Some people collect quilts. Others amass coins, stamps, tree ornaments, nutcrackers, fine wine, recipes, bracelet charms or seashells.
I collect anecdotes. Think of them as mini-stories that I pick up in conversation with friends or snippets of talk overheard in a diner.
When I hear or experience a story that makes a point I find interesting, I might tuck the anecdote into the Notes app on my laptop or write it in a journal. And my Yahoo account is packed with emails I’ve sent to myself so I won’t lose a brief narrative that might come in handy some day. You never know.
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A visitor to my office this week shared some stories about what it’s like to be a newbie in Hopkinsville, especially one who is also new to the South.
Kelly Barnes and her husband moved from California to Hopkinsville a few years ago to be closer to family. They are still adjusting to a slower pace, and to the way strangers strike up conversations and persistently offer help. In California, strangers didn’t reach out so easily, Kelly told me, in part because there was an urgency to the days. Everyone had to get to the next place, meeting or task.
Kelly had stopped by my office to pick up some Hoptown Chronicle swag we were donating to the Hopkinsville-Christian County Newcomers and Neighbors for the group’s open house, and she shared a particular story that I had to save.
One day Kelly and her husband went to the Hopkinsville Lowe’s store to buy a grill for their new home. As they worked to lift the grill into their truck bed, three people passing by them stopped to asked if they needed help. Each time they said, “No. But thanks. We’ve got it.”
Then a fourth person approached. He didn’t bother to ask. He lifted one end — and just like that the grill was up in the truck.
When Kelly told me that story, I realized that I’ve heard different versions of this Hopkinsville anecdote more times than I can count. Often the storyteller has a fresh view of the town.
Months ago, Jim Creighton, who owns Heirloom Table Home downtown and serves on Hoptown Chronicle’s board, shared a memory of Hopkinsville, and I asked him to write it down for me.
Here is Jim’s story:
“Shortly after we moved to Hopkinsville from Orlando in 1984, it began to snow and didn’t let up as the accumulation built. I needed to drive to Fort Campbell every day, and was having trouble staying on the road.
“I told my wife that we ought to buy some tire chains, something I’d never needed growing up in Arizona, so I headed over to an auto parts store on North Drive.
“They had the size I needed. The owner told me they were $22, including tax. I had a $20 bill and a credit card in my wallet.
“They were not set up to accept cards and the owner didn’t want a partial payment. He told me to just go home and come back with a check, commenting, “You need them on your vehicle now!
“Having lived in several major cities, was I ever surprised!”
The anecdotes I collected from Kelly and Jim fall into a certain category. It’s the one where I remember, “Listen to the newcomers. Often they have a more authentic view of the community than those of us who have been around for a long, long time.”
Do you have stories that describe how you’ve experienced the kind side of Hopkinsville? If you do and you have an anecdote that you’d like to share, send me an email.
Jennifer P. Brown is co-founder, publisher and editor of Hoptown Chronicle. You can reach her at editor@hoptownchronicle.org. Brown was a reporter and editor at the Kentucky New Era, where she worked for 30 years. She is a co-chair of the national advisory board to the Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues, governing board past president for the Kentucky Historical Society, and co-founder of the Kentucky Open Government Coalition. She serves on the Hopkinsville History Foundation's board.
