Western Kentucky

My wise elder tells me that everyone she has ever known from Kentucky was depressed, and oddly enough, I suspect that might be true, but not because everyone in or from Kentucky is depressed, but because among those she would tend to be acquainted with, well, I get it. And really, mostly I get it because I’ve felt it here among so many of the people, not all, no, but many, and I get that the thing to do is to stuff oneself with fatty foods, lots of fat folks here, and they eat, bigly, drink pretty bigly, too, that 30-pack was not going to last her man friend very long when he got home, that’s the way of the men of a tug boat crew, but for the time being, it would have to do.

There were still a few in the fridge, when he started getting close to out, she’d come get another 30 pack. That they make 30 packs kind of gets me, but then, it’s cheap corporate swill, and he drinks it like water, even if I never ever did see anybody inclined to sit and drink 30 x 12 oz (I guess they’re 12 oz, maybe 16 oz, I don’t know, I’ve not ever been in to cans of anything, and certainly not cans of cheap corporate swill) so like 360 oz which is like, over 2 gallons of water in a single sitting.

Now, the folks here at Patti’s 1880’s settlement, which was actually settled during the 1970s or maybe 1950’s, I could read their bizarre literature in detail, looked at it, read part of the story and thought WTF, maybe they were doing it 1880’s style back in the 50’s, what with the water wheel they have down the road at the settlement, which is like, 4 miles from the Patti’s Piece of Poop Motel, and it’s funny I’m so down on it, because it’s clean, the folks are nice enough, but it has such an over the top Praise Patti (Grandma, I think) vibe to it, and the recipes for the food in the way, way over the top expensive restaurant, not as restaurants go, but as crappy diners go, and the menu is 100% crappy diner, which really, is what it is, maybe the $7 pieced of pie are good, I don't know, and of course a body can’t buy a burger that weighs less than half a pound, as if anyone in her right mind wants to eat half a pound of beef with all the trimmings in a single sitting any more than she wants to drink 2 gallons of cheap corporate swill.

And what really, really just makes me twitch here is the over the top covering every single surface, too much, not in my room, thank the gods, perhaps they have some sort of sensitivity to religious and or spiritual diversity, but I doubt it, but the over the top effing Christmas decorations, like, a week before Halloween.

Apparently, it’s part of the draw here. Now, down in the village, Patti’s Village, and by the gods, it is Patti’s village, the American Flags kind of detract, a little, from the Christmas decorations, but probably not at night, where Patti and her progeny all take over the top (it’s all kind of over the top, this place) pride in having won the Best Christmas Light Show in all of Western Kentucky.

I hope the Christ appreciates all those lights, and stuffed bears, and the miles and miles of ribbon, and all those plastic Santas, and all of that crap strewn all over town, or not town, it’s a village, and it’s Patti’s village, they’ve probably got her sanctified all over the place, too, I mean, her picture is on the signs all over the village, or her picture from back in the 50’s, or 70’s, or whatever it was, it might even be on the motel sign, I’m not sure, but I’m sure that the motel was built by the family, it’s fairly new, and pretty big, 3 or 4 stories at least, and clean, and really quite cheap.

The whole village seems to be family. A couple or few look a little inbred. Not too depressed though, it is, after all, their village.

I was reminded on the way here of something I’d forgotten about, that interview at Western Kentucky University in Bowling Green. It all came back to me when I drove past the sign. It wasn’t my first ABD interview, nor was it my last before that successful defense, I’m thinking it was the second, but it was very definitely the one that hurt. 

Funny I’d forgotten about it.

The first was at Slippery Rock University in PA. My first job interview rejection, in life, at age forty four, ever. I was really okay with it, it was the trial run, what does this feel like, and mostly I was okay with it because the guy who was chair of that department was such a jerk, and the faculty were unhappy, clearly, and the guy who was the chair of the search committee and the chair of the department very obviously despised each other, it was quite the interesting experience, I knew I was rejected before I left there, which was fine, because I’d not been super sweet to the jerk.

That’s fine, too. It’s who I am, he was who he was. We got each other.

No big deal, that interview. They wanted a plant eco-physiologist, which to them, really, meant cellular molecular level physiology and not whole plant, and the entomologist wasn’t real interested in sharing his IRGA, being the whole bug guy that he was, he wanted to be out in the field with the IRGA, wanted the plant physiologist to be back in the lab. Me, I’m a whole plant person, and yeah, I liked my old IRGA, too, think sharing is nice, and gosh, like the field a whole lot more than I like the lab too. 

But Western Kentucky University kind of broke my heart, taught me something I did not know about the process, at all. That was mostly a hort job, whole plants, whole landscapes, there was all kinds of potential there, they were looking for new crops, tobacco was dying (justly) as a cash crop, and there was some interest in herbalism, more traditional medicinal crops as possible replacements. That sounded like a fun pursuit, even as I played it up as we went along. I could do that.

And I’d learned from that first interview at Slippery Rock, showed up with a great research presentation, it fit the bill, a great teaching presentation, it went over well with the mostly old fart but a few also young men in the department, one or two women, we had lively question and answer sessions. And indeed, I had a great relationship with the old fart who was that search committee chair, we talked a lot, the social interaction went really smoothly, I was still in to such things back then.

I flew out of Kentucky confident I’d be offered the job. I’d already started shopping real estate, there was land to be had, green land, exactly what I needed after thirteen long years in the desert, a decent salary, benefits, and the idea of a life teaching about growing plants to a bunch of Kentucky kids, that sounded just fine to me.

A month or so later I got the letter saying thanks, but no thanks. It takes that long. I was shocked. But not broken, or done, no, and I read some advice, talked to some folks and made the decision to email that faculty member I’d hit it off so well with, the search chair, and ask if he had any pointers or suggestions he might offer as to what had gone wrong for me there, how I might improve for my next interview.

He responded, right off, a super nice guy. He told me I’d done great, there was little to no room for improvement, he was confident I’d find the right job, he’d liked me bunches. Thing was, they’d kind of already had this boy, and that’s how he said it, a local boy, picked out for the job. The whole interview process and bring in the candidates and such was just protocol, something that had to be done to satisfy the EEOC folks, it’s how the system works. He didn’t say that, directly, didn’t have to, again, I talked to folks, figured it out.

And indeed, it’s how the system works. They can’t just give the job to the guy they’re going to give the job to, they have to play let’s pretend we’re really looking. I did one of those in CA, too, after I’d earned tenure. They didn’t even have to pay to get me there, they know the drill, have lots and lots of local candidates. They did give me an interview, at least.

It’s great practice for the folks who get interviews, for sure. 
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And gosh, I’ve digressed. Perhaps today I’ll go out and learn to love Kentucky.
I’d liked WKU quite a bit.