So today we finally emerged from Kentucky into the cold light of Illinois, crossing the ferry here at Cave-In-Rock, IL. It's called that because they have a cave. In a rock.
Anyway, when you're a kid, you get to have a really simple view of the world. If somebody asks you about Kentucky, you might just say "that's where people have no teeth and too many dogs." Then, when you get older, you start to understand that stereotypes are bad and mean and that really you should give people a second chance. But, as you progress past that, you arrive at a third truth: stereotypes are stereotypes because they have at least a kernel of truth to them. Life in a place like Portland is often an exercise in denial of stereotypes. It's the hipster way. On base, I think this is a good thing; giving people the chance to be individuals is always better than pre-judging them as a group. But here's the thing: people in Kentucky, by and large, at least on our trip, were in need of a few teeth, and did in fact have too many dogs. This is the cold hard truth about the world, and about adulthood: the reason it's a challenge to avoid being locked into stereotypes is because they are so convenient and an easy way to just understand and summarize things.
So, here's to Kentucky. I didn't like you quite as much as Virginia, but you definitely know how to make amazing fried chicken, and your Western farmlands are gloriously flat. Just please do something about the dogs.
