In Photos: Merry and Bright

Happy Holidays, y'all!!

Writing the South

Recently, I found myself working on a piece of fiction.   For reasons that aren't really important, a small portion of the prologue took place in Atlanta.   I found myself struggling, because while I have been to that city several times, I don't really "know" it.   Part of me said that I should just keep plugging along, because the setting itself didn't really have any bearing on the plot of the piece.  I could email one of a dozen friends -- a few of whom even contribute to this blog-- and familiarize myself enough with the neighborhood bars/restaurants/boutiques that I would need to populate the pages of the story.  And yet, it didn’t feel authentic.  It wasn’t set in a city like Nashville or Louisville – someplace where I had lived and that I knew well.  It wasn’t set in a city like Lexington—someplace that I had grown up visiting so many times that I didn’t need a map when I finally moved there.  The entire scene just felt flat, and I soon abandoned that portion of the story.

I am a writer.  I am from Kentucky.  Does that make me a “Kentucky writer”?  Does that mean that I need to give all my essays and short stories a Kentucky setting? I’ve struggled with variants of this question for years.  Is it absolutely crucial for me, as a writer, to limit my writing to Kentucky or the South?

Image via Garden & Gun.

Often, I think, a writer, painter, or songwriter’s incorporation of a region into her work is crucial to the work itself.  The August/September issue of Garden and Gun magazine was devoted to Southern Women.  It was a charming retrospective of the role of the postmodern Southern Belle.  As I thumbed through the pages of this issue, I noticed a portrait of a couple of Southern-based artists whose work I happen to know quite well.  There was Joy Williams, the female voice in the Nashville-based duo The Civil Wars, and Emily Giffin, the litigator-turned-chick lit-maven, who lives in Atlanta.  Because I enjoy the work of both Ms. Williams and Ms. Giffin quite a bit, I found myself a little perplexed.  Ms. Williams is a California-born singer.  Ms. Giffin is from Illinois, and lived for many years in New York and London.  Yet, I would classify Ms. Williams’ roots-Americana sound as perfectly in keeping with the funky, post-country ethos of her adopted hometown of East Nashville.  On the other hand, while Ms. Giffin attended some of the finest schools in the South and currently lives in Atlanta, her novels are generally set in New York, Boston or London.  Her only novel with a Southern setting is told from the point of view of a character who generally hates the South.  While I truly enjoy Ms. Giffin’s fun and romantic stories, this hardly seems the work of a “Southern Belle” to me.  At the very least, she's hardly the Southern writer that Kathryn Stockett (also featured in this article) is.

A few weeks ago, University of Kentucky professor Nikky Finney was honored with the National Book Award for poetry.  Her powerful acceptance speech referencing the advances made by African-Americans in the South in recent decades has become something of an online phenomenon, and rightly so.  As an alumna of the University, I was thrilled to see such an incredible award being presented to such a wonderfully deserving talent.  Ms. Finney’s works evoke the memories of her coastal Carolina childhood far more than her Lexington professorship.  Stories of shrimpers and tides are far from the Bluegrass landscape.  And yet, Ms. Finney plays a driving role in Kentucky’s current literary landscape.

As I look at the previous four paragraphs on my computer screen, I wonder if I sound like a hopeless pedant.  (That particular aspersion, believe it or not, has been cast my way a time or two…)  The labels “Southern” or “Kentuckian” really don’t matter as much as establishing a connection with one’s reader.  I’ve never been to Northern Sweden, and yet, Stig Larsson’s work is my guilty literary pleasure.  I’ve never lived in a North London council flat with an array of immigrant families, yet I adore the work of Zadie Smith.  On the other hand, as a writer, I’m far more comfortable with creating characters who work in big law firms (as both my beau and I have) or who live in the Kentucky and Tennessee towns where I have lived.  Maybe the key really is the old cliché of writing what you know.  Or, just maybe, it’s a blend of writing what one knows and writing something engaging enough to transcend setting or experience.

Do y’all think a writer needs a connection to the place she writes about?

Churchill verdict from a Keeneland Purist

A few weeks ago, I made my first pilgrimage to Churchill Downs. For many biased Lexingtonians, Keeneland is the "best" race track in the state. I've heard from the Lexingtonian's that Keeneland is prettier, people dress nicer, and it is just a better overall experience. My only Churchill Downs experience has been through my television, where I watch and judge those in the Kentucky Derby infield. 

At Churchill Downs

For my first trip to Churchill Downs, hubs and I were guests of my friend Melinda who is a Kentucky Colonel. Perhaps my experience was tainted by being on Millionaire's Row, which was nicely decorated for all the Colonels, but all the areas seemed great to me.

Horses are pretty no matter where you are.

The track was well maintained, bathrooms were clean, service was good, drinks were tasty (yum bourbon), and food was as advertised. It was noticeably larger than Keeneland, but that's to be expected.

The room setup with balcony access

All in all, I don't get the fuss between one track being better than the other. They're both Kentucky gems that we should experience as much as possible. Both are the same in one key aspect: I can't seem to win money at either of them.

So, who's taking me to the Derby this year? :)

Kentucky Places: The University of Kentucky Chandler Medical Center

When you're from a rural Kentucky town, you tend to identify yourself with a "home city."  You go to Lexington, Louisville, Nashville or Cincinnati for big shopping excursions, social events, and healthcare.  You don't really even think about the distance.  It's just where you go.

Last week, my father had surgery at the University of Kentucky Medical Center.  Now, Lexington is my family's "home city", despite the fact that it's a nearly two and a half hour drive from my parents' house.  Similarly, UK is our "home school", despite the fact that most members of my family hold degrees from other universities.  We all cheer on our Wildcats, we've all attended meetings and classes on campus, and we all revere the first-rate healthcare services that the University provides.

 

Commonwealth Stadium, #RISE

It was an interesting experience to walk the University's campus with a focus on the Med Center, rather than on the school itself.  I went past so many sites that held rich memories of my own grad school years and beyond.  As I took breaks from the waiting room, I walked past the football field where I've tailgated so many times and noted the Greek housing where many of my friends once lived.  I passed the buildings where my beau and I each earned our graduate degrees.  I stopped for a second to salute Memorial Coliseum, where I've had the good fortune to watch some of the University's basketball greats practice.  So many campus buildings held such specific family memories -- there's a building named for my grandfather's least favorite professor, there's the building where my beau conducted a hilarious B-school project -- and yet, I was rushing back to the hospital, a site far removed from these happy memories.

Photo Wall, Chandler Medical Center

At some point during our hospital visit, I stopped focusing on the dichotomy of school and fun versus the scary hospital.  I listened to my aunt's stories of bringing my cousin (a toddler at the time) to the Med Center Courtyard to visit my uncle during the few brief breaks he could take during his medical residency.  And, I started to really focus on the hospital's decorations -- a dynamic photo wall of Kentucky images, a painting by my dad's distant cousin, quilt wall hangings -- which reflected the communities from which the patients and employees hailed.  The Chandler Med Center, I realized, was embracing its role as many Kentuckians' "home hospital." 

Waiting Room View

We left the Med Center on Saturday with plenty to smile about -- an excellent prognosis and the Men's Basketball Team's impressive win over North Carolina.  While a major family health crisis will never be as fond a memory as rushing the football field, earning a degree, or even an outstanding fraternity party, I was so impressed by both the standard of care and the commitment to patient comfort at UK.  I found myself suddenly paraphrasing Coach Calipari, as I began to think of the Med Center as The Commonwealth's Hospital.

Aunt Marie's Bourbon Balls

Here in Kentucky, we take our bourbon seriously. We all have a favorite brand (I'm a Maker's Mark girl). Some of us even

dress our bourbon up to keep it festive

.

In my family, it just isn't the holiday season until somebody makes a batch of bourbon balls.  These are adapted from my Great-Aunt Marie's recipe, and are my go-to holiday treat.  I love to make up little bags or boxes to give as last-minute presents or to take to holiday gatherings.  The melted chocolate is a little tricky, but they're so worth the hassle.

• 1 to 2 cups good bourbon whisky (preferably Maker's Mark) 
• 1 cup chopped pecans
• 1/2 to 1 cup whole pecan halves (optional) 
• 1 two-pound bag of powdered sugar
• 1 stick butter, softened
• 1-2 bags semisweet chocolate chips (preferably Ghiradelli)
• paraffin wax

1. Place 1/2 to 1 cup of chopped pecans in shallow bowl. Pour Maker's Mark over nuts, immersing completely. Cover and let soak 12 hours to overnight. 
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pecan halves in shallow pan and toast lightly for about ten minutes. 
3. Cream butter in stand mixer fitted with paddle attachment. Combine bourbon-pecan mixture with just enough powdered sugar to form a stiff ball. Refrigerate to let stiffen slightly. 
4. Roll dough into walnut-sized balls. 
5. In double-boiler (or a sauce pan placed over a cooker full of boiling water), add a third to a half a bag of semisweet chocolate chips and a small shaving of paraffin wax (no more than 1/4 cup). Heat until just smooth. Dip dough balls into the chocolate mixture. The key is to coat them quickly and make small, frequent batches of melted chocolate. 
6. Place bourbon balls on wax paper to cool. Top each with a toasted pecan half, if desired. Results are better if you leave them to cool at room temperature rather than in the refrigerator.

In Photos: The Castle

The drive from Elizabethtown to Lexington always took me past the famous "castle" in Versailles, Kentucky, right outside of Lexington. I always thought this castle was a beautiful landmark. It caught on fire, but was rebuilt and turned into a hotel and tourist attraction.

Stay a day...

My grandmother always says, "If you don't like the weather in Kentucky, stay a day it will change."

However, I'd like to recommend if you are bemoaning the weather any time between late November through mid March, don't stay a day. Get the hell out.

Kentucky winters are grey, rainy, and bleak.

When we first moved here my husband expressed some serious dismay at the never-ending rain. Currently, we are on our third straight day of cold rain.

"Where have you brought me?!?" he exclaimed.

I always welcome the rain at first. I love rainy days. It's like Mother Nature is giving you an excuse to be lazy. You can stay in, read a book, lay on the couch. Of course, now I have a two-year-old and an infant so rain days are spent slowly. going. crazy.

One rainy day is bad enough. Last winter, I think it rained for a week straight. It felt like two. (And we won't even talk about the Flood.) It just gets old is what I'm saying, particularly when the holidays are over and there is nothing to break up the monotony of the cold, grey days.

Thanks only to climate change we've started getting more snow, which in some ways lifts the veil of grey but in others makes life miserable because most Kentucky towns (at least the ones in Western Kentucky) are ill-equipped to handle true winter weather.

Not to mention, some times the winter weather is just enough to cause some real damage (see Ice Storm 2009). No sledding. No beautiful snowscapes. Just ice and sleet, which is even worse.

Luckily, Kentucky springs are the stuff of dreams and Kentucky falls are the prettiest around. They make up for the winters...but just barely.