I just got back from the land of horses and bourbon, and motorcycles and fireworks.
That would be Kentucky.
It was my first visit to see my younger son, who moved to Lexington after graduating from the University of Central Arkansas in May. Just like Matt Damon’s character in Good Will Hunting, my son had to go see about a girl.
I understood, and I really wanted him to spread his wings, but it wasn’t easy.
He’s my younger son — the one who hasn’t been away from home. He went places on weekends, but he never was gone for more than two or three days. He’s my sharer — sometimes too much information — the one who just happened to wander over to our house at dinnertime when he lived on his own.
He left the second week in May, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
I’ve been with him on his Fourth of July birthday every year for 22 years, so this year we made it 23.
My husband also has a niece who has lived there a short time, and she has an adorable 1-year-old baby, so that was another good reason to go.
Our hotel was right downtown, which, unbeknownst to us when we booked it, was smack-dab in the middle of the Fourth of July festival and parade.
We got to town late, and my son and his girlfriend met us at the hotel for a really late supper. The hour-later time difference was a tough adjustment. We were still bright-eyed at 11:30, which was 10:30 back in Arkansas.
Even though we were on the 11th floor, I could hear the roar of motorcycles every night. I thought maybe there was a bikers’ convention, but apparently it’s just a thing. Fireworks seemed to be going off every night somewhere, too, and we could see them from the window of our hotel and reflected in the windows of a skyscraper. My son’s girlfriend said, “They love their fireworks.”
The weather was amazing, sunny and in the low 80s the first full day we were there. After a blast from the past seeing Jaws at the beautiful and historic Kentucky Theatre, we walked to a local restaurant that our son and girlfriend had been wanting to try. Most amazing omelet ever.
We were treated to the girlfriend’s cooking that night — curry and naan, neither of which I’d ever had. Delicious. We also toured an arboretum, which was acres of amazing plants, flowers and sculptures.
Things were pretty perfect until the Fourth of July.
It was drizzly in the morning, but my husband and I ventured out just steps from our hotel to the vendor booths of crafts and food. Our son and his girlfriend planned to meet us.
Just as they were about to make their way downtown, a storm blew through. Tents were being lifted in the air, and people ran under the permanent pavilion where we were already standing. The rain blew under, getting us a little wet, regardless of the shelter. Mothers were holding crying children. Water was cascading off roofs and flooding down the sidewalks and streets.
We happened to be near a family with four kids — a set of adorable twin girls, wearing matching patriotic dresses, and their older sister and baby brother. Nothing like an act of God to bring strangers together.
We made jokes, and the mother played one potato, two potato with the girls, then led them through a couple of verses of “Rain, Rain, Go Away.” When her father tried to spin it to a positive, one of the little girls remarked, “This is a nightmare.”
The adults were standing almost shoulder to shoulder and figured we should make small talk.
I saw a golf logo on the shirt of the kids’ uncle, and I knew how to make a fast friend. I just had to tell him that my husband liked golf, and we were off to the races.
Uncle Nick told my husband about a good course to play in Lexington, which wasn’t in the cards for that trip, and they talked about the PGA tournament that my husband and brother went to last year at Whistling Straits in Wisconsin. Nick is involved in The First Tee of Kentucky, and so is his wife. He talked about how it teaches great lifelong skills and encouraged us to get our nephews and future grandchildren involved.
I showed a picture of my older son and 5-year-old nephew in a golf cart, and my brother in the golf cart that was decorated for his neighborhood’s Fourth of July parade. I stopped short of showing the video of my nephew swinging a golf club.
We also talked about the Arkansas State University Red Wolves and the Razorbacks, as well as the Kentucky Wildcats basketball game my husband saw 30 years ago in Rupp Arena. They also discussed what teams won NCAA basketball championships in the early 1980s. (I do believe 75 percent of men’s brains are taken up with random sports statistics.)
After about an hour, the rain slacked off enough for us to venture out again, and the parade went on.
I might not have planned it that way, but when we think about our trip, we’ll always remember the storm and a chance meeting with fun and friendly Kentuckians.
Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.