We were back in my old Kentucky home last week, visiting friends and relatives and trying to keep our minds off the election.
It worked! Election Day is upon us. But we’ve still got some time to kill, waiting for tomorrow’s voting and then all the ballots to be counted.
So, let’s get back to Kentucky.
Going to Louisville always gets me thinking about the friends and relatives I have — and had — there. I was lucky to have had six sets of uncles and aunts, four on my father’s side and two on my mother’s. All those aunts and uncles are now dead, except one, Nanette (Fitzpatrick) Eckert, who is 90 and living in Needham, MA, outside Boston. Fortunately, I still have several cousins in Louisville and the surrounding area, and I always visit at least some of them when I go back.
Probably the most colorful of my aunts and uncles was Uncle Joe Fitzpatrick, who was an art professor and professional artist and, like most of the Fitzpatricks, someone who knew his way around the King’s English.
Uncle Joe was a bit eccentric, as artists tend to be. For example, one night many years ago, he called my father (his brother), Robert Fitzpatrick, telling him he intended to buy an island off the coast of Nova Scotia. He asked my Dad if he wanted in on the deal.
He told Dad that if he wanted in, he’d have to come up with the money the next day.
Well, my father, an accounting professor who had previously worked as a CPA, was hardly the impulsive sort financially, and he passed on that opportunity.
Uncle Joe proceeded, with one or more partners, to buy that island. He and my Aunt Ruth and their three children — none of whom now lives in Kentucky — spent several weeks a year there. They had a small motorboat that would carry them back and forth from the island to the mainland.
When Uncle Joe and Aunt Ruth got older, they sold the island and bought a former bank building on the mainland and lived on the second floor.
Toward the end of their lives they hatched a plan to live four months a year in Louisville, four in Nova Scotia and four in Barcelona — where one of their daughters lives.
It was a wild, wacky plan, which, not surprisingly, never came to fruition. Uncle Joe ended up in a Louisville independent living facility, where he died at age 89 in 2015. Aunt Ruth ended up in a nursing home, where she died two years later.
Like I said, Uncle Joe wrote for fun. The funniest and most creative thing he wrote, as far as I know, was “A Visitors Guide to Kentucky Multiple Usage Speech.”
Did you know some people in Kentucky talk a little differently, with a bit of a dra-a-a-w-l?
Below are 10 words or sounds from Uncle Joe’s guide to understanding some Kentuckians. In the first column is a word or sound that might come out of a Kentuckian’s mouth; in the second is the conventional meaning; and in the third is what the speaker intended to communicate.
**
Poplar…..Large tree……………Well regarded
Dade…….County in Florida…..Lifeless
R………….Our……………………..Time of day
Awl……….Everyone…………….Lubricant
Tar……….Used on roads……..Pneumatic liner for wheels
Pitcher….Liquid container……2D image usually hung on walls
Rat……….Large rodent………..Right, as in ra’t now
Far………..Distant………………..Fire
War……….Lethal conflict……..Plural past tense of “was”
Holler…….Shout………………….Deep dip in terrain
**
And here’s a picture of that professor, artist and wit, whom I dearly miss — Joe Fitzpatrick
JimmyCsays: At the juncture of journalism and daily life in KC 
Brilliant. Heard them all.
Thanks, Tom…The “kinfolk” will appreciate your comment.
My dad’s family all moved from Arkansas to St. Louis after the Korean War. Over the years, it got to be a sort of unofficial tradition for the extended family to meet at my aunt’s house on Christmas night for ham sandwiches, potato chips, cake etc. The grands and the parents claimed spots at the kitchen table, and the kids just sort of loaded up a paper plate and planted ourselves somewhere in the living room.
Decades later, we don’t do that anymore. The grands and the parents are gone, and the younger generations are scattered across the country. It’s just was well. As I tell my cousins, if we were to have a gathering today, we’d all be sitting at the old folks’ table, trying to one-up each other as to whose arthritis was the worst, arguing about whether Franklin Graham or Joel Osteen was Antichrist, and nagging at my brother for smoking.
And, of course, gossiping about whoever didn’t show up.
If you’re lucky enough to grow up in a loving, well-functioning family, those childhood memories are precious and soothing. I cling to mine, too, Les.
Long ago, my boss at the Springfield, Mo., Daily News and Leader & Press, Dale Freeman, was the author of a vocabulary booklet called “How to Talk Pure Ozark in One Easy Lesson.” An example: “forced” for “forest.” My favorite entry uses that word, along with “far tar (fire tower)” Used in a sentence: “The ranger climbs a big tar to look for forced fars.”
Now there’s a sentence that would make a Kentuckian proud. (Outstanding.)
Looks like a strong, ruddy Irishman!
If I were younger I would definitely pursue a study of regional accents — how they developed, why they differ, etc. I find it fascinating.
That he was, Gayle — strong and ruddy. He could tackle about any repair project and some renovations. I don’t know where he got that skill because not many of the other family members, including me, have it.
Agree with all the above. But going to KENTUCKY? For election respite? We’re watching how the Senate race turns out.
Classic newspaper’n. (Vaughn, Royko, and Breslin approve…let’s have a beer, kid.)
Thank you for sharing, Jim, And “thank you,” all you Clem Kadiddlehoppers of Kentucky for sending Mitch McConnell back to Washington. What a disaster he is for America!!!