A man I saw today....

The field, probably once part of a farm from many years ago, is set near the highway, probably there long before the highway was ever even thought of. It was a desolate field, bleak and empty except for the slabs of stone, lying throughout. Some of the stones were accompanied by old dried out flowers that had been cut weeks before and left to weather the elements. A few even had fresh flowers lying near them. The flowers were a kind of tribute, not to the stones but to what the stones represent, many that placed them there are the last to guard in their hearts what it is, who it is, they honor with the flowers.
The weather is cold and dreary; the wind burns deep, to the bone. One man stands alone on a hill in the field, he is old, his black overcoat and his dark green scarf, knitted by his granddaughter, try to keep out the chill. The wind blows his thin gray hair as he leans down to lay his small bundle of flowers on the plain gray stone, though it does not compare to the stately and even elaborate ones that are nearby, it mean so much more to the old man. The memories it represents still flow through his dusty mind as if they were yesterday, even though many thing have faded in his mind, the memories of love do not fade. His shoulders are hunched over as he hides his face from the biting wind; tears roll down his wrinkled face, hidden from his children, from the happy grandchildren he is so fond of; tears that he shares only with the solitude and silence; he doesn’t cry from pain or hate but from the love he always holds in his heart and the memory of that love, the memory that the gray slab of stone represents to the world, a memory he will always hold dear.

I was investigating some of the WWII institutions near Ukraine, in hopes to identify the abandoned underground “bunkers” I, and another, explored while in L’viv a couple of summers ago (called Lvov, Poland at the time of WWII). Though I did come across a lot of interesting facts regarding L’viv’s position and involvement in the war I couldn’t figure out what these bunkers actually were used for; possibly part of one of the many POW camps located in and around L’viv? One interesting thing I came across though, while researching POW camps, was why the German’s decided to “gas” POW’s instead of shooting them, as was the normal practice. The reason was simply to be “humane”, a concept that seem hardly to fit with that regime. The problem was, as German leaders notices, after the firing squads would kill hundreds of Jews, POW's, Russian villagers etc. the soldiers would be virtually useless; after participating in these mass murders they would be so emotionally disturbed that they become worthless to the German cause. The German command couldn’t stomach seeing their people’s lives ruined like this so they experimented and later implemented techniques for killing chemically, in an efficient and factory like way, as used in the killing factory of Auschwitz in the dreaded block #11. Killing this way, their own patriotic followers would be kept emotionally intact while systematically executing the people that had been dehumanized in their distorted view. See, the Nazi’s really were a humanitarian people. Hah!

season's greetings!

I was thinking of doing some kinda Christmas greeting with a Christmas Carol or something but I discovered the sound quality of my camera kinda stinks..and the lack of music makes it even worse and......(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dF4W-oAWras)
Haha, okay, I think I better stick to lip-syncing with a group. But I hope ya'll are having a wonderful holiday season as you look forward to and prepare for Christmas.

Some memories....

Good times, all too long ago.....

When I was 9 years old we, my family, lived in Northern Indiana; our home was in the middle of a twenty-four acre wooded area, complete with a small pond and large swampy area that became the breeding ground for millions of mosquitoes during the summer. I would often play in the large sandbox out behind the house by myself and during the summer I would come back inside in the evening covered with mosquito bites. However, the bits somehow constituted a trophy of sorts to my young mind “I have more mosquito bites than you!” sort of philosophy, the attention and pity I got sometimes was rewarding too I suppose.
I’ve always loved the woods, a place to escape and enjoy nature’s sights and sounds. I loved to sing in the woods, no one to laugh at the lyrics I would make up.
One day I was out in the woods, near one of my favorite places; an old tree had blown down during a past windstorm, its roots were pulled out of the ground leaving a large pit with one wall, the roots still clinging to the soil it used to be nourished by. It was far enough away from the house to be safe, or so I thought. After singing my made up songs for a few minutes, enjoy the freedom, then all at once one of my older sisters jumped out from behind a tree she had been hiding behind the whole time. Not only was I scared but I was immensely embarrassed that she had heard me singing the songs I held sacred, those I made up and sang from the heart with every once of my emotion completely transparent. Though I can’t recall what triumphant words she uttered or if she even laughed at me I still regarded it as a blatant attempt to ruin me entirely. After that incident I regarded her with even more dislike than normal, she deserved some as she was constantly trying to hurt me, in my eyes, but that incident had breached some line of conduct I had drawn and it was a very long time before I could forgive her and I always would search behind all the nearby trees afterwards to ward of any other attempts to embarrass me she might attempt, which she did many times in many ways over the years regardless of my defenses.

One chilly winter day my older brother and I were tramping around out in the swamp, the swamp would ice very nicely during the winter and was fun to play on. It would often freeze all the way through then would partly thaw and refreeze leaving thick “rotten ice” that was perfect for breaking and dragging to an island in the swamp to build a fort with foot thick ice walls. To keep us dry in the swamp we would wear fire boots passed on by our fireman uncles. They came up to our thighs and worked out great for keeping us semi-dry even though they were way too large for us.
Anyway, I decided to go walking over to a deeper part of the swamp, the ice was thick so I figured I would be fine walking on it, except I didn’t realize that the ice I was walking on was very rotten and was just waiting to break. It finally broke in at a place that was nearly 6 feet deep, far above my head back then, but I managed to cling to a tree that was nearby and stay out of the water. After yelling for a while I was thrilled to see that my older brother had heard me. We tried to decide what to do, he from the shore and me from clinging to the tree. The idea was that is we got something to lie across the ice and distribute the weight I would be able to make my way out over the yet unbroken ice. This theory, in its ingenuity, was probably the result of seeing many times Amy March rescued from the ice via a long fence post used to keep the ice from breaking further.
We didn’t have any fence posts too use and we needed something longer to get me to shore anyway so my brother dragged a 30 foot wood ladder down from the barn, about a tenth of a mile away, and laid it out on the ice. It worked perfectly and I was able to escape my icy prison clinging to the tree. I have never figured out how my 11 year old brother managed to drag the heavy wooden ladder all the way too the swamp. The next spring the ladder was still sitting in the water of the swamp, floating there and annoying my father every time we drove by” You guys need to get that ladder out of there and put it back in the barn” But I can’t recall we ever did, it’s probably still there today.

A story....

Somehow, the vibrant colors painted on the walls, no wall matching another, seemed to fit right in. Normally the bright blues startling greens and deep reds would clash and overpower, but not here. He remembered the candles, flickering their strange orange light against the walls; some were evidently scented, emanating their strong perfumes throughout the small room; peppermint, vanilla and some strange scent, hard to place. But that was so long ago, and so far away.

Some would call it tacky, the old white trailer, a wreck from the 80’s, complete with flat tires and one corner that was perceptively lower; but once again, it seemed to fit, a few cinder blocks and a broken two by four lay near the dipping corner; evidence of attempted repair at some point. An old rusty oil barren stood off to the side of the trailer, the top cut off. It was used to burn garbage, turning the discarded paper plates; plastic cups and whatever else was thrown in into thick black smoke, all that remained now were the burnt ashes; black and grey. The barrel was half full of the fine ash; the trailer must have been here awhile. He stuck a stick deep into the ash and stirred it around, the clanking of metal; he reached in and pulled out a can with burnt faded writing on the side, “COLA”. The can was old, taller than cans you see now, no shapely lines and curves.
He couldn’t remember them ever drinking cola, but maybe they did, he was just youngster back then. So many years ago……


Isn't it strange how making up or reading stories about other people, the fun they had, the adventures they shared with friends, somehow make us feel better? But still, we are jealous. Why can't I have these adventures, why can't I have the friends to share them with?

But then it's back to life, back to harsh reality that I, we, must cope with........and, I suppose, life goes on.

As Election Day draws near we hear and see its approach, not so much like a sprinter rushing on, his feet pummeling the ground, driving on with his heart for a victory. No; more like a metaphorically angry locomotive; billowing toxic black coal smoke as it pounds away down the steel tracks; probably laid there by some underpaid slave of a relentless, unforgiving society. The train lumbers on, daring anyone or anything to stand in the way of its detrimental power.

Okay, as you think of the candidates, both local and national, that are running..err..lumbering for office, you probably do not see this metaphor in your mind. Never the less, just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist….. (Or something like that).

This election year, at least on the presidential front, has left many voters, myself included, feeling rather unconvinced and uncertain. Yes, perhaps one vote doesn’t count all that much and maybe won’t really be that important on deciding who will receive this honor of becoming the next person to blame for every problem and natural disaster in the world. And yes, maybe the only job your vote will do is to cancel out the vote of Mickey Mouse. However, the idea and ideology behind voting still stands strong, if the only thing your vote means is that you can stand tall, or maybe hang your head later on, and admit or proclaim that you helped put the candidate you supported into office, that is a good enough reason to vote, for yourself.

Who to vote for though? The person who will say whatever people want to hear, that will bend to the format his fans want him to be in at the time? The one who is also so determined to take this position of power and prestige simply to add it to his portfolio that he will claim anything and denounce anything as well? Or will you vote for the person who has always stood strong, throughout his entire campaign has relied on honesty, outstanding morals and life long beliefs to be his trademark. A person who you know for sure will stand up for what is right, even when people hate him for it, a person you can trust and someone you agree with all the time. ….umm…wait a minute…..I guess we don’t have one of those candidates this election.

I, and my meager blog, like the many newspapers and journalists around the country, will endorse a presidential candidate. In John McCain I find someone I can’t believe entirely in, someone who has been at this political game a long time, and while he is decided and dependable, it’s there, it is just not necessarily on the same side of the fence as I am on some issues. Sarah, his running mate is inexperienced, as she points out again and again, and maybe doesn’t think before she speaks enough, a good person mind you, just not someone I feel I know well enough or someone that knows her own mind well enough for me to want as president quite yet. Her biggest asset is that she is female, though it’s counterbalanced by the fact that she really doesn’t connect well with the undecided female voters. She is the only hard-core republican running in this presidential race though.
Barack Obama, on the other hand, is inexperienced as well, he takes stands on issues but is quick to change his mind if people don’t like what he’s saying, standing for or who he's standing with. He’s a people’s man, determined to make them happy, to make him self look good. He does a good job of it to, unlike former democrats he manages to say just little enough to keep from contradicting his views entirely with different groups that he’s trying to impress. His party’s platform is “Change”, a word and idea that strike a cord in this country that just woke up and discovered it is in a self made crisis. This change is obviously already happening and Barack isn’t going to actually be able to do much about it, he just picked a nifty word to use. Also, I fear, in this democratic “anti-bush” sentiment, Barack and his followers in Washington will, in an attempt to be non-bush-like, destroy all of the good things he has done and all the progress he has made. Yes, though all we hear about are the bad things people blame on Bush, he has done a lot of good as well, just read a history book in a few years.
Obama’s running mate, Joe bidden, is a man who’s biggest asset to Obama is his skin color (not being racist, it’s true though) age and history of liberal politics, though he may be a help to Obama in the campaign, he’s already promised to set quietly and do nothing if elected vice-president.

I was undecided as to which candidate to back, as you can see, but over the last few weeks I see that Obama’s ideas and ideals fall far from where I stand, his smugness and desire to please have also irritated me, I want a president who stands for something even if I can’t agree with him on everything, I want someone who isn’t bent on pleasing and trying to show off and impress people. We have enough celebrities.

McCain in the last few weeks has shown a gritty determination that I can appreciate, he’s stood firm on his decisions and brought forth issues about his opponent that, while one sided of course, are valid points that Obama refuses to address, he (Obama) says many of these points of deception, questionable dealings and instability are from the past and ignores them. To me is seems the past is very important, why should we not consider his past, the past always effects the future. McCain’s past is an open book, he’s stood for what he’s stood for, been a patriot of this country and proved himself. And no, as far as I know at least, McCain never got a medal for shooting himself in the rear like someone else who ran for office not all that long ago.

So, McCain is my man, he’s not perfect but you know where he stands, he has experience in a time when are country needs it and he’s not just about making everyone happy. He’ll do what he knows is right and he’s not a follower, he’s an achiever….a Maverick, if you will.

So go vote for the candidate you want to stand with…..and then vote again. ;)

A grasshopper's Obituary-

The grass, once green and bright was now dehydrated by the rays of the hot summer sun. It was not yet dead, but in an attempt to save itself from perishing it became dry and brown; conserving its diminutive moisture in its roots, hidden deep in the dusty earth. As a gust of wind blew through the weeds, they rubbed together; the rasping sound of their rustling drew little notice. A delivery truck whizzed by, advertising on its side “Ice cold Coca-Cola”, the picture of a bottle, covered with water droplets, presumably from the cooler full of ice water it was just pulled out of, seemed ironic and out of place on the simmering day. As the truck passed the grass bent over a second later it sprang back into place.
Clinging to one especially resilient piece of grass by the road was a large grasshopper, his bulging eyes transfixed, not to where he was, but looking across the road to the small pond, still full of water from some underground spring that had not been affected by the drought. His long legs had taken him a long way, fueled on by his thirst and knowing, with some unexplainable sense, where life reviving water could be found. One last obstacle lay before him; the wide black-top road.
He had crossed this road before and had survived but had seen and heard tell of many others who had been less fortunate. No other choice was to be had though; his only course was to risk it all, to stay away from the water was certain death.
He hopped down to the edge of the road, his energy was waning from his long travels and his lack of water but he had just enough strength, he thought, to make the dash across this life stealing patch of blackness.
He leaped forward, strong legs propelling him onward in high arcs, he wasn’t sure what it was that killed so many of his kind as they crossed these paths but he hoped to avoid it by hopping the highest and longest he could.
About halfway across the road he saw, speeding towards him, an old pickup truck. Anyone could tell it was going to be close. With two leaps left the truck was practically upon him but he still held a small lead. With one last hop it looked as if he would make it; I don’t know if in his haste he didn’t push off hard enough or perhaps his strength finally gave out, we will never know. All that was left of this brave warrior of the grass, this troubadour of courage, was a green slime plastered to the already grimy windshield of an old blue pickup truck. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to die, but then, maybe this is how the old grasshopper would have wanted to go?

Work-

Though work is a subject I wish to avoid, its mere implication, on these few hours I am away from it, bring back the dread feelings of the exhaustion I have experienced as of late. However, I continue to find aspects of my job amusing, the employees I best get along with rather ironic and the assumptions people make about me humorous.

I’m probably the youngest person working in the store I manage, possibly one of our waitresses is younger than me but that is all. Even so, none of those in my employ have any idea of my true age, from what I gather the majority of them believe me to be somewhere between 26-30 years old, few would guess my true age. I will let them assume what they wish. I still find it hard to adjust though, I feel odd telling someone 30 years older than me and with 25 years more experience what to do and how to do it; I’m right in what I tell them to do but it’s still awkward, in that comical sort of way.

Pondering....

You know that strange phenomenon, where two people are walking in opposite directions down the sidewalk, or in an aisle in the Chinese imports store, and as you near the other person you both begin to doubt on which side the bypass should be made?
The other day I was walking through said import store, contemplating mysteries of the universe and also trying to decide whether I should purchase a salad or frozen pizza for dinner. As I walked down an aisle contemplating these meaningful life decisions I encountered a lady moving in the opposite direction down the same aisle. We were both moving at a superb rate, right at each other. I, in my customary gentlemanlike behavior, decided to let her decide which side to pass on and let her make the first move to avoid a collision. Unfortunately, she must have been a feminist at heart who couldn’t bear to let me be a gentleman without a fight. At what seemed like the last moment I decided to abandon my illusionary character and made the first move, side stepping to avoid her; at the same moment she gave into her femininity and also moved to the side; the same side as I had chosen. Luckily both of our brakes seemed to work well and we managed to stop ourselves with a good foot to spare from a life ending impact.
Though this not only proved that women just inflict problems for us men, it also caused an embarrassing situation as we both did a little dance trying to get around each other, which we eventually did.
I don’t know if there is a prescribed name for these aisle dance encounters, other than “awkward” of course, but as I walked away I wondered why they didn’t happen more often. Then it came to me; normally when walking in stores we use the same set of rules as those used on roads and highways, we normally walk on the right hand side of the sidewalk or aisle we are traversing on. Of course, this would also make perfect sense because aisle dances, like care accidents, are normally caused by women……just kidding of course.
I wonder though, how and on which side of the aisle and sidewalk to people pass each other on in European countries that carry a different set of driving rules? Do foreigners who visit these countries cause confusion when they walk as well as talk perhaps? I wonder if there are more human collisions with foreigners, both for us and them. I don’t know where to find such awe inspiring studies though, I’m sure some college somewhere has deemed this a worthwhile subject to inquire upon with our tax dollars via a government grant but I can’t seem to locate it. If you find it let me know.

Watching the elderly man as he stepped gingerly forward on legs, it seems, he put little trust in, shaking as if they could unexpectedly buckle at any moment. On his face, not weathered but still showing its age, was a look of concentration as he gazed before him at his goal. A moment later he stumbled forward and with all his might swung his arm, the weight he lifted in his hand was released at his aim; it was easy to see his aim was still true. He faltered and nearly fell over as his precarious balance was momentarily lost, but alas, he caught himself. All the while his eyes followed the path of his weapon, of sorts, as it glided on to the target. It proved excellent, smashing in to it with a resounding thud and bringing a brief smile to the old man's face and congratulations from his eager comrades. STRIKE!

This weekend I traveled to Hebron Kentucky and joined a group from our church and some other various friends and relations at the Creation Museum. It was very interesting, it explored and disproved the idea that creation is not backed by science. In fact, the presentations gave strong arguments against the theory of evolution, showing that the science that claims to prove this evolution theory is not only flawed with circular thinking and erroneous assumptions but also that when it really gets down to it, the idea of biblical creation is the more scientifically logical conclusion, backed more clearly explicitly by science.



I gave my camera to a young boy I knew from Indiana at the museum and let him use it all day, some of the pictures were really neat that he took, a bit of a diffrent perspective if you will.....?










After the museum Wesley and I stayed at a hotel and drove an hour over to Louisville the next morning. We pretended to be tourists and explored the city for a few hours and then went to the Kentucky Center to attend Otello; an Opera by Verdi taken from the play Othello by Shakespeare.


We had seats two rows from the stage and right in the middle, it was pretty cool! The Opera was amazing, even though it was in Italian :D






This is a bit of modern art in front of the Kentucky Center, we also almost got caught up in a AIDS walk next door to the Center that was taking place the same day : /

The Beach.....=)

Me being bored =)

A lonely heart is breaking, no, broken still. A lonely voice is singing, a beautiful song of sadness; words meant for no one, no one cares to listen. Lonely feet are walking, walking who knows where? They don’t care. Lonely hands are working, to disguise the pain. A lonely face is smiling but the tears flow on inside. Every song that is sung, every note that is played, reminds the lonely heart of just how lonely it is, just how weak. Attempts to forget, tries to go on, forever turning its back on the despair, but it’s all in vain. Even though loneliness hurts, it’s better to be lonely and to miss than to have nothing to miss and no loneliness to feel. The poignant song must go on……..

The rain falls, the sky is gray, a melodious sort of gray, like melancholy music. Beautiful in its misery, perfect in its depression, whole in its brokenness………

The warm salty breeze blows through my hair, it blows on and rustles the tall beach grass as it passes, making a sound somehow, comforting. The sand rubs between my toes; soon another wave washes in, cooling my feet. Like the receding wave, my worries are pulled away; I forget for a moment my troubles, if for but a moment. Things somehow make sense where they once made no sense at all, my thoughts are clear, like the endless blue sky. Why do I worry about what I worry about? Why do I fear what I fear? Why do I give up and give in when I do not want to and have no need to? The things that seem the most complicated become the simplest; the things that seem so important seem so trivial. That’s why I love the beach =)

History of American Technology

Some of what we've been reading has dealt with the early days of technology in this country. In particular, Pursell's book talks about early technology having essentially four features:

(1) Almost everything was made by hand or with hand-driven tools.
(2) Almost everything was built one at a time.
(3) Almost everything was made of wood or natural cloth - rare were items that weren't.
(4) Almost everything was made the same way it had been done for generations, if not centuries, with little change or innovation.

Think about this list and what we have in today's world. What difference would it make to today's world if any or all of these items were still true?

When I think about this list of how things were in the past as far as technology goes it surprises me to realize how irrelevant this list is today in view of our current technology and advances. Almost nothing that is around today in our age of technology even closely resembles how it was then at all. We do very little by hand, we produce in huge quantities, we make very little of wood or natural cloth, and instead we have turned to artificial materials such as plastics. We also see a huge influx of ideas and changes in our technology; it seems rare to find things made the same way after few years much less generations. Take computers for example, every few months technology companies come out with some new advance that improves, or at least hopes to improve, the technology of our computers. It’s hard to imagine a time that things were so different.

What differences would it make is some of these things were still true today? If we didn’t have factories for mass production, if we had to do everything by hand we would probably see a much larger social gap in society, the rich would have things and the poor would have nothing because they couldn’t afford the high prices that everything would still have. As far as the resources used to produce products, in some ways it might be better if we were not so dependent on plastics and artificial products, the pollution would be less at least. At the same time though, we wouldn’t have so many technological advances and opportunities without these new resources either.

I suppose the good far exceeds the bad as far as all of our advances but the fact that those goods that are still produced by hand, with the original resources such as wood and cloth are still valued by many and most often prices very highly show that as a society we still respect and value these traditions.

If you feel like helping me? :)

I find myself overwhelmed with school and work and beekeeping and more school, it makes it hard to get a chance to post things on the blog. I decided I'm going to post some of my short research/history papers here for peer reviews for the next month or so. If you see anything I need to fix on them or have any advice I'd appreciate it! :) Also, you may even learn something you didn't know about history while you're at it ; )
Cheers!

bees....

I somehow managed to get on a list somewhere. I keep getting calls about swarms of honey bees that people want me to come do something with. Some of the people who call seem almost desperate, can you blame them for being a little worried though? They go outside to work on some landscaping and they notice a small bush/tree that appears to be dead, as they approach the bush they realize what they thought was black dead vegetation seems to be alive, it moves and makes a humming sound. AHHH!!! Now they realize that that humming sound is coming from nearly 20,000 living insects, each baring a stinger capable of causing extreme pain! No wonder the curious human now wants these insects to be removed with all haste but what can they do? Who can they go to for help? ....Apparently I'm their man, a hero of sorts, standing up to the pain causing warrior insects, bent on protecting their new home. I treat these insects somewhat like Americans treated the Indians years ago, I don't kill them though or promise them things and then ignore my promises later. I simply take them away from their "land" ..or tree..that they have claimed and install them in a new home instead, a home where they can live happily and where they won't strike fear into the hearts of normal humans. Unfortunitly, some of the bees don't like their move, they strike back by letting their little lives end causing pain to the person who is trying to look out for their best interests. It still doesn't end in a "trail of tears" like the Cherokee's journey to their new land but too many poor bee lives are still often lost. But anyway, I just removed a swarm and have to go pick it up tonight, it's the biggest swarm I've messed with so far, totaling possible 40,000 bees. That's a lot of stings if they decide to get angry with me : / Wish me luck! :)

random pics....

A beautiful Kentucky skyline












I installed a new package of honey bees the other day, all three of the hives seem to be doing great! :)


This guy likes to hang out on the roof and look through the bathroom window here at J&J's. It's a little bit scary and kind of odd too....

As Far as the eye can see; hills, trees and small meadows filled with rich green grass. If you move closer you can see deer grazing in the grassy patches, some with their small fawns by their sides. Their small speckled bodies and playful antics bring a smile to your face; it makes you a bit jealous too, their freedom and carefree life beckon you. You wish you could join them, if only for a little while, in this carefree existence. Small streams snake through the picture, all heading towards the river. To the far left you can just make out the edge of the vast river, it slowly flows past on its way to the distant ocean, it’s in no hurry, it will get where it’s going eventually, just like you.

Thoughts from Kentucky.....

So I'm having trouble getting LiveJournal doing what I want it to do so I'm trying blogger instead....

My time of temporary residency in the state of the Bluegrass(which I never saw), missing teeth and starving horses has come to an end, for now.

I leave this state with some observations; many places have some preconceived ideas and trends associated with them. For example: you expect people from New York to drive like maniacs, you expect people from the deep south to be a bit stuck up, you expect people from Wisconsin to drink a lot of alcohol. These preconceivements tend to actually be close to the truth, it's not always the case but it does tend to be. Sometimes those trends aren't true at all though, they prove to be far from the truth indeed. When you think of Kentucky you think of people with a poor education, missing teeth, long scraggly beards. People that can't pronounce big words, can't spell, they think a long trip is driving a whole hour across the Ohio river and going to Indiana. You think of people that have never been on a plane, that have never seen a beach, people that are obsessed with hunting and fishing and can talk for hours about their guns and the trucks they've owned. These are some of the ideas that may pop into your mind when you think of Kentuckians; I wish I could say these are illusions and fabricated lies started by anti Kentuckian defamation groups. The sad fact is that Kentuckians are normally the ones that the defamation groups compare the other state they are trying to defame too. I lived in Kentucky about five months and I saw a lot of Kentuckians, I saw many long ugly beards and far to few teeth. Yes, Kentuckians are Kentuckians, that's just the way it is. Someone has to be the butt of the jokes you know.....

One guy I worked with, he's lived in Kentucky for all of his 19yrs, claimed that Louisville didn't have any letter "i"s in it.....he couldn't remember how to spell it though but insisted that you couldn't pronounce it with an "i" because it didn't have any "i"s in it!

Another Kentuckian I talked to liked the "Horses are good for Kentucky" that the "elite" people have as bumper stickers on their trucks "Yep, you always need glue and dog food" was his comment.

I heard a LOT of racist jokes and the "n" word flows freely in the Kentuckian vocabulary as a derogatory insult , it will be interesting to see who they nominate for the democratic party?

My boss graduated a Kentucky high school with 50 other students, he was one of the 4 people who graduated that attempted to attend college and was one of the 2 people that lasted over a week in college. The only one of them that graduated college was his class's valedictorian, she became a nurse.

Okay, so Kentucky is a bit sad, I could go on and on making fun of it but it would be a waste of time and wouldn't do any good because not too many Kentuckians are going to take it too heart.....not that they could read it anyway.

Altogether I really enjoyed my stay in Kentucky, it was wonderful! The family I stayed with was great, only Kenuckyish in good ways . It was a great pleasure being there and I enjoyed it immensely. I can't wait to go back to visit and wouldn't be at all upset if at some point I become more of a permanent resident in that beautiful state. Indiana looks especially flat and boring after being there, I'd much rather live in Kentucky, even if people around here do have more teeth. :)

Now I am refocusing my life and getting busy with school, hopefully I'll be able to get into Berea College this fall and continue my education as a History Teacher?

Living at home again is hard for me but I'm staying busy and keeping a smile on my face.....it will all work out......I hope....