Georgia Green Stamper – Georgia On Her Mind

  • Georgia: On my mind - Ice cream should be classified as addictive

    I had just finished tossing my bath salts into the trash, and swept the medicine cabinet clear of cold meds, when news of ice cream’s walk on the wild side popped up on my computer.  At first I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Surely, words like addiction, poison, and sin tax didn’t belong in the same sentence with a double scoop of butter pecan.

  • Today’s villain was once a holiday hero

    For a 100 years, maybe 200, my Owen County family relied on growing tobacco for their economic health. Of course, they did not know how unhealthy smoking was for their bodies, but even understanding that as I do now, I am stunned that within a handful of years, six bent barns have come to stand empty.  Fertile fields lie fallow. And the mammoth tobacco auction warehouses that once dominated towns like Carrollton, Cynthiana, and Lexington have become, like dinosaurs, extinct overnight.

  • R.I.P. - Thanksgiving

    News Bulletin  - Unidentified sources report that Thanksgiving, an apparent target in the worldwide economic war, was killed in a hit and run incident on Main Street, USA, on or about Nov. 1.

  • Helpful hand had a hankering for hominy

    I hadn’t thought about hominy in years, much less eaten it, until last week when I was wandering in the Mega-Mart.
    I stopped in my tracks when I spotted it hanging out on a bottom shelf near the back of the store. I felt like I’d bumped into an old friend, and so I picked up a can to say hello.

  • Family treated ‘the help’ with kindness and respect

    His name popped up in my e-mail with uncanny timing. I was deep into planning the 80th reunion of The Rev. Silas A. Hudson’s descendants, and a few days earlier, I’d been to see “The Help,” a movie about racial prejudice encountered by black domestic workers circa 1963 Mississippi.  You see, Leon R. Harris (1886-1960) was a black writer who spent most of his childhood living in my white great-great-grandfather’s Kentucky home.  

  • Johnny may still be there with berries and chiggers

    I used to think that grass chiggers stalked everyone’s childhood, but to my amazement, I’ve run into people from other parts of the country who don’t know about them. By rights, the chigger should be our official state insect — if we must have one. After all, the epicenter of the parasite’s international breeding grounds lies in Kentucky, possibly on our Owen County farm. But no, Kentucky bestows that dubious honor to the Viceroy butterfly, an elegant bug, I admit, but why should personality and good looks dominate every election?

  • At the intersection of life and death

    The summer I was 10, “Death” showed up uninvited at our front door and refused to leave. It wasn’t that I had not been introduced to him before. Growing up on a farm, I learned what buzzards circling in the sky meant almost before I could talk. Something was always dying, a groundhog or wild rabbit, or a ewe leaving an orphaned lamb for me to raise as a pet on a bottle. And per custom of the time and place, I tagged along with my parents wherever they went, attending more funerals in my first decade than most people do in a lifetime.

  • Georgia on her mind: Fortunately, I didn’t raise any sociopaths

    After reading a parenting expert’s column in the newspaper that makes it sound so easy, followed by phone calls from my daughters who make it sound so hard, I realized, in retrospect, that I was a mess of a mother. I plucked tacky plastic Halloween costumes off the rack at Kmart for my children. Fed them un-organic anything. Dressed them in environmentally destructive polyester because it didn’t need ironing – well, it’s a miracle my kids didn’t turn out to be sociopaths.

  • Reliving a cold and rainy 1988 Breeder's Cup

    The Breeder’s Cup gallops into Lexington next weekend for the first time in history. Since it’s about the biggest do in horse racing, our town is putting on its company best. From abundant flowers to stunning street murals, to charming sidewalk cafés and gourmet food trucks, we’re looking good. We’ve even gilded the lily, and made  Keeneland – already one of the prettiest places in America – more lovely and accommodating.  

  • The 'badder' get left behind

    If Christians were raptured up to Heaven last Saturday as that fellow in California predicted, I didn’t know anybody good enough to make the cut.  Since I hang out with a lot of church-going folk most every Sunday, that’s a disconcerting thought.