“You don’t have to have it all figured out to move forward.” ~ Unknown
red skies in morn, sailors be warned
September 1997 I worked my first horse sale at Keeneland. That’s when I meet Sharon Shearman and Maggie Jacobs. Sharon was a student from New Zealand working for Maggie, and Maggie was managing L. Clay Camp’s Glenmore Farm and sales in Athens, Kentucky. Mr. Camp was a well-known Virginia-based horseman who has long since departed from this realm. When I met him, he was a rotund man, didn’t smile much, liked to cuss, and spent most of his time in the sales ring rather than the barns. Days at the sales started about 5 am. The horses need breakfast, a bath, and the stalls cleaned and refreshed with clean straw and hay – and all of it has to be dried and put back in its place by 8 am showtime. One such morning bore the reddest sunrise I’ve ever seen, even redder than we had this morning (above). As we were working I happened to say within earshot of Mr. Camp, “Red skies at night, sailors’ delight. Red skies in morn, sailors be warned.” We’d only just met, briefly mind you, so he walks over to me and asks where I’m from. Eastern Kentucky. “There’s no god damn ocean in Eastern Kentucky,” he grumbled. “Where are you from?” He asked again, and again I said Eastern Kentucky. “There is no god damn ocean in Eastern Kentucky,” he insisted. “Who did you hear that from?” he barked. My grandmother. “Where is she from?” he asked. Eastern Kentucky. “I told you there’s no god damn ocean in Eastern Kentucky,” looking at me as if I was lying as he turned nearly as red as the sky. In silence I waited for an explanation that never came. Finally, I said, “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m from Eastern Kentucky. My grandmother is from Eastern Kentucky. The whole family is from Eastern Kentucky. Been there for hundreds of years. Maybe the ancestors brought it over on the boat all those years ago and it stuck.” He grunted and walked away, but as he did I saw the corner of his mouth curl upward, or at least try to. Attempted smile for the win. If you’re from the mountains, apparently, outsiders will expect you to know all things maritime if you mention anything about the weather. I never see a red sunrise without replaying that exchange in my head, and I always giggle.
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