If you've never heard Ryan Adams' "Oh My Sweet Carolina" off of his debut solo album, Heartbreaker, please do yourself a favor and listen to it right now.
You'll notice there's a line near the end that goes:
"Up here in the city, feels like things are closing in. The sunset's just my light bulb burning out. I miss Kentucky and I miss my family. Oh, the sweetest winds they blow across the south."
My light bulb doesn't need to be burning out for these words, sung over Ryan's slightly muted, dusty guitar tones, to send a bittersweet bolt of longing up my spine and through my heart.
I grew up in Kentucky, lived there from age three to age twenty-six. Two years ago, Emily and I moved away to a life in Los Angeles, chasing a dream. We left our home behind. As the Christmas season rolls in and I (fortunately) prepare myself for another trip to Kentucky to see family and friends, I find myself reflecting on home more than usual.
The meaning of the word "home" is varied. In a literal sense, home is where one comes to rest. To eat, abide, and live.
In another sense, the word "home" takes on a more nuanced meaning. It transcends geography and physical presence. This is home in the profoundest, most immovable sense.
Since moving away from home, the potency of power with which this song tortures and delights me has grown exponentially. Caught up in the song's trance recently, I was stolen over with irresistible affection for my home state. For better or worse, the good and the bad, I've loved it.
The following is not meant to dazzle, but rather, to illuminate the heavy load of affection for home that I carry with me. I now share it with you:
I love Kentucky.
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| Photo by Audra Stratton |
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| Photo by Jonny Walls |
I love her green rolling hills. I love how quiet, open, mysterious, yet warm and inviting they are. I love them covered in snow, the black bare trees the only breaks in the otherwise pristine blanket of white.
I love the rain. In the summer, it's warm rain. It's like showering outdoors. Elvis knew it then, and I know it now.
I love Red River Gorge in the fall. I love the leaves. I love every rock climbed, every peak gained, every cigar smoked.
I love every Kentucky sunset.
I love Kentucky Basketball—the tradition, Rupp Arena, the collective longing of the Bluegrass Faithful to see our beloved Cats rise to victory. I love the unity of it all.
I love the Kentucky River. I love every paddle stroke of every canoe trip, every fishing line cast, every bass caught, every catfish not caught (by me), every precarious walk across the locks, every craned neck strained toward the palisades, every frigid drop of the Dix River, every night camped on her banks.
I love the winding back roads. I love every stone fence, every horse farm. I love every summer drive with the top down. I love every late night adventure into strange counties. I love Indian Falls. I love every tree bent, every trail traversed.
I love the reflection of the Louisville skyline on the Ohio River at night.
I love Lexington. I love Triangle Park and every late night walk by the lighted fountains: proms, weddings, impromptu trips with friends. I love Lexington Green, Joseph-Beth, and every wintertime conversation by the fire in the cafe. I love every cup of vanilla almond tea.
I love Nicholasville. I love every Jamboree, JYSA soccer game, and snow cone. I love West Jessamine High. I love every class skipped (every single one of them). I love every 4 a.m. Wal-Mart run, every 4 a.m. Waffle House run. I love Fiesta Mexico. I even love Edgewood plaza.
I love Wilmore. I love every business come and gone, every church, every long summer night of church camp. I love Wilmore UM and everyone who came through its doors. I love every fire in the bell tower (which I did not start). I love every walk across town, every Ale8 drunk, every rule broken, every cop called, every game of bicycle tag, every house TP'd, every back yard sneaked. I love every local rock show. I love every all-night gaming session. I love every glass of bourbon, every Camel Light, Turkish, Jade and Silver, every kiss, every rejection, every band practice, every gathering, every party, every blowout. I love every ice storm, every drought, every snow day, every summer night. Every laugh. Every tear.
I love my home. I love everyone who was a part of it: friends, my family, and everyone else.
It's funny how death is such an integral part of Life. We must constantly put parts of our lives, parts of ourselves, to death. It's imperative to growth, to movement. We all, sooner or later, have to let go of someone or something. Letting go doesn't have to mean ceasing to remember, to love. But it means moving on.
I live in California now. I love it here, and this is where Emily and I need to be. The part of me that calls Kentucky home in the literal sense is no longer calling the shots, but he's still hanging around. Maybe he always knew it would come to this. Maybe he's the one who kept insisting we listen to "Oh My Sweet Carolina," building his case for the day when he would try to drive me back east. He must be put to death. It's harder than one might think. It's a process. It hurts, but it's necessary.
Is there some version of you hanging around that needs to be put down?
The part of me that calls Kentucky home in that other sense, however, he's not going anywhere. Ever. He'll always be here, reminding me who I am and where I came from. He'll always find new ways and excuses to point my toes back east, even if it's for just a few days at a time.
Kentucky, I love you. I always will.
By Jonny Walls
11 comments:
Amen brother.
This made me cry, and laugh. I listen to that song every now and a bit for the same reason. I feel the same way about KY, although my time there was much shorter, the beauty of it all will last my lifetime. There was an invisible string connecting my inner soul to Wilmore, when I was supposed to be there, that is now cut. And even though I wish to re-connect it sometimes, it would be false. Perhaps it will be there again someday, who knows?
Very Well said Gepetto! I kind of want to leave for a bit so i miss it this way.
Just... effing... yes. Absolutely. I can't wait to raise a glass with you in two weeks' time. As one of your many compatriots during the many good times mentioned, may I just say that I hope that the words Kentucky and Home will forever be linked in your heart and mind.
Beautiful, brother.
Thanks for the kind words everyone. Glad this is resonating with some folks.
Couldn't have said it better. All my thoughts and feelings almost perfectly stated. The sweetest winds they blow across the south...
Ah, yes. Emily and I get teary-eyed when we see barbed wire surrounding air fields and small brick cookie cutter houses whose only variance is the rank and last name of the occupant over the garage door. Seriously though, I miss that everything stops when the flag goes up in the morning and down at night and At noon for the national anthem. And that drivers stop to let you cross even if there isn't a crosswalk.
¡Buenoooo!
Well said, Jonny. Although Kentucky was not my home of origin, it was my home for a decade - and what a decade it was! We've been gone for a dozen years now. And, though I have many places that have captured my heart, none have caught it quite like Kentucky. This longing for "home," and the many, many meanings that one word can genuinely have is a mystery I have grown to love living in. And, having said that, I will simply add that the bluegrass state is certainly one of my dearest "homes." I am grateful!
Nice piece here Jonny. The longer I go the more glad I am to be from Kentucky. Liked this piece. Made me want to take the kids fishing on the Kentucky River, just down Harrodsburg Road for me.
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