My Old Kentucky Home



Map of where musical stars were born in KY.
 Located in the Kentucky Music Hall of Fame.



"Weep no more my lady
Oh! weep no more today!
We will sing one song
For My Old Kentucky Home
For My Old Kentucky Home, far away."

-Stephen Foster (1853)

Official state song of Kentucky

Every time I hear "My Old Kentucky Home" being played after a University of Kentucky basketball game or on Derby Day I get tears in my eyes.  It's a song of simplicity: the moon shining down on families as they tend to their crops and sleep in their homes, of how hard times might come and they may have to part ways, but they'll forever have their old Kentucky home.  I was born in the very northern part of the blue grass state in Louisville; far disconnected from the rolling hills and mountain ways, but that doesn't change the proud feeling that I have for being born there.  Even though I live in Indiana, I feel very much more attached to the ways of life and customs of those who live south of me.

In the 1940's and 50's many a'person left their homes in Eastern Kentucky and flocked to little ole Scott County Indiana where jobs awaited them at the Morgan Packing Company and other factories in the area.  Tagging along with them were their traditions, accents, and down-to-earth manners and views.  My Great-Aunt Hazel and her best friend, Callie, were among those in search of a better means of income and made the northern journey.  When they had saved enough money they sent for Hazel's siblings, this including my grandmother, to join them.  This outpouring into my hometown earned us the nickname of 'Little Hazzard' because it was as though a chunk of Kentucky existed right here in southern Indiana.

By the time I came along all of my grandparents were already deceased but their sayings and folkways were very much alive.  Callie, who I nicknamed 'Mam', lived across the street from my parents and I and became the grandma I never had.  It wasn't uncommon to go to her house on an ordinary day to see a feast fit for Thanksgiving sitting in her kitchen.  Chicken'n'Dumplins, mashed 'potaters', homemade corn bread, and soup beans with onion was a typical meal in her house.  She was never married or had any kids but she played mother and grandmother to more people than can possibly be counted.  She told us stories about her one roomed school house, the creek they had on her farm, and of how her dad delivered mail while riding an old mule around their holler.  She taught us how to cut up the dumplins and drop them into the boiling broth, how to get lard from the drippins' can, and about all the things in life we shouldn't take for granted.  Along with all these good things, she also--unintentionally--taught us how to pronounce words like she did through heavy accent. 



Mam in the kitchen, of course.

She would say zank (sink), flaurs (flowers), rinch (rinse), pank (pink), year (ear) and a wide array of other words that we grew used to and also repeated without realizing all the time.  This was also the case with all of my neighbors, aunts, uncles and the rest of the older generation that I grew up knowing.  I'm not ashamed to admit that I was around fifteen before I became aware of the fact that when I wanted a drink of water I should ask for a "sip" and not a "sup".  It took me even longer to comprehend that red eye gravy and what Mam called "red sop" were the same things.  "Sop" because, you know, a person 'sopped' up the gravy with their biscuit.  There are so many words and saying that I picked up from these folks that I don't even notice I say until someone points it out to me.  Kids at school question why I live farther north than them and still have a thicker accent, mystery solved. :) Sometimes I get tired of getting poked fun at so I break into business-voice and try to hide it...but after awhile it gives me a headache and I have to go back to the way I grew up talking. ha!  When I get excited or talk fast my I's get dragged out, no endings exist on any of my words,  and my accent runs as thick as molasses.

Aside from teaching me incorrect English, Mam would 'learn me' little songs: "You get a line, I'll get a pole, honey//You get a line, I'll get a pole, babe//You get a line, I'll get a pole, we'll go down to the crawl-fish hole//honey, babe of mine," and we'd dance around the house.  John Anderson's "Swingin'" was also a favorite to sing while sitting outside on the glider.  Her little battery radio only got one station and that was our local country one so we would sit around the house listening to Hank Sr. and Tennessee Ernie when they decided to play the classics.

Speaking of classics...I read this the other day in the Loretta Lynn cook book (yes, I realize I'm a nerd) and it reminded me so much of Mam that I cried:

"I love pies and cakes--don't get me wrong.  But over all the sweets in the world, I would much rather have a tall glass of milk with a big old piece of cornbread inside.  Just give me a spoon and I'm in Heaven." -'You're Cookin' it Country'

I can remember sitting in Mam's lap with a tea cup full of buttermilk and spooning out the crumbled up cornbread that was inside; there isn't anything better.  She and Loretta's accent were so similar that it makes me feel as though a small part of Mam is still alive inside Lo. When I search videos on youtube of Ms. Lynn it helps me remember how Mam sounded so I don't forget, as silly as that sounds.

This blog tonight was more a way for me to be nostalgic than anything.  A music-loving friend of mine burnt me some DVDs over the weekend and when I watched them I couldn't help but wish Mam could enjoy them with me; she would have loved all the music and people on them...and I betcha she could have told me a story about each one.




Downtown Nashville

She could have told me all about all the Opry shows she'd been to and probably each and every person she's  seen on it's stages.  She, too, would have been happy that earlier this month they celebrated their 85th birthday.

I couldn't tell you what Indiana's state song is, or much else about it for that matter, and maybe that's ignorance on my part.  But I can tell you what Decoration Day and a cemetery meeting is, the area code and prefix to a Jackson telephone number, and that "I swany", "I declare", and "Well, I'll be" all mean the same thing to a good ole Kentuckian.  These things are slowing dying off in my little Indiana town as people of that era begin to pass on and this saddens me to no end.  But I know where my heart lies and that I will pass these things on to my future children with pride.  While everyone else is mocking this way of life, I'll be the one over there on her soap box defending it 'til the end.

"All that matters in this life is love, and love is home," -'Me and Ole Crazy Bill'

It's pert ner (pretty near) time for bed.  Until next time...

<3 Kellie

PS. Some little gal from Butcher Holler made her Opry debut singing the single "Honky Tonk Girl" fifty years ago October 15th...how amazing is that?  The epitome of country music, she is. 

   "Now I cain't help the way I talk, I wouldn't change it if I could. Sophisticated ain't my style but country fits me good." -Country in my Genes