On the Road with Barry: Olive Hill, Kentucky and Van Lear, Kentucky

Day 1

OK. Good news first: The baseball gods have smiled on me again. After I scheduled my flight to Cincinnati, I checked the Reds’ home schedule. Guess what? They have a home stand on the weekend I fly in. AND guess who they’re playing? My Cubs! I’m so excited about the possibility of getting to visit stadium #19 AND seeing my Cubs!

Now, the bad news: I’m flying the other airline. It is a direct flight, and I’m not checking a bag. The flight is scheduled to get in at 11 a.m., and the game doesn’t start until 1:40. All seems well IF the other airline just departs and arrives on time. That’s all I’m asking. I don’t need early. I’ll take it, but I don’t need it.

Long story short, the other airline came through for me. I got to the stadium in time to find a chili dog, and to watch the grounds crew prepare the field. Bill Stafford and all my uncles would have approved. Great American Ballpark sits right on the banks of the Ohio River. I had a real nice view of it from up high in the cheap seats. But the cheap seats were also in the shade during a very warm, humid day. Not Texas hot and humid, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable. But, my Cubs beat the Reds and I have a short drive to Ashland, Kentucky, also on the banks of the Ohio. I got there in time to buy some groceries and go to bed.

Day 2

I’m in Kentucky to see Christina, who lives over in Olive Hill, about a 25-minute drive back west. I’m as close as I can get in a hotel that didn’t give me the heebie-jeebies. Not great to start out the day driving that far, but it’s what I got. I got to work with Christina about two years ago, and her dad drove her over to Morehead. So, this time I’m driving to them. Olive Hill is a town of right around 1,500 souls that I honestly didn’t think was big enough for us to get any work done. However, I was wrong. I use Google Earth a lot to preview the areas in which I’m gonna work, and the Google told me that Olive Hill has promise.

I met Christina at the old Depot that the town has turned into a combination welcome center and Tom T. Hall museum. The country music legend was born on Tick Ridge, just south of Olive Hill, and is the town’s most famous resident. And just last week, the Depot parking lot was also home to ground zero for the Mr. Bigfoot festival. Last year, they had around 3,500 in attendance, but last Saturday, they had over 8,000 people show up. Quite a deal for a town of 1,500! Christina wasn’t sure Olive Hill could give us enough to work with, mobility-wise, either, but she was pleasantly surprised too. We crossed streets all day, until we didn’t feel like crossing any more, and quit for the day.

My culinary maven, Kate, has a whole lineup of dining suggestions for me, and I hit one tonight back over in Ashland. Mi Casita is a little hole-in-the-wall kinda place, but that’s usually the best kinda place. It was delicious. Maven Kate is 1-for-1 so far.

Day 3

I met Christina at the Depot again this morning and we went right to work. We worked mostly on the same kind of stuff we did yesterday, but street crossings, straight-line travel, and general orientation never really go out of style.

Another really important thing we’re doing is helping the folks of Olive Hill understand how to deal with a pedestrian who’s visually impaired. We’ve had a lot of folks pull way up over the crosswalk, not realizing what they were doing until they’d already done it. Most of them, at the very least, mouthed the word “Sorry” through the window. We got the occasional driver who looked through us and pretended not to see us so they wouldn’t feel guilty for being too far up. You can’t do anything about those folks, so I throw my hands up and act offended, really playing it up so that other folks watching maybe will do differently when they are tested.

Christina has pretty good sound-localization skills, so she was pretty aware of where the cars were parked on the street, too, so she understood what was happening most of the time. I narrated everything, so she would understand what to do in the future if she encounters an idling car during a crossing. In case you were wondering, the best thing to do when you encounter an operating vehicle during a street crossing is to go toward the parallel street around the car, making sure the driver is looking at you. You almost never want to go behind an operating vehicle because of the danger of putting yourself between two operating vehicles. Double whammy that way. Go toward the parallel street, find the front bumper and take direction off of that, then continue your crossing. Sounds easy, but it takes a little practice and a lot of nerves.

When we were done for the day, Christina called her dad to come pick her up. Unbeknownst to us, Grandad came to get her without being told what vehicle I was driving. We also didn’t know to look for Grandad’s vehicle. After Grandad couldn’t find us, he called his daughter, who called Christina. Meanwhile, Grandad called his grandson to help look for us. Turns out that Christina’s brother is the chief of police in Olive Hill, and soon the police cruisers were cruising by our vehicle. I rolled the window down and threw out my hands and told them, “I surrender.” I think they thought it was funny. I hope they did.

That all figured out, Christina went home with Grandad and I talked with her brother, Bruce, for a minute. Turns out Bruce does some 3-D printing on the side, and the Mr. Bigfoot festival folks have asked him to 3-D print a life-sized Bigfoot for next year’s festival. Life-sized is a shot in the dark, because no one knows for sure just how tall Bigfoot is. There’s about as many opinions on that matter as there are people, so Bruce is gonna make one between 7.5 and 8 feet tall. He also said he’d have to put a fiberglass outer shell on it to make it heavy enough so that folks won’t steal it. Which they would. Anyway, if you go to next year’s Mr. Bigfoot festival, you’ll see Bruce’s rendition of Bigfoot ensconced somewhere around the Depot area. Let me know how it looks!

Bruce also tells me that there in Carter County, there have been 12 confirmed Bigfoot sightings already this year, so if you’re out that way, have your camera ready.

Another part of this story is having the police called on me. Again. I can’t begin to tell you how often the police have been called to investigate what I’m doing in their community. To the untrained eye, what I’m doing could look a little suspect: a guy following a blind person around, not really helping them. Ha! This is the first time, I think, that I’ve spoken to a chief of police about it.

I went into the Welcome Center/Tom T. Hall museum for some clean restroom facilities, and the docent there asked me to sign the guest book. She asked what I was doing here in town, and when I told her, she remarked that the police were looking for me! Ha! I know. I know.

I came out of the restroom only to meet the mayor’s wife, who introduced herself to me. She also asked me why I was in town and was quickly told that the police were looking for me. Yes. I know. Thank you. I’m sure the whole town knows by now.

The mayor’s wife also told me that if I was in Olive Hill, I really needed to visit Carter Caves, just north of town. Her sister-in-law (I think) runs the place, and I’m to tell her that she sent me over. The mayor’s wife is also Tom T. Hall’s great-niece, or something like that.

“We’re all related around here,” she says as she headed out the door.

I went to the caves and they were impressive. Also very impressive is that I met a fellow O&M there. Her boyfriend remarked that he thought O&Ms were rare, but here stood two, on the same cave tour, on a random Tuesday. Well, boyfriend, (I regrettably cannot remember his name, nor the mayor’s wife’s. Sorry, guys.) it IS rare for two O&Ms to meet out in the wild. About as rare as two Bigfoots. Bigfeet? What’s the plural of Bigfoot? Anyway, rare.

Day 4

It’s gonna rain today. It’s been threatening since I got here, but it’s gonna happen today. Christina and I get as much done as we can before we get soaked. We got caught out in it, but it let up just enough for us to make it back to the Depot. Just as we got inside the rental, a HUGE crack of thunder occurred, telling us that we’d made the right decision. It’s always a crapshoot to call a lesson because of weather. If you call it, the weather doesn’t happen. If you don’t call it and keep going, you get soaked. It’s just the way it is. Looks like we decided correctly this time.

I’m off to another small town in Kentucky to see another client. Samanthia, or Sam, lives in Van Lear, but we’ll be training in Prestonsburg, where she works. I take a scenic way over to my hotel in Paintsville, where my culinary maven has suggested an Amish sandwich shop. It’s too late to try it by the time I got here tonight, so I’m gonna eat some groceries and watch football. Football’s on almost every night of the week now, and with baseball still going, it’s the most wonderful time of the year!

Day 5

On my drive to Van Lear to pick up Sam, I pass a sign directing me to Butcher Holler. Classic country music fans will recognize this as the childhood home of Loretta Lynn. This area was industrialized in the early part of the last century due to the coal in the hills. For those of you who don’t know who Loretta is, shame on you.

The drive to Sam’s house is like being on a roller coaster, and I sure hope Sam doesn’t have any intentions of traveling around this area. The road was as crooked as a politician, and curvy to boot. No good sight lines anywhere.

Sam lives at home with her mother, who was keeping one of her great-grandchildren. She apologized for how the house looked, but I loved it. I’d give just about anything to have mine that little again and have to deal with those “problems.” Sam and I got to know each other a little bit, then we headed out to Prestonsburg, where she works. KATS is the Kentucky Assistive Technology Network, and Sam is the Coordinating Center Director.

Prestonsburg is a little bigger than Olive Hill and has a lot of travel opportunities for Sam. She self-reports that she hasn’t been getting out as much as she should have been, but her cane skills are still very good. She got some Orientation & Mobility (O&M) when she was younger from a fellow named William Penrod. Bill is part of a group of instructors who learned from the originators of our profession. Living history. No joke.

He and my college professors, Bob Bryant and Bill Bryan, were second-generation O&M folks, which makes me third generation. Very proud to be so.

Anyway, Bill taught Sam, and his classical training style is still obvious. Mind you, my O&M ancestors perfected their techniques on soldiers who had perfect posture, obeyed orders, and already knew how to march. We (yes, we) tried for years to get the general public to act like those first student soldiers and learned, finally, that they weren’t soldiers and weren’t gonna be. We’ve adapted our techniques over and over again and are at a point of understanding that every individual is just that: an individual. What works for one may not work for the next client. OK, that’s enough. I can preach on that all day.

Sam’s good skills will be needed on Lake Street in Prestonsburg. Not bad sidewalks at all, but there’s a lot of (evil, evil) parking lots and driveways to deal with. Luckily, Lake Street is busy, and traffic is our friend.

Kate, my culinary maven, steered me right. Again. A Taste of Amish in Paintsville, Kentucky, is at the very back of a long strip mall and would be easily missed if you weren’t looking for it. It was nothing fancy (I know. Shocking that the Amish place wasn’t fancy, right?), but I had a really good BLT on homemade bread, and a jar of bread-and-butter pickles that took me back to Mom and/or Grammie’s kitchen. Very well done.

Day 6

Sam’s a big Kentucky Wildcat fan, and when I tell her that I’m a Razorback fan, she quickly tells me that I can have Coach Calipari and the horse he rode in on. (For you non-sportsing people, Calipari is the former coach at Kentucky who wore out his welcome in Lexington a couple of years back. He took the open position at Arkansas soon after leaving Kentucky.)

I told her that I understand the feeling. My Uncle Terry, quite possibly the biggest Wildcat of all, told me about his cousin Bobby, who got the contract to refurbish Coach Rick Pitino’s office at the University of Louisville. Coach Pitino left Kentucky for the NBA, then returned to the college ranks with Louisville.

To understand the level of rivalry between UK and UL, think Hatfields vs. McCoys, Cubs vs. Cardinals, or Godzilla vs. Rodan. That might scratch the surface of the feelings here.

Anyway, Cousin Bobby got the contract to do Pitino’s office and, when done, was offered (along with the paycheck) a gift bag of Louisville swag. Think T-shirts, sweatshirts, basketball shoes, etc. Cousin Bobby, being a Kentucky fan, told Coach P in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested in any of that Louisville crap. I’m pretty sure Cousin Bobby didn’t say “crap” either.

Upon hearing this story, Sam remarked, “Oh! Cousin Bobby is my kind of people!”

Sam and I started from her office again today. It’s a nice, central spot, it has clean restrooms, and it’s where she works and will, most likely, be the jump-off spot for the majority of her routes. We worked on a route downtown to her bank, then to her hair salon. Both of which she can do with little problem. Also, two more routes she can do on her own and have her mom pick her up afterwards. Not the to AND from like what’s happening now.

This is huge for anyone wanting to get their independence back. Losing, or never having, the ability to drive is a big deal. Drivers, think about the freedom you have to just jump in the car and go get a milkshake when you feel like one. Someone who doesn’t drive has to make a plan, call someone, pay someone, or wait for someone else to help them out.

Sam now has two more places she can go without asking anyone for assistance.

After work, we stopped at the Dairy Cheer for a smash burger and a Florida Breeze, which is some concoction made with rainbows and unicorns. It was like a Dreamsicle, adjacent to an Orange Julius. The server recommended making it without ice cream and extra orange sherbet. Sold! She even fried my fries a little longer. If I’m gonna eat grease, I want it all. Fries should be crispy. I will entertain no arguments to the contrary. It was lovely. Culinary maven Kate can take the night off.

Day 7

Checking out of another hotel. Working with two folks in one week in two different cities is the right thing to do, as long as they are close enough to do so, and both just need three days. I have to thank Christina and Sam for being as flexible as they were to make this work. However, checking out of my third hotel this week is a hassle, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

One reason I like five-day trainings is that I don’t have to move so much. There’s pros and cons both ways, but this is what I got this week. Geography and clients make it so. I’ll continue to do more of these if they line up like this.

Today, Sam and I went to the local grocery store, mainly because there’s a Starbucks inside the Food City. There isn’t a Starbucks anywhere near Butcher Holler, so it’s kind of a big deal. It’s a long walk, but the weather is beautiful, and it’s great practice.

We have to deal with an evil, evil parking lot, but found a shorter route across it. Literally, the lesser of two evils. We went from there to the place Sam gets her nails done. It’s in a shopping center across from Food City and (don’t tell anyone) we jaywalked to get there.

Because of the way the street is set up, there are no crosswalks or traffic controls for over half a mile. Sam is gonna advocate for herself to get something done about that because if she wanted to legally and safely get her nails done and go grocery shopping in the same trip, she’d have to walk a mile at least to get to a marked crosswalk. Hence the jaywalking, just to maximize our training time.

The walk back is not straight, flat, or level, but neither is the rest of the world, right? It’s gonna take some more practice, but she’s gonna be able to do it.

A large crowd at the Dairy Freeze kept me from getting a Florida Breeze for the road. I was gonna get lime sherbet this time, but it’ll have to wait for next time. Maybe I’ll be back for the Mr. Bigfoot festival next fall and I’ll get one then.

 

Written by Barry Stafford, certified orientation and mobility (O&M) field representative.