Catching up from the weekend on Facebook ...
Showing posts with label Tollesboro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tollesboro. Show all posts
Monday, November 18, 2019
Oh, Kentucky
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Oh, Kentucky
Here's some incredible footage to the Tornado in Ohio County. https://t.co/6CRZFrVOwF— WBKR (@WBKR) June 26, 2018
Good jobs news from Mortons Gap.
Project Talent catches up with the Corbin Senior High classes of 1960-63.
The travel-insurance provider for a WKU professor injured in Vietnam appears to have buckled from media pressure.
Kentucky dry cleaners, freelance writers and other service providers are trying at midyear to figure out how the state's new new sales-tax code applies to their businesses, and, at the moment I type this entry, TaxAnswers.Ky.gov is timing out to an error message.
Rest in peace, Lucille Trumbo Applegate, Tollesboro-born/Foxport-based widow of "Buster," appreciative grandmother and lover of vegetable farming, traveling, crocheting, rooting for UK basketball and "playing a good game of Rummy."
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Oh, Kentucky
Shaun King of the New York Daily News and Woodford County High: "What I am doing is not enough, though. Police brutality, by every statistical measure is the worst it's ever been. Racial terror is real in this country. The deadliest hate crime against African Americans in the past 85 years didn't happen in 1955, 1965, or 1975, but happened LAST YEAR in Charleston. LAST YEAR. On our watch, in our lives. Police are murdering are sons and daughters, mothers and fathers with relative impunity all over this country."
In Dunnville--and, apparently, across south-central Kentucky--"(l)ack of workers is now my No. 1 inhibiting growth factor, bar none."
We've made the turn to the back nine toward Christmas, and early next week in Berea is the time to get your act together.
Good things ahead! An update on the upcoming expansion of the @BSCTC05 Pikeville Campus from Pres. @DevinStephenson: pic.twitter.com/QmYw6UwhxQ— City of Pikeville (@PikevilleBuzz) July 6, 2016
Friday, June 7, 2013
Oh, Kentucky
Paducah's old Kresge is coming down, but, thankfully and gloriously, MP3s of its old overhead background music can be downloaded from OddioOverplay.com (5 stars, highly recommended!).
"Hardin County is sitting on a great series of reports. It has the attention of the state. Things are going well and it’s time now to push ourselves to another level. Don’t be content. Go all in."
This week's #TBT at Kentuckeean.com features downtown Lexington, 1973.
I'd never heard of Rudell Stitch.
I'd never heard of Rudell Stitch.
Reliving the beginnings of the Metcalfe County High marching Hornets.
Could we be at the end for the West Jessamine marching Colts?
Could we be at the end for the West Jessamine marching Colts?
Gov. John Y. Brown opened an economic-development office for Kentucky in Japan in 1983. This guy was the first employee, and now he's retiring.
Battle of the #kyproud wines.
Transylvania's faculty want the university president to go.
UK's coach needs ("respectfully") the shipments to his house to stop.
What was Greg Oden doing in Bowling Green?
The show, which didn't, won't go on in Mayfield.
All systems are go for Frankfort's Funnel Cake 5K, however.
Also, I know we've noted the ongoing 400-mile yard sale across U.S. 68 a few times already this week, but I'm doing so again today just to have an excuse to use the following picture from 400mile.com.
Transylvania's faculty want the university president to go.
UK's coach needs ("respectfully") the shipments to his house to stop.
What was Greg Oden doing in Bowling Green?
The show, which didn't, won't go on in Mayfield.
All systems are go for Frankfort's Funnel Cake 5K, however.
Also, I know we've noted the ongoing 400-mile yard sale across U.S. 68 a few times already this week, but I'm doing so again today just to have an excuse to use the following picture from 400mile.com.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Oh, Kentucky
Ah-most here. Ah-most.
Will the Bengals come to Georgetown as usual?
Smart Grid!
Revitalizing downtowns.
Dippin' Dots innovates.
Are southern Kentucky's crime statistics bad or good news?
Prayer, the police chief and fireworks.
From soldier to Civilian. Dad's version ...
My trip back east was much different than my trip west the year before. I rode a pullman car on my way out but going home, I was assigned a standard tilt back seat in a passenger car. That ride home would not be as enjoyable as was my first. Not only because of accommodations but mostly because I was not that same excited young man as when I first went to California. Another reason being; aftermath of my horrible war was evident throughout that troop train.
My seat was a window seat only because the right foot of a corporal sitting to my left was missing, he depended on crutches. An Army sergeant, in the seat directly in front, had a missing hand. Scattered throughout my car were a number of other such casualties. Seeing those dismembered was a sobering experience, it was then and there I realized how lucky I had been. As has been said before, war is truly hell.
Those fellows about were engrossed with their own problems and therefore we socialized very little. Each time I tried conversation, those men seemed not interested. It was evident they wanted only to be left alone. Our car porter, sensing I needed relief from misery about, moved near and whispered in my ear. He suggested if I cared to, I could walk a number of cars to the rear, and ride the outside platform of the train caboose. He stated he himself did so quite often. His suggestion proved to be great except that to get to that caboose, I walked through a windowless boxcar which contained caskets stacked one on the other. Those caskets contained bodies of men who didn't make it. Once again I caught faint whisps of that odor of death. Gosh, I wondered, will this thing never end?
When at the caboose, a flagman offered me a cup of hot coffee, and I exited through the rear door out into much needed fresh air. I sat myself on a fold-type wooden chair, raised my feet and rested them on the platform railing. I rode that platform well into darkness and most likely late into that night.
Under a full moon, riding that caboose platform hearing clickity clack of train rails, my mind drifted ... I had little interest to return home and to my family. I was visiting home only because I believed it something I had to do. Why my non-interest? ... Time and again, I told myself how nice it would be to see my family again--but to no avail. On the platform of that caboose, at that particular time, what I personally needed was a haven of peace and quiet ... time to quiet my own emotions and decide that which was best for me.
That first night of my train ride home I slept on a bench inside that caboose. In fact, other than to use a toilet or eat my boxed food, I would spend the rest of my trip either inside that caboose or riding its rear platform.
While riding that platform that second night out I wanted to somehow generate interest to see home again. I silently scolded myself, told myself how long it had been since seeing Mom and Dad, and how nice it would be to once again visit. Try as I did, nothing seemed to work. The thought crossed my mind that maybe if I forced myself to remember the old days, remember as far back as possible, then maybe such recollections would change my attitude. In solitude, I forced myself to remember far back as possible ... even to the only memory I had of my grandfather. Back to when I was 6 or 7 years old and living on Princeton Pike, to when I learned to milk a cow and draw water from our water well. I conjured up visions of Munn's School and Miss Mabel Feagan, hunting quail with Dad and that first time when Mom showed signs of illness. I visioned living on Princeton Pike, the little white house, raising chickens, going to see the 1937 flood with Dad, and when we moved in town to our new house on Sugg Street. I focused on when Mom, Charlene and I sang on the radio and at fairs. Of camping with my brother Billy and when Judith Ann was born. I remembered how hurt I was when we moved to Henderson ... then to Evansville ... then, without warning, the face of that dead Japanese ...
I leapt from that wooden fold chair, leaned over the rail of that caboose platform, and vomited all over the state of Colorado. I cried, dried my eyes, straightened myself, found strength and walked back inside that caboose. In control again, I promised myself not to remember anything for a while--to just relax and let things come as they may.
Will the Bengals come to Georgetown as usual?
Smart Grid!
Revitalizing downtowns.
Dippin' Dots innovates.
Are southern Kentucky's crime statistics bad or good news?
Prayer, the police chief and fireworks.
From soldier to Civilian. Dad's version ...
My trip back east was much different than my trip west the year before. I rode a pullman car on my way out but going home, I was assigned a standard tilt back seat in a passenger car. That ride home would not be as enjoyable as was my first. Not only because of accommodations but mostly because I was not that same excited young man as when I first went to California. Another reason being; aftermath of my horrible war was evident throughout that troop train.
My seat was a window seat only because the right foot of a corporal sitting to my left was missing, he depended on crutches. An Army sergeant, in the seat directly in front, had a missing hand. Scattered throughout my car were a number of other such casualties. Seeing those dismembered was a sobering experience, it was then and there I realized how lucky I had been. As has been said before, war is truly hell.
Those fellows about were engrossed with their own problems and therefore we socialized very little. Each time I tried conversation, those men seemed not interested. It was evident they wanted only to be left alone. Our car porter, sensing I needed relief from misery about, moved near and whispered in my ear. He suggested if I cared to, I could walk a number of cars to the rear, and ride the outside platform of the train caboose. He stated he himself did so quite often. His suggestion proved to be great except that to get to that caboose, I walked through a windowless boxcar which contained caskets stacked one on the other. Those caskets contained bodies of men who didn't make it. Once again I caught faint whisps of that odor of death. Gosh, I wondered, will this thing never end?
When at the caboose, a flagman offered me a cup of hot coffee, and I exited through the rear door out into much needed fresh air. I sat myself on a fold-type wooden chair, raised my feet and rested them on the platform railing. I rode that platform well into darkness and most likely late into that night.
Under a full moon, riding that caboose platform hearing clickity clack of train rails, my mind drifted ... I had little interest to return home and to my family. I was visiting home only because I believed it something I had to do. Why my non-interest? ... Time and again, I told myself how nice it would be to see my family again--but to no avail. On the platform of that caboose, at that particular time, what I personally needed was a haven of peace and quiet ... time to quiet my own emotions and decide that which was best for me.
That first night of my train ride home I slept on a bench inside that caboose. In fact, other than to use a toilet or eat my boxed food, I would spend the rest of my trip either inside that caboose or riding its rear platform.
While riding that platform that second night out I wanted to somehow generate interest to see home again. I silently scolded myself, told myself how long it had been since seeing Mom and Dad, and how nice it would be to once again visit. Try as I did, nothing seemed to work. The thought crossed my mind that maybe if I forced myself to remember the old days, remember as far back as possible, then maybe such recollections would change my attitude. In solitude, I forced myself to remember far back as possible ... even to the only memory I had of my grandfather. Back to when I was 6 or 7 years old and living on Princeton Pike, to when I learned to milk a cow and draw water from our water well. I conjured up visions of Munn's School and Miss Mabel Feagan, hunting quail with Dad and that first time when Mom showed signs of illness. I visioned living on Princeton Pike, the little white house, raising chickens, going to see the 1937 flood with Dad, and when we moved in town to our new house on Sugg Street. I focused on when Mom, Charlene and I sang on the radio and at fairs. Of camping with my brother Billy and when Judith Ann was born. I remembered how hurt I was when we moved to Henderson ... then to Evansville ... then, without warning, the face of that dead Japanese ...
I leapt from that wooden fold chair, leaned over the rail of that caboose platform, and vomited all over the state of Colorado. I cried, dried my eyes, straightened myself, found strength and walked back inside that caboose. In control again, I promised myself not to remember anything for a while--to just relax and let things come as they may.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Oh, Kentucky
This isn't exactly news, but Uncle Lee's is no more in Paducah. Gone, but not forgotten. And it's not gone from Greenville.
COC ... yeah, you know me! Cutting heads for Christ! Love it.
Drugs stink.
The Harlan Writer's Guild is incentivizing the behavior it desires.
Kentucky's "Green Bank."
Thank you, Hardin County extension agent Amy Aldenderfer and Sarah Berkshire of The News-Enterprise, for this news I can use. Great point about the lack of stem.
What to make of the surge in homeless voters?
The new local economic-development director "said it was while he was living away that he would think often of the untapped potential of Lewis County."
His will not be an easy job.
Behind the good jobs news from E-town.
Michelle Bachmann or Sarah Palin in Richmond?
COC ... yeah, you know me! Cutting heads for Christ! Love it.
Drugs stink.
The Harlan Writer's Guild is incentivizing the behavior it desires.
Kentucky's "Green Bank."
Thank you, Hardin County extension agent Amy Aldenderfer and Sarah Berkshire of The News-Enterprise, for this news I can use. Great point about the lack of stem.
What to make of the surge in homeless voters?
The new local economic-development director "said it was while he was living away that he would think often of the untapped potential of Lewis County."
His will not be an easy job.
Behind the good jobs news from E-town.
Michelle Bachmann or Sarah Palin in Richmond?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Oh, Kentucky
The recovery feels real, but it's still easy to be discouraged in Kentucky. The jobless rate was up in January. Downtown icons of prosperity are still disappearing. A lot of folks are still having a really hard time. And pretty much every day there's another story of metal stuff being stolen to be sold for scrap.
Of course, all of this makes the good news especially appreciated.
Kentucky's most frequent (listed) Tweeters. HeathPostdotcom needs to list itself soon.
Family, Morale, Welfare, Recreation and "Free Bird."
With one day of voting to go, can Paducah hold off Sheridan, Wyo.?
It's not just my main man, Darius Miller, whom Maysville and environs will be rooting for the rest of March.
Boys' one and done: Winchester George Rogers Clark High School's jerseys say "Clark County." ... Appears tickets are $12 or $17 at Rupp Arena or $8 at participating schools. ... "Dad, did you ever win a regional championship?" Entertaining feature on Bardstown's coach and his sons from Jody Demling in The Courier-Journal today. ... Jason Frakes is bringing it, too: "There are no first-timers in this year's field, but two schools broke long droughts. Ninth Region champion Dixie Heights is in the field for the first time since 1957. Bell County is in for the first time since 1980." ... Warren Central gets the first shot to take down the tournament favorites. ... Keith Jenkins, writing in Hopkinsville's Kentucky New Era: "Under (Kerry) Stovall, who took over the program in 2002, the Colonels have won five of the six Region 2 tournament championships since 2006. Christian County’s only defeat in that span was to Randy McCoy’s McDonald’s All-American Scotty Hopson-led University Heights Academy team in 2008." ... WHOP has been "(C)overing high school sports for 71 years!" It's not about to stop tomorrow. Tune in at 5:06 p.m. Wednesday to hear coverage of County in the Sweet Sixteen.
Hooray for maps!
Hooray for bookmobiles!
Of course, all of this makes the good news especially appreciated.
Kentucky's most frequent (listed) Tweeters. HeathPostdotcom needs to list itself soon.
Family, Morale, Welfare, Recreation and "Free Bird."
With one day of voting to go, can Paducah hold off Sheridan, Wyo.?
It's not just my main man, Darius Miller, whom Maysville and environs will be rooting for the rest of March.
Boys' one and done: Winchester George Rogers Clark High School's jerseys say "Clark County." ... Appears tickets are $12 or $17 at Rupp Arena or $8 at participating schools. ... "Dad, did you ever win a regional championship?" Entertaining feature on Bardstown's coach and his sons from Jody Demling in The Courier-Journal today. ... Jason Frakes is bringing it, too: "There are no first-timers in this year's field, but two schools broke long droughts. Ninth Region champion Dixie Heights is in the field for the first time since 1957. Bell County is in for the first time since 1980." ... Warren Central gets the first shot to take down the tournament favorites. ... Keith Jenkins, writing in Hopkinsville's Kentucky New Era: "Under (Kerry) Stovall, who took over the program in 2002, the Colonels have won five of the six Region 2 tournament championships since 2006. Christian County’s only defeat in that span was to Randy McCoy’s McDonald’s All-American Scotty Hopson-led University Heights Academy team in 2008." ... WHOP has been "(C)overing high school sports for 71 years!" It's not about to stop tomorrow. Tune in at 5:06 p.m. Wednesday to hear coverage of County in the Sweet Sixteen.
Hooray for maps!
Hooray for bookmobiles!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)