From Louisville, Kentucky she headed to Nashville, Tennessee with her new boyfriend. She is 37 years old and her significant other told me, “She was tired of her daddy taking all but $100 of her disability check.”
"You don’t know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.” — Bob Marley (via BerkLee’s mom, the parent of a down syndrome child – quote posted on “Mighty Proud Media”)
It was like walking through a bad movie set in California… At the same time, it felt as if someone was watching my every step.
I was at Guntown Mountain Amusement Park in Cave City, Kentucky. The park opened in 1969 and closed down a number of years ago. It was later purchased by a Louisville, KY businessman who had big dreams in 2015. Will Russell renamed the park “Funtown Mountain” and reopened it with the idea of a multi-million dollar renovation plan set for the near future.
While the park was once again opened in 2015, the renovation plan was never executed.
The Courier Journal newspaper reported that Mr. Russell saw his plans threatened after a severe manic episode related to bipolar disorder. Later that year, the Cave City Police Department shut down Funtown after vandalism and looting were reported on the property. The article suggested that Will Russell somehow instigated the crime, but failed to report as to why that accusation was made.
The newly named Funtown was quickly closed for good when bank payments could not be made on loans to keep the park active. It was later sold at Auction in April of 2016 for less than $300,000. The new owner had grand plans of turning the property into a resort complete with zip lines, cabins and an indoor water park. Those grandiose plans have yet to materialize and the park sits like the movie set of an old Friday the 13th movie.
“We're all lonely for something we don't know we're lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody we've never even met?”
― David Foster Wallace, American Writer (1962-2008)
The photo, dark as the room... No flash utilized to emphasize the true feeling as you walk in.
They sat quietly in their small motel room rolling their own cigarettes to save money. Everything they own was inside the small 12 X 17 foot room that was coated in a smoke filled purple. Lamps lit the space occupied by the couple and their small dog.
Daniel told me the most painful thing he grew up with was his adopted father calling him retarded time and time again due to his learning disability. He said that his step father, who is actually his uncle that adopted him at age two, told him that he would amount to nothing.
Cassie said the most painful memory she has was that her father would tell her that she should not love her mother. Of course, she lived with her mother and three siblings. It was her mother that raised her, fought for her and held down a job while living in a motel so that Cassie and the others would have a place to sleep.
Once you are down, it is hard to get back up. Cassie explained that not too many months back, she had to stay at the motel where her mother lives for two weeks while her mom was hospitalized. She stayed in her mother’s room to look after her two younger siblings that had to be in school each day while her mother clung to life with her kidneys and even heart slowly shutting down.
Like Cassie, her mother is a fighter. She survived. But, it is one thing after another when you are at the bottom. A $20 bill can feel like a $4,000 bill. A $600 motel room is likely equivalent to a $5,000 house payment when you can barely afford food. Help for depression, it is almost nonexistent, as explained by Cassie while sitting in her dimly lit room.
Hear the entire story below (8MIN and 41SEC):
"It's not whether you get knocked down, it's whether you get up." - Vince Lombardi
Rick is from Syracuse N.Y., but later moved to Kentucky for the local university in Richmond where he says he taught up until computers were brought in as teaching devices.
“How old do you think I am,” he asked me. I did not know where to start guessing, which he could obviously tell as he blurted out, “71, No one believes me.”
He told me about his love for music and said, “I play the French Harp.” Surprised I asked, “You have a harp… Like a giant gold leafed harp?” He smiled and laughed… “They call the harmonica the French Harp. It is a name that dates well before your time.”
“How is it that music can, without words, evoke our laughter, our fears, our highest aspirations?” ― Jane Swan, former Professor of History at West Chester University in Pennsylvania (1925-2010)
“I’ve been coming here since I was a baby,” he told me while standing inside the back entrance to the Keenland Racecourse in Lexington, Kentucky. The track is a Thoroughbred horse racing facility that was first opened in 1936.
With a history that spans over 80 years, lots of residents in Kentucky have memories growing up around the track. “My daddy worked here for years with the horses,” he explained.
*(Sorry for the language, not mine, but his statement) I asked him, “Have you ever dreamed of racing them or raising a race horse?” He seemed irritated at my whimsical question as if only the chosen could raise such a thoroughbred, “Oh hell no – Shit no, Shit no! Those things - - That would cost over a million dollars… Seriously? WTF…” He then walked off and I could only grin at the thought of how much pride, excitement and honor has been placed on these race horses and track over the years.
“The racehorse, by virtue of his awesome physical gifts, freed the jockey from himself. When a horse and a jockey flew over the track together, there were moments in which the man's mind wedded itself to the animal's body to form something greater than the sum of both parts.” ― Laura Hillenbrand, Seabiscuit: An American Legend
Race horses are bred for one thing… to run.
If you have ever been to the races, have you taken the time to watch the muscular horses make their way to and from their stalls? They fight their handler all the way in. They show their teeth, they pull away, they strut the opposite direction, and they sometimes rare back onto their hind feet.
The Thoroughbred race horse resembles its historic Arabian descendants. It is a horse that is stout and quick to jump, run or escape the rider in some cases.
The American Quarter horse is a popular breed in races as well. The smaller, muscular horses have sometimes been clocked at speeds of 55 miles per hour. The life expectancy is usually around 27 to 30-years of both Quarter horses and Thoroughbred’s, assuming no serious injuries end that life early.
When I think of race horses, I think of that old school jazz infused big band style of music. I think of Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Betty Grable.
“Gal is like a racehorse, I play her to win
But if I should lose her, another may come in
Love can be like heaven, love can be a joke
But it's worth a gamble so, hey, I go for broke”
- Dean Martin, “Who’s Got the Action”
Murfreesboro, Tennessee hosted a lunch stop on the 2017 Hemmings Motor News Great Race presented by Hagerty. The cars stopped in Murfreesboro on Monday, June 26, 2017 at 12 noon. The stop was at the Cannonsburgh Village.
The Great Race, the world's premiere old car rally, brought 120 of the world's finest antique automobiles to Murfreesboro for the $150,000 event. The Stones River Region of AACA hosted the event.
In all, the participants in the race will cover more than 2,100 miles in 9 days. The start was on Main Street in downtown Jacksonville, Fla., on June 24. The race will finish July 2 in Traverse City, Mich., on the banks of Grand Traverse Bay just off Lake Michigan as part of that city's annual Cherry Festival.
Teams and cars from Japan, England, Germany, Canada and every corner of the United States will be participating in their vintage automobiles dating back as far as 1916.
"There are more than 450 people just in our entourage from all around the world taking part in this incredible adventure," director Jeff Stumb said.
Along the route, competitors will travel parts of the original Dixie Highway in seven states - Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio and Michigan.
The Great Race, which began 34 years ago, is not a speed race, but a time/speed/distance rally. The vehicles, each with a driver and navigator, are given precise instructions each day that detail every move down to the second. They are scored at secret check points along the way and are penalized one second for each second either early or late. As in golf, the lowest score wins.
Joe moved to Nashville for work with his wife. They once lived in Murray, Kentucky. After the loss of a job and the break-up of his marriage, Joe is homeless.
“People think we make tons of money out here holding a sign, that’s not true – we don’t,” he told me. “I gotta go to the bathroom, but they won’t let me use their bathroom because I’m homeless,” Joe said while pointing at McDonalds.
While he may not be a paying customer of the Nolensville Pike restaurant, customers buy him meals from time to time. When I met him, he had just finished eating a Big Mac that a customer bought for him. He was telling me how good it was.
I highlighted this man in a March 2016 photo. When looking back, I forgot what his photo looked like in color. So, I grabbed a color version of one that I took and quickly noticed the sadness in his face seemed to intensify with color.
He told me that he was placed into the foster care system at age 6. A woman in Indiana later adopted him.
“My mom (talking about his adopted mother), was like Aunt Bee on the Andy Griffith Show,” he said with a smile.
As he continued to describe his adopted parents he said to me, “My dad (adopted father) was an Evangelist.” I could tell he was proud of the parents who raised him in life, but he was struggling.
A string of bad choices mixed with a little bad luck landed him on the streets. Today he is 48-years old.
The conversation took a downturn, “I buried my best friend yesterday,” he said while looking down. When I asked who died he said, “My mom.”
“Tears are words that need to be written.” ― Paulo Coelho, Novelist
He was once a respiratory care nurse and said that he grew up during the hippie generation, but he was never a hippie. “I was into cars,” he told me, “I had a Mustang once, but my favorite was my Super Sport Camaro.”
As we talked he said that he is currently living in a motel. He is from Kentucky, but is stuck in Indiana after his daughters car broke down. “I don’t have enough money to get back, so I am staying here until I do,” he said. “My social security check should be here in a few days, once I get it I will head back to Kentucky,” he reassured me.
As I was about to walk away, the 61 year old stopped me. “Have you found yourself yet,” he asked with much curiosity. Confused I responded, “Have I found myself?” He looked at me and said, “Yea, I mean you – your purpose – you?” I paused, “I uh, I don’t know – I guess - - Have you?” He looked at me with curiosity, scrunched his nose and said, “I have not found myself yet, my purpose. I will let you know if I do.”
Tim Tebow stated, “Regardless of whatever I do, I know what my purpose is: to make a difference in people's lives.”
Prior to World War II, a large military base formed in Union County Kentucky. The United States Government came in and gave farmers below what would be considered fair market value at the time for their land. The flat acreage where you could see as far as 16-miles proved to be the perfect training grounds troops to learn war weaponry of guns and tanks. The rural area is a little over an hour away from Clarksville near the Indiana state line.
Camp Breckinridge in Union County was the headquarters of the 506th Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division in the 1930’s and 1940’s.
As World War II broke out in 1937, the U.S. Army quickly realized they needed a place to house German Prisoners of War. The base in Union County became the official P.O.W. prison camp housing 3,000 Germans.
The base population stood at about 45 thousand residents prior and during WWII and later the Korean War. The large base was also home to basic training for new Army recruits in the 30’s and 40’s.
Today, the population in Union County, Kentucky is about 15,000 residents. Of course, that is a drastic drop compared to the 45,000 military residents and 3,000 inmates that called Union County home between 1930 and 1950.
Most of the old World War II era barracks that were left standing were sold to investors in the 1970’s as the land was divided, but the majority of the military classrooms, prison walls, prison cells, cafeteria’s and stores on the massive base were torn down when the government shut the base down. Investors later hired contractors to perform low cost renovations on the interior of the 1930 era barracks dividing them into duplexes so that they could be rented out to residents of low income brackets.
As we drove through what was once the base, every 50 to 100 feet you could see large smoke stacks protruding through heavily dense wooded areas that were to my right and left. I then stopped the truck and walked into the woods to further examine the stack's. I could still see the concrete foundations to old military buildings that probably went for miles. There were 50 or more stacks on the land in the area near the old barracks.
A railroad once ran between the military base and the Ohio River, which was only about 7 miles away. Supplies were shipped to the base on barges and by rail.
On the banks of the river, we found a massive chain that may have once been used to tie off the barges while they unloaded. The large chain was about six inches in diameter.
As you look at these photos, imagine it a base that was once alive and vibrant.
She was quietly sitting on the curb of an empty parking lot when I approached her and quietly sat Indian style directly in front of her. As I sat down she took another drag off her cigarette and quickly dropped it to the side when she noticed my camera. “I don’t want them to see me smoking,” she said. I did not ask who “them” were and responded, “Okay.” Read more below:
Read More“I’m 42 and from South Carolina,” he told me. I met him on the streets of Louisville, Kentucky this past Sunday. I asked if he had any family and he told me that he does, but had not seen his parents in over 10-years. “Are you working right now,” I asked with curiosity? “Naaah, just trying to hustle, how much is that picture worth,” he asked? I laughed and said, “You don’t have to pay me.”
As the conversation continued, I quickly realized that he greatly misses his parents. Again, he has not seen them in over 10-years.
He then talked about attending high school in South Carolina where he grew up in the small county of Greenwood. The population today is barely over 23,000 residents with only 0.19% being African American. In the 1990’s when he attended high school, the population stood at 20,000.
The New York Times reported in 2011 that the county of Greenwood experienced the highest economic decline in the United States. One reason, the deindustrialization of the textile mills that once held the county together.
I asked, “Are you homeless today?” He told me that he lives with friends.
His story is deeper than most that I have encountered. Please note that I never question the validity of the stories I am told… I only repeat them for others to read. That being said, this is what he told me: READ MORE BELOW
Read MoreI was in the depths of Louisville, Kentucky when I noticed a man I later came to know as John barely making his way across a busy intersection. His shoes were falling off of his feet and held together with black electrical tape. He had a cane in his left hand bracing every step. He slowly made his way in front of my truck, the top of his head barely reaching the height of the hood with his shoulder and back slumping forward. He looked worn. He appeared to have gone unbathed for quite some time, possibly a month or longer as his hair and pony tail were badly matted. Men whom I would describe as hipsters with their jeans tightly rolled and clinging to their calves passed him by not even glancing at him. Women steered clear of him, I would guess in fear brushing up against his unclean clothing. READ MORE BELOW
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I recently took a trip to Owsley County, Kentucky. The county is one of the poorest counties in the entire nation. For the entire story with sound files and interviews, click here.
Read MoreI had an amazing, eye-opening, interesting and somewhat sad trip to Owsley, County KY.
Read MoreI had an amazing, eye-opening, interesting and somewhat sad trip to Owsley, County KY. The poverty rate in the county is the HIGHEST in the United States. I headed up there with a friend and we randomly knocked on doors of trailers, buses, and homes and handed out food to those in dire need. We also gave a box of student bibles to a local woman in Boonseville, KY who runs a Christian outreach center. She told us that meth is a major battle for them.
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