Chordie gives you the words and the chords, transposes songs into any key and on any string instrument. There's a C-tuning Ukulele feature, so I use that one. The chords were fairly easy, the words are familiar and I love the song, so I began to play it. I didn't even get to the second line before I could no longer see the screen because of the tears that spilled forth. Why? Why should I get so emotional over a song? Well, there are bunches of oats of reasons.
(Photos by Z, by my lambchop sister-assistant, Amy Owens and by my outrageous cocktail rye sized camera :)Firstly, the Kentucky Derby is one day out of the year that I always enjoy, no matter what else is going on in the world.
The weather drips, blows, dries, burns, whips, snows, sleets, hails - yet still the Derby endures. My family always celebrates Derby as a tradition like no other. We sing, we make mint juleps, we put a quarter in the hat and pick out a horse and try to find a reason to like the one fate has delivered through chance. But wait, there's a lot more to Derby day in Kimmyville, Kentucky and of course, I have to tell you all about it. Accordingly. I beg your indulgence while I reminisce and ruminate over the run for the roses (note to NBC's Today show, in particular, Kathy Lee and Hoda, it's not the Running of the Roses - ack - it's the RUN FOR the Roses...get it straight willya?).
It also seems as if no matter how grey the skies may be, the sun always shines bright on my old Kentucky Derby - even if all of nature's elements are insinuating themselves upon us, and our tummies are all tied up in knots in anticipation of something terribly wonderful about to happen, somehow the sun makes its appearance just as the band plays our state's anthem. Gleefully, that's just what happened yesterday as the excitement was like a joyous bubble about to burst upon all of us who made up the Derby contingent.
The weather drips, blows, dries, burns, whips, snows, sleets, hails - yet still the Derby endures. My family always celebrates Derby as a tradition like no other. We sing, we make mint juleps, we put a quarter in the hat and pick out a horse and try to find a reason to like the one fate has delivered through chance. But wait, there's a lot more to Derby day in Kimmyville, Kentucky and of course, I have to tell you all about it. Accordingly. I beg your indulgence while I reminisce and ruminate over the run for the roses (note to NBC's Today show, in particular, Kathy Lee and Hoda, it's not the Running of the Roses - ack - it's the RUN FOR the Roses...get it straight willya?).
It also seems as if no matter how grey the skies may be, the sun always shines bright on my old Kentucky Derby - even if all of nature's elements are insinuating themselves upon us, and our tummies are all tied up in knots in anticipation of something terribly wonderful about to happen, somehow the sun makes its appearance just as the band plays our state's anthem. Gleefully, that's just what happened yesterday as the excitement was like a joyous bubble about to burst upon all of us who made up the Derby contingent.
The Three Mud-sketeers
We left Lexington around 8:30am, Amy Owens, Lisa Osland and I, arriving at Papa John's stadium in Louisville less than two hours later to park and catch our shuttle right on time.
However, there were traffic snags and our poor bus driver didn't really know how to get around the streets that were closed in order to get us to Churchill, so we got out and walked...but we soon arrived at the media center and got our instructions from Z as to which member of her photo crew we were to assist and how we could be of help.
We left Lexington around 8:30am, Amy Owens, Lisa Osland and I, arriving at Papa John's stadium in Louisville less than two hours later to park and catch our shuttle right on time.
However, there were traffic snags and our poor bus driver didn't really know how to get around the streets that were closed in order to get us to Churchill, so we got out and walked...but we soon arrived at the media center and got our instructions from Z as to which member of her photo crew we were to assist and how we could be of help.
But first, we treated ourselves to a little tour of the grounds, before the crowds started swarming in. A walk from the paddock down the tunnel to the track was a little windy, a little wet, but when they opened the door to the room that holds the Garland of Roses, I took the opportunity to take a peek. It's like looking at something magical to see the blanket of long-stemmed roses lying in state, waiting to be draped over the Derby winner, but we still had 10 races before that was to happen. They keep it in a tiny room off to the side - and to tell you the truth, I wouldn't have known it was there if Lisa and I had not seen its 10-foot-long white floral box arrive last year. We knew right where to poke our head in, smile approvingly until the staff winked at us, then walk on along our merry way. (Churchill folk have been doing this for years, and the last thing they want is someone barging in and getting up in their business, although they do enjoy a polite nod of appreciation.)
After our mini-self-guided tour, we went back to the media room, ate, talked to our assigned photographers and figured out what they wanted from us before and after the Derby undercard races were completed. More or less, we happily do whatever they or Z ask us to do, we walk their equipment over to them, take equipment back to the press room, and try to stay out of their way. There's plenty of time to see all there is to see, though, and yesterday was no exception as the splendor of the day unfolded in typical Derby day fashion. Sure, there were the guys wearing speedos and chaps (bless their buns) and girls with Twin Spire tattoos peeping through their backless dresses, and without those sorts of characters, well, it just wouldn't be Derby. The sights were fairly astonishing all day long, though, and the hats! The hats were fabulous. One woman had, I swear, a condominium-sized hat that would so give me whiplash with one head nod, so I have to give her props for wearing it, gaudy and overly-ornate as it was.
So the day progressed, we saw the same press people over and over again, they came from around the globe, all trudging through mud, rain and people to get their photography and journalistic tasks done to bring in as much detail to the world all the moods, the moments, the specter that is the Derby.
I saw friends like Dick Gabriel, Anne Eberhardt-Keogh, and Robin Roth, all busy as bees all day long, and rarely did any of them look up to focus on anything other than the work they are so well known for doing.
I saw friends like Dick Gabriel, Anne Eberhardt-Keogh, and Robin Roth, all busy as bees all day long, and rarely did any of them look up to focus on anything other than the work they are so well known for doing.
Apart from all the regulars, i.e., owners, trainers and jockeys, the stars were a-plenty, including University of Kentucky basketball superstar John Wall, who caused quite a stir from fans buzzing about seeing him as if he were, well, John Wall...heh. There were rumors that Kate Goslin was in da house...to which my crew of chums all said, "meh." I saw Rascal Flatts - don't know their names, sorry, but I was close enough to sing harmony with them as they did their rousing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner - and Bo Derek (yes, she is still beautiful) and oh oh oh - the guy from the Weather Channel who they always send to the worst-weathered spots, John Cantore. 
The key to surviving a 12-hour day of sloshing through mud, carrying ladders through crowds of people oblivious that they, too, could be seeing stars if they didn't watch where they were going, and getting your tasks accomplished without getting kicked by a horse -- the key to all of that is a good dose of stamina combined with hot-brown-sized helping of good ol' fashioned manners. For example, you have to know how to tell the girl who claims to be a witch from New Orleans that you sympathize with the oil-spill
wetlands disaster but that no,
you're not going to say "witch's honor" and pray to the Lord at the same time. Yes, that actually happened to Z and I just as we were sneakin' a smoke between the Derby race and the press conference that immediately followed. Her name was Kelly Kendrick, and she was a nice enough lady, but she kept saying "brah" and "mon" and then that whole witch's thing...which I normally wouldn't mind, but she also begged with much fervor and quite loudly how she wanted us to 'do just one thing. Please. Please. I beg of you, will you please just do one thing? Would you please pray for us?' and then she totally broke down...thus making US weep as she also broke red on us a little bit and then cried on our shoulders as she dramatically told the tale of environmental peril that our friends in Louisiana now face. I do suspect her need to be so very expressive had a lot to do with the juleps she'd enjoyed, but also, Z and I and all my "sister assistants" had been through a long day of emotion as well, sans whiskey. I saw Z start to lose it, and that's something I just couldn't allow at that particular moment, so I asserted myself a little, gave the lady a dollop of spiritual comfort, and seeing a break in her clouds, we put out the cigs and dashed back into the media room where Todd Pletcher and the representatives from Winstar Farms were speaking to reporters and answering questions.When the Derby is over and the rest of civilization is settling down and relaxing, the media activity begins to gallop and sprint to their own finish line a/k/a deadline. Everyone was bustling about, the lady from the powder room was grabbing herself some well-deserved dinner (the biggest breast of fried chicken I ever saw, and cute chocolate cupcakes with icing roses on top), and I was trying to find a place to cash my ICE BOX place ticket. Oh, and here's a tragic detail: the Downs staff stopped serving Mint Juleps, beer, or anything alcoholic as soon as the race was through. We were devastated...but we pressed onward!
peace,
Kimmy
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