, but they couldn't find enough nun teachers. I know that graduating classes were tiny - around 15 or less students. There are more than 800 alumnae of the Mount Saint Joseph Academy.

The main academy building became a retreat center. But it closed in March 2020, when the rest of the Maple Mount campus was shut down due to the Covid-19 pandemic. It's never re-opened. 

And I just read that the building will be dismantled - it's structurally unsound. It cannot be repaired.

So sad. 

I have no photos from that wonderful summer camp. I wish I did. And I'd love to go to a two-week music camp again on a beautiful campus - even at my age. 

Memory: 10 years ago in June

My first blog space is long gone, but many of my first blogs were captured and are on the Internet Wayback Machine, also known as archive.org, if you know where to look. 

Here's one of my blogs from the evening of 28 June 2009 - I'd been back in the USA for just over two months, after living in Germany since February 2001, and was adjusting to life back in my home country and home state. I had to change the MySpace links though:

Our adventure in Louisville continues:

Stefan went to his first baseball game (it was also Albi's first baseball game and his first dirt track race. Guess which he liked more? And Stefan went on his own to a motorcycle gathering for motorcycle travelers/adventure riders in Eastern Kentucky (hurrah! there are such people in the USA! He's been worried...)

We've also made trips to Mammoth Cave (took the Historic tour; Stefan liked it very much), Maker's Mark Distillery (free samples!), Lincoln's Birthplace and various places on Bardstown Road (the Irish pubs, the Homemade Ice Cream and Pie Kitchen, and the The Falafel House, where I dazzled the staff with my SEVEN words of Arabic).

Special thanks to my friend Jennifer, who made Stefan feel extra welcomed by donning a black wig, blacking out her front teeth, and running across the parking lot of Lynn's Paradise Cafe while yelling, "Stefan! Stefan! Welcome to Kentucky." He's still recovering from that cultural experience. I spent the whole event laying on the sidewalk convulsing with laughter.

Stefan now has his green card.

I've been listening to the local public radio station, WFPL, and often, the announcer says, "This news hour is brought to you by: The Embassy of Germany. Learn more about Germany as a vacation destination or as a partner for your business..." I'm impressed! The public radio audience in Louisville is *exactly* the type of audience that Germany should be going after, no kidding. We've wondered for the last eight years how Germany advertises to Americans. Through June, we only have access to TV-by-antennae, and so far, I haven't seen any advertisements for Germany -- guess the network TV audience isn't their desired demographic.

Watched Sheba, Baby, a rather bad movie with the fabulous Pam Grier, on TV the other day, because it turned out to have been filmed in Louisville, Kentucky in the 1970s. My how the city has changed! Awful movie, but the city scenes, and Grier's outfits, were fun.

It's so nice to have TV in English again, I cannot lie... I also got to enjoy the Tony Awards live for the first time since 2000. My verdict on the 2009 show: Best. Opening. EVA. And, as well, Greatest. Closing. EVA. Host Neil Patrick Harris was terrific (there wasn't enough of him actually), musical numbers were terrific, and except for Carrie Fisher's TRAIN WRECK of an outfit, everyone's dresses were terrific. Ultimate compliment is from Carmen Thornton, expert on Tony Awards and wine maven at Old Town in Louisville: "This stands up to the 1987 Tony award, which I have on tape." What more of an endorsement do you need?

I've taken TARC, the local bus system, a few times this summer and enjoyed it immensely. The drivers were friendly and helpful, the buses were clean, and the web site is comprehensive and detailed. Only complaint: TARC doesn't allow dogs. Highlights of my TARC trips:

• A very old black gentlemen -- one of those unofficial-mayor-of-the-neighborhood types -- regaling everyone at a downtown bus stop with incredible stories of when Al Capone and various famous performers of the era would visit Louisville, where black entertainers stayed during Jim Crow, etc.

• A middle-aged white good ole' boy standing in the front of the bus talking to the driver, telling her in his strong Kentucky accent, "Well, I don't want to sound sissified or nuthin', but that thar Yoga really helps me calm down. You'd think hittin' a hammer all day would really release all yer anger, but it don't like Yoga does."

• A young white woman telling two different people on the bus, with no shame whatsoever, that she had spent Sunday night in jail on a suspended license and what a HUGE inconvenience it was not to be able to use her car now, adding, "I've NEVER been in no trouble before" (so, dear madam, how then do you explain that suspended license?).

• Realizing why the young, large black woman looked so very, very uncomfortable in her seat in the front of the bus: the bus driver stopped at an intersection next to a hospital, even though the light was green, and honked the horn until the guy in scrubs crossing the street and wearing an MP3 player turned around to see what the noise was; the driver yelled, "Hey, come over here and help this woman over to the hospital. She's havin' a baby." When someone on the bus remarked how sad it was that the woman had had to take public transportation to the hospital to have a baby, the driver said, "Well, that's how I did it myself!"

If you had told me back in March that, by now, we would have taken our dog Albi to two bars (Molly Malone's and the Nach Bar) and a minor league baseball game, I would have said, "That's crazy! How many Hefe Weissens have you had tonight?!?" But it's true - Louisville is dog-friendly. In addition, I've seen dogs with their owners at outdoor areas of many restaurants on Bardstown Road and people walking their dogs all over town. Now, if we could only take her on the city buses and it was cooler in the summer, life in Louisville would be perfect!

USA men's soccer victory over Spain in the Confederations Cup? Rapturous. It was all I could do to stop myself from honking the horn of the U-Haul wildly as I drove across Tennessee (heading back from Austin). The loss to Brazil? Heart-breaking. And I'm someone who has had her heart broken over sports many, many times...

Yes, we road tripped to Austin, to deal with various matters, since Austin was my official home while I lived in Germany. Highlights of that trip: seeing Star Trek (awesome) at the Alamo Draft House (also awesome) while eating artichoke pizza (also awesome), playing table shuffleboard at Shoal Creek Saloon and the bartender donning a mullet wig, taking Stefan to Ginny's Little Longhorn, eating at Enchiladas y Mas and our hosts, Sharron and Ron.

Unfortunately, we're having to move again before leaving Louisville, because the place we're renting has another tenant waiting. Most of our things are in storage, and we're moving just up the street, but we still have enough to make it annoying to have to move again.

And then we'll move again at the end of July and head to Portland, Oregon (or there abouts).

And we did head to Portland, and stay, and almost 10 years later, we're still in the greater Portland metro area... or there abouts... 

More about my travels

What is Southern heritage? What is worth celebrating?

What is heritage? It's a thing that can be inherited. Heritage is valued objects and qualities: cultural traditions, music, art, natural landscapes, historic buildings and a particular, shared history that come from previous generations.

Following up to a previous blog, I've been thinking a lot about what being from the South means to me, what heritage that it is a part of it that I want to celebrate.

The first thing that comes to mind: food. Stereotypical, I know. But there is no better comfort food than Southern food. Barbecue, biscuits and milk gravy, fried chicken, sweet corn on the cob, chicken and dumplings (dumplin's!), breaded and fried catfish fiddlers, burgoo... okay, not the healthiest cuisine in the world, and since leaving Kentucky, I've changed my daily diet rather significantly. But I still indulge in those Southern foods every now and again, usually when I want to celebrate something - and always when I visit the region. Going into a soul food restaurant on the West Coast makes me feel at home - waving a Confederate flag does not.

The second thing that comes to mind: music. Everyone from the Carter Family to Bessie Smith to Loretta Lynn, from Elvis Presley to Fats Domino to BB King, from Dolly Parton to Rhiannon Giddens, Southern Culture on the Skids to REM to the B52s to Government Cheese. It's country, bluegrass, gospel, rock and roll, rockabilly, blues, zydeco and on and on.

The third thing that comes to mind: our way of speaking. It's not just our accents - it's our cadence, our choice of words, our narratives, our poetry, our manners - it's what we say and how we say it and our intent behind it. If you've read William Falkner, Tennessee Williams, Maya Angelou, Richard Wright, Robert Penn Warren, Eudora Welty, Flannery O'Connor, Carson McCullers or Alice Walker, you experience this.

The fourth thing that comes to mind: our violent history. The white settlers drove out the native people of the region - and some Indians on the trail of tears took the African slaves they owned with them. Every Southerner wants to claim native American history, but not ancestry that drove out native Americans. Our ancestors were slave owners and slaves, and the time of slavery was never a universally-happy, simple time; rather, white Southerners wanted black Southerners to work in menial jobs, cook their food, entertain them, and take care of their children - but they wanted them otherwise completely segregated and subjugated, living in poverty, and were willing to undertake violent means, even long after the Civil War, to ensure that status. Some of us choose to be in denial about that history, some of us choose to sanitize, even glorify, the history, and some of us would like for it to be acknowledged, remembered, and taught in school - unfiltered.

The fifth thing that comes to mind: how we think of family and community and class. Every culture on Earth will say family is important, and the South is no different. But there's something particular about family and community and South, the way religion permeates it - even if you are Atheist, you cannot get away from religion in the South. There is so much prayer. The only place I've seen people praying that often has been in Afghanistan. Also, how you are related to other people in the community matters - who your blood relatives are, what families you are related to by marriage, and on and on. There are family aristocracies even in the tiniest, poorest communities that can hold a person back from jobs or social advancement. I learned the term trash from my black friends back in Kentucky, who used the term for people that, whether they had money or not, and no matter their racial identification, lacked propriety, decency, tact and grace. And, of course, there is our sports culture. The only place where I have seen sports treated the way we treat it in the South - like a religion - is in other countries where soccer is King. Entire communities here will shut down for the "big game," which might be American football, might be basketball, might be a softball game. And it will be talked about long after that game is over.

The sixth thing that comes to mind: the influence from African slave culture and of segregation. Our food, our music, our way of speaking, and how we think about our history are all affected by African slave culture and segregation. You will find a history of segregation and subjugation in other regions of the USA, but you will never find such infusing the food, the music or the way of speaking to the degree you will find such in the South. There's no way to experience our culture without seeing the deep infusion of slave culture and influence of segregation.

That's our beautiful and ugly, gentle and violent, welcoming and hateful, inclusive and exclusionary. I love it, I hate it. I accept it. And there's no way you can say the Confederate battle flag represents all that, and all of the people of the South - it does NOT. I want a symbol for ALL of the South.

I want a symbol for ALL of the South

I’m from Kentucky. I lived there for the first 22 1/2 years of my life. Kentucky was a slave state that stayed in the Union. Kentucky was the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis. Kentucky had more union divisions than confederate divisions, but I wonder some times if Kentuckians know this, as they love to talk about - and invent - Southern veterans among their ancestors. With such a mixed history, is Kentucky the South? I think it is. Having traveled extensively all over the USA, Kentucky, in my mind, fits better in the South, culturally speaking, than the midWest. I have always identified as a Southerner.

We don’t need the Confederate flag to represent the South. We never have. It represents only one group of people: white Southerners who believe Southern states had a right to enslave black Africans and their descendants. That is the heritage it represents, period. It's a hurtful symbol not only for black Americans, but for white Americans, like me, who find it a painful reminder of inhumanity that permeated the region I call my home. It represents the worst that white Southerners can be. To see it flown outside state legislatures, to see it a part of state's flags now, is disgusting.

There are so many better representatives of the South: our food, our music, our literature, our friendliness and kindness, our diversity, and on and on. People descended from African slaves are an integral part of the vibrant soul of the South, of the overall culture I love. I love it all. I love the South. And I think the South deserves its own symbol - because we are special, we are unique - but one that represents ALL people in the South and what’s best about us - all of us.

That’s a flag I’ll proudly fly.

I've also traveled all over the world, and it's disturbing to see the Confederate battle flag so popular in so many countries. I've seen it in parades, and sold in gift shops on hats. I've asked people if they know what it means. Some have no idea, and some say they think it means rebellion. But I've no doubt some of them know it's a symbol of oppression against black Americans - and that it's their legal way, in their countries, of expressing "white pride."

The battle over this flag and what it represents has to go worldwide. And we've also got to let people worldwide know the beautiful land and culture that is the South - they really have no idea.

Someone commented on a similar rant, "Are we going to eridacate[sic] the entire Civil War from our history also"? No. Just as Germany doesn't fly the flag that flew over its country and soldiers during World War II, but still remembers and acknowledges that war.

Also see: The meaning of the Confederate flag is best discerned in the words of those who bore it.

One more thing: the majority of Confederate states had armed military divisions fighting for the North. Yes, you read that right: people from each of nine Southern states banded together, under their Southern state identity, formed a military division, and fought for the Union during the Civil War. Only two non-Confederate states, California and West Virginia, had divisions fighting for the South (Kentucky, Missouri and Maryland, which also had at least one armed military division that fought for the South, each had rebellion groups that claimed to be a part of the Confederate government, and these were recognized by the Confederacy). So if you think the South has always been a unified in its hatred of Abraham Lincoln and the North, you would be wrong.

Love my wildcats

Thanks for a great season, Coach Cal!

On, On U of K

On, On, U of K

I like to watch college basketball, men and women's, although I don't watch too much of either anymore. But I remain a huge fan of the University of Kentucky men's basketball team.

However, I didn't go to U of Ky - I went to Western Kentucky University.

I loved my time at WKU - it's a time that is very precious to me. It made me who I am. I cherish it. But I remain a huge fan of U of Ky rather than WKU when it comes to men's basketball, and during March Madness, you can imagine what many of my Facebook posts are about.

A few people have found it strange that I can be an alumnus of one university but be such a fan of another university's basketball team. This is a question from a Facebook friend this week:

I know you're going to dislike me when I ask this (but I'm just like this ) why did you go to WKU?? blahblah

She claims she wasn't serious in the question... but to be honest, I'm getting tired of criticisms like this. So I'm going to answer it here, once and for all.

I had no burning desire to be a Hilltopper. None. I couldn't go where I wanted to go: Purdue, which had the literary program I was so dying to be a part of. I got accepted at Purdue, I visited the campus, I went through the catalogue picking my first semester of classes - but there was no way I could afford it. For a few weeks after I realized I couldn't go, I made up my mind to move to California, work for a year, get state residency, and then go to university there - but the person I was going to do that with backed out. So I turned my attention to in-state schools.

Of the in-state public universities, WKU had the best journalism program - nationally renowned, in fact - and I thought that would be my best bet to become a better writer. My friend with whom I had planned to go to California also was going to WKU, and convinced me it was where I should go too. A friend of the family finagled a small scholarship for me my freshman year, and along with another small scholarship I got with the help of the student guidance counselor, plus money from my paternal grandparents, I was able to afford the first year's tuition. After that, I had to work part time in the school year and full-time (and then some) in the summer to pay for each year.

I enjoyed my time at WKU, I really did. So many people that were my friends at WKU are still my friends now, and I appreciate so much all of the students and teachers that I encountered there, and how they helped me. I didn't follow sports when I was at WKU; I was too busy studying,working, enjoying the theatre and dance department, enjoying the social scene and having my heart broken repeatedly, although I did go to a couple of WKU football games - so I could see the performance of the visiting marching bands from two schools famous for such. When I wear my WKU gear, it's with my time there and friends from there in mind, and I really like taking photos of me wearing such in places like Chornobyl and Wyoming and Louisville baseball games and what not, because it's just not something you see much of - someone with a WKU shirt in Ukraine.

But WKU didn't give me anything; I paid for that time there. I owe WKU nada in regard to anything I got from there. I also never felt a particular WKU culture, one that was unique or particularly special among other colleges in the state. When I told people I went to WKU, the thing they might know about it was the journalism program - the other thing they might know about it is that the band Government Cheese was based there. Now, years later, it's rare that I get a comment about either of those things when people see me in a WKU t-shirt. 

I also want to note that WKU hasn't been great to me post-graduation. I donated to WKU every year after graduation for many years, because it was my university, and I thought that's what one did. But when I applied for graduate school, I needed certain paperwork from them. Their web site at the time (2002) was really unclear on how to get it. Long story short, after several emails, I ended up having to call, from Germany, at a time when long distance calls were stupid expensive, and the head of the WKU office  in charge of student records was AWFUL - she said that "we don't have time to answer emails" and said that this "whole web thing is so new" (by then, it was about 20 years old) and on and on. I did eventually get the records I needed, but I also wrote and snail mailed complaint letters to about five different people at WKU. Not one of them responded. Not. One. It's still left a really bad taste in my mouth. Plus, WKU doesn't really have much in terms of services for alumni - I'd love to network with other WKU graduates who are in similar work to me, I'd love to offer myself as a resource to WKU students that want to work in nonprofits or international humanitarian aid and development, but every offer I've made regarding that has been ignored by every WKU admin or faculty member I've written. I give up!

By contrast, my love of U of KY basketball is something deep and very emotional. It's one of the few positive things my family did together: watch Kentucky basketball games and talk about the games and players. Growing up, Kentucky basketball was something to celebrate and bond over with neighbors and students and anyone you encountered with a UK t-shirt out-of-state. I have so many wonderful memories of watching games with friends and family - amid not-so-great memories. When I was a kid, Kentucky games were the events I could count on where my family would all have fun and want to be together. I can remember my mother telling me about players and great games from years before I was born, with a sense of awe and pride. I can remember where I was during so many pivotal games over the years. There is just nothing like the emotional roller coaster of following U of Ky over a season! I also have so enjoyed when I'm wearing a U of KY t-shirt and someone comes up to me to say something, positive or negative - that t-shirt means something, either good or bad, all over the USA - and beyond.

And I apologize to Kyle Macy for bothering the hell out of him when he came to Henderson to sign autographs when I was about 14 or so, but that's another story...

Kentucky is the butt of so many jokes all over the USA. It's perfectly acceptable to say that you think all people from Kentucky are uneducated, stupid, racist, violent, unclean, and on and on - no one is going to say, "What an awful stereotype! How rude!" Sometimes I can have a sense of humor about the Kentucky jokes, and often, I can join in regarding a lot of the criticisms of the state - that we have a state-supported Creation Museum makes me so ashamed, as does our teen pregnancy rate, our prescription drug use rate, the condition of dogs and cats in the state, and on and on. But, often, the comments and stereotyping really, really hurt. Kentucky is a beautiful state, one I'm proud to be from, one I've loved showing off to people when I can get them to visit me there. Kentucky's national park, its national forest, its national historic sites, its state parks, Louisville, Frankfurt, Bardstown, my home town of Henderson - there are a lot of lovely, interesting places in Kentucky. Our music is amazing. Our food is amazing. And our love of live performance is amazing. I've been all over the world, to more than 30 countries, and I can tell you that Kentucky is special and wonderful, it really is. When I'm wearing a shirt with "Kentucky" in big, blue letters, I'm thinking about my state even more than I am my beloved basketball team. I'm proud of both.

So, yes, I went to one university, but I celebrate the basketball program of another's. Don't get it? Well, it's a Kentucky thing. You just don't understand.

On, On, U of K!

Memories, funerals, family

I have been going to funerals all of my life.

The first visitation and funeral I remember is that of my great-grandfather, "GrandDad," my paternal grandmother's father. It was 1974. I was 8. I was so sad that he had died, because he was a very fun person who I loved hanging out with. I remember the big room of the funeral home, with lots of flowers, and I remember lots and lots of people talking. And I remember hearing this comment again and again: "GrandDad would have loved this." They meant he would have loved not only his family all being there together, but the stories they were telling.

I'm so incredibly lucky to have had four great-grandparents alive at the same time until I was 8 years-old - I lost the last one when I was 27. I had four grandparents alive until I was in my early 20s, and I still have my maternal grandmother. Having so many grandparents and great-grandparents that are real people, with real personalities for me - not just names and dates - has made even those ancestors I never met very real to me, because I have stories about them, stories that give me an idea of their character. And, wow, am I related to a LOT of characters...

I've been to so many funerals - for great-grandparents, for my grandfather, for distant family, for beloved friends, and for my own father. I am just back from Henderson, Kentucky, following the death of GrandDad's daughter, my father's mother, my Mamaw. It prompted my previous blog regarding having tough, detailed conversations with your parents and grandparents.

I don't fear funeral homes, visitations or funerals. I don't fear grief. I don't like grief - and I've certainly had enough in my life. But I find the rituals around death cathartic, comforting and affirming - the opposite of denial. Funerals usually calm me and strengthen me. I love the singular focus of remembering and defining someone. I need those moments. I will always regret not going to my paternal grandfather's funeral; I was living in California and had already purchased a plane ticket to go to Kentucky when I got the news that Papaw had died, and my family said that since I was already coming home the next week, to not change my tickets - too much trouble, too expensive, etc. I regret that decision to this day - it denied me something I very much needed, and a celebration that my family still talks about.

My littlest niece, just three years-old, was around her Mamaw as much as possible, thanks to my sister. At the funeral home, my niece walked up to the open casket during visitation, looked at her beloved grandmother, looked over at my sister and said, "Mamaw passed out." Mamaw would have loved that. My niece told me twice at different times, matter-of-factly, "Mamaw died," and each time, she waited for my followup comment, and then she ran off to do something else. And on my last night in Kentucky, we were alone together in a kitchen, she asked for some milk. I poured her some, handed her the glass and she drank a bit, then said, out of the blue, "Is this Mamaw's glass?" It was, in fact, and I told her so. "Did she drink out of it?" I told her she did. She went back to drinking her milk and thinking. My niece probably won't remember any of this, but now I've written it down, and I'll get to tell her some day, and together with any memories she has, plus the endless number of photos and videos we have, and the stories we tell, this will keep her great-grandmother alive for her, always. And just like me, she will grow up going to funerals - and I think that's a very good thing.

My Mamaw hand-wrote notes about her life, and sent them to me and to my siblings, her only grandchildren. I recorded her talking about her life, and will be digitizing this later this week. We have so many photos of her. We have videos. I cherish it all, and I know that, some day, my nephew and nieces will cherish them, and their children as well.

I've never spoken at a funeral, but for my dearest Mamaw, I had to. Below is what I wrote to say - and I did say most of it, though I think I did some edits in the moment. But one thing I didn't say, and I wish I had: her marriage to my Papaw, Jack Cravens, was the model for my marriage. I never wanted to get married. I had no plans to get married. But when I met the man who is now my husband, and when I knew I really wanted to be married to him, I knew what a good marriage looked like - the ongoing work it takes, the joys and the sacrifices - because of Mamaw and Papaw. I so wish I had said that at her funeral.

Here's my speech:

Ice cream made from snow.
There’s a Monster at the End of this Book
Chicken and dumplings.
Creamed corn.
Corn bread
The Brady Bunch on a Friday night.
Opening a present the night before Christmas Eve.
Kittens.
Vacation Bible School.
Hay rides.
Fear of chickens
Fear of mice
No fear of snakes
Ronald Colman
Clip on earrings
Shadow puppets
Opfrah
Going to town.
Going off.
Singing.
Belly laughs.

Those are 20 or so things that make me think of our Mamaw, Emma Cravens. I could name 1000 more.

They say funerals are for the living. Yet I feel this incredible pressure for this celebration to be something Mamaw would really love. After all, this is a person who wrote a script for what to say about her at her own 90th birthday celebration.

I have so many stories about our grandmother. Like when she held me in her arms as she walked through the haunted house in the basement of Sharon Baptist Church with ALL of the lights on because I was too scared to go in otherwise.

Or when she had a car wreck and laid on her couch and talked me through baking a cake - the first time I ever cooked.

Or how I stayed with her every time I came to Henderson after college, and I would wake up and listen to her telling my dogs how she really shouldn’t let them have bacon, but since I was still in bed…

Or the incredible time we had touring San Francisco together.

Or when she told me she was “as content as a cow”, which sent my sister and I into hysterics.

Or even about some of the times we disagreed regarding how something should or shouldn’t be done.

She could be a saint. And she could say something that could lift you up or that, sometimes, that could cut like a knife, as only someone you dearly love can do.

For Emma Cravens, family was everything. Everything. She was fierce about her family, her tribe. Not just her blood relations, but those her blood relations married. Once you were in the tribe, that was that - you were in HER family.

We know she was a devoted daughter and sister and wife and mother and grandmother. But I want you to also know that Emma Cravens was a preacher. Yes, she was a  preacher’s wife, and she lead the singing in Church who knows how many times, but she was also a preacher. She loved preaching.

One of her favorite things to say was this:

“God created man from dust of the Earth and breathed life into him. Maybe that’s why men are always dirty. Ha ha! “

I asked her once if she liked preaching and she said, emphatically, yes, that she could have been a REAL preacher. I reminded her that in the Bible, Paul said women were supposed to stay quiet in church, and she said, “Oh, Paul, some woman hurt him and we’ve been paying for it ever since!”
I have some of her lectures and thoughts about religion in writing, as my siblings do as well, and I’ll be scanning and sharing them online, so we can all enjoy them. What I like about them is that they don’t just draw on Bible verses - they also draw on her own wisdom, her heart, her observations - all of which she believed came from her God. She believed lessons for life are all around us.

Here’s an excerpt from one of her lectures that I really loved. It’s from a lecture she gave to a women’s group. These are her own words, and I direct them in particular to my sisters, my sisters-in-law, and my nieces:

Who am I?
Where did I come from?
Where am I going?
What am I doing here?
Look in the mirror. What do you see?
A person.
You may be pretty, or ugly.
Fat or skinny. Short or Tall.
Light color or dark.
But you are a PERSON.
I may not like what I see, but I am SOMEBODY.
That person I see in the mirror - that’s my outside.
But I am another person also.
You cannot see that person in a mirror.
Look at the rubber band.
It’s very limpy - not attractive.
Not very useful when it’s dangling.
Until it is STRETCHED. It becomes pliable and useful for many things.
So in life, that’s the woman - stretched, useful
Willing bodies, busy hands, compassion, sacrifice.
So many organizations need us if only for a few hours.
Love everyone, whatever the age, the color of their skin.
We all have one thing in common - the blood. It is red.
We are sisters.
Love makes us equal.

For a long time, Mamaw was my best friend. Once I graduated from university, she was THE primary reason I came back to Henderson. She made me feel welcomed and loved every time I came to Henderson. She sometimes decorated her house when I came home, with artificial flowers and ribbons and homemade signs. And we would stay up late and laugh and laugh and laugh. Everything I am I am because of Emma Cravens, and I’m not the only one here that could say that. This room is filled with people who not only have nice or fun or funny stories about her, but people with stories about how she changed their lives. I hope each of us can love life like she did, and make the kind of difference she made in the lives of so many.

I don’t know many hymns, and I’m not at all a religious person, but there is one song that I fell in love with in my 20s, and I was thrilled to find out a few years ago that Mamaw loved it too. There’s a recording on the Internet of us singing a verse together that you may have heard. It’s called “Farther Along.” I’m going to sing just a couple of verses with the chorus, and I would love for you to sing it with me.

Tempted and tried we're oft made to wonder
Why it should be thus all the day long
While there are others living about us
Never molested though in the wrong.

Farther along we'll know all about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up, my brother, come sing in the sunshine
We'll understand it all by and by.

When death has come and taken our loved ones
It leaves our home so lonely and drear
Then do we wonder why others prosper
Living so wicked year after year.

Farther along we'll know all about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up, my brother, come sing in the sunshine
We'll understand it all by and by.

March Madness

You may remember that, when I lived in Kabul, Afghanistan, I visited a leather shop and had a purse custom made to my specifications. My office mate went on to form a partnership with the owner and now helps him design and sell gorgeous bags, other leather goods and other handicrafts. By buying from Gundara, you not only get a unique, gorgeous item, you help support local people in Afghanistan. And a big thank you to my friends who have bought items from Gundara already!

If you are in Kabul, the shop is in the plaza across from the India Embassy.

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I want to do this motorcycle trip in Africa to see the work of Riders for Health so badly my heart hurts.

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Han Solo is watching me... This is what I look like in my home office. Always under the watchful eye of Han Solo. And Agent Mulder (can you see him there? he's there...). And Shrek and Fiona. I'm a geek.

I'm going to buy a toy tiara and start wearing it every day around the house, particularly during video conference calls for work. Because I can.


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Want to make a Kentucky Atheist angry? Show up at my door to proselytize during March Madness. WWJD? Not do that.

This is not one of my grandmothers. But this IS one of the residents of the apartment complex for seniors where they live in Henderson, Kentucky. I try to explain to people that it's just NOT a retirement home in the way you might think a retirement home is, and people don't believe me. Maybe this photo will explain it. It will at least explain what March Madness is like in Kentucky. GO BIG BLUE!!!!

FYI, two players from the greater Portland metropolitan area are on Kentucky's team. I never, ever would have thought of this area as a basketball recruiting ground. They just aren't that into basketball around here. And while football is popular here, you just do not see anywhere near the craziness and devotion to teams the way you do in the South or Midwest.

And on a related note: wonder what Prime Minister Cameron thought of that WKU game that kicked off March Madness... and wonder what he thought of Big Red?

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Check out the VERY scary malware Stefan had on his computer. Note that this attempt to compromise his account happened AFTER he logged in to check his bank account balance! I'm really ticked off that his employer's IT department didn't do any research, just immediately claimed it was the bank that had been compromised, not Stefan's lap top. I did an Internet search and found out the truth. I really do not like doing other people's jobs...

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Don Julio González Estrada, creator and founder of Tequila Don Julio passed away. I will never forget the bottle of Don Julio my friends Sharron and Ron brought us for our wedding, schlepping it all the way from Texas to Germany. Oh how we enjoyed that.... glad the tequila will live on.

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Last week, the cooking expert on Portland local TV just said "Add Qweso."

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This year - last week, in fact -- is the anniversary of the publication of Harriet Beecher Stowe's novel Uncle Tom's Cabin. It was published in 1852. I never read it in school or at university - I read I just a few years ago, in fact. And it was nothing at all like I thought it would be.

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Tweet from Will Ferrell / @RealFerrellWill :

I live n a country where a chick that threw flour on Kim Kardashian was arrested on site But the man who KILLED Trayvon Martin is still free

If you know me, you know that I don't like teenagers. I fear them. No matter the color, no matter the gender, hoodie or not. I've had teens - and pre-teens - start saying the most awful things to me for no reason other than I happened to be standing near them or walking by. I've had them grab me - my breasts, my ass - and I've had them do that one-foot-forward-stomp, like they are going to come after me. But when I see a teen in my neighborhood, hoodie or not, I do not freakin' jump in my car and follow him or her! I don't walk behind him/her/them and confront him/her/them; I look out the window and give a very suspicious look ala Gladys Kravitz. If I was really scared or worried, I'd call the police - but I'd stay in my car or my house. Whether or not this was a case of racism, it was most certainly a case of stupidity on the shooter's part, a criminal case of extreme over-reaction - and warranted way, WAY more investigation on the part of the police.

And, for the record, I'm working on trying to not pre-judge teens, despite so many bad experiences with them. I've noticed they become very disarmed when I look them right in the eye and say, in a loud voice, "Good morning!" And most of them have been really, really wonderful when I'm walking a dog or two.

But they still need to stay off my lawn.

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5 of the Top 6 Porn Consuming Red States Have Voted For Rick Santorum. So Santorum voters in the South are both hypocrites and women-haters.