Ah April…an entire month dedicated to a pregame for a horse race . . . at least in Our Fair City.
Welcome to my view of Louisville from here.
I’m Elizabeth Crowe (nee Tarry) known to many as “ET” and to some as “Liz.” I grew up in southeast Kentucky, Williamsburg to be exact, daughter of college professors/administrators. With one parent a U of L alum, we were Cardinals in Deep Blue Country. Although in my house, basketball was basketball was basketball if you know what I mean so we cheered for “U of K” as we called it as long as they were not playing Our Cardinals.
My husband—a born and raised Louisvillian—and I have always wanted to live in The ‘Ville. But our lives have taken us elsewhere. A lot of elsewheres including three countries overseas, plus a short stint in Overland Park, Kansas and a longer one in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Now, we find ourselves in Central Illinois for the time being. So my view of the city since graduation has been from afar, with as many trips back home as we can manage. I’m an author, booze “expert” (writer), former brewery owner, mom of three grown ups, animal lover/humane society fundraiser, University of Louisville alum (A&S ’89) and proud, expat Kentuckian.
I’m establishing my Louisville bona fides by way of my Derby Experiences, being as it is that time of year. I ventured into the Derby scene early one first Saturday of May morning as a college freshman, prepping for a walking trek to the track and the various security checkpoints, which in the mid-eighties were “not many.” This translated to a ritual that boggled my small-town, terribly naïve young woman’s mind—the pouring of (mostly) brown and some other liquors into ziplock bags, pressing out the air, and then tucking said booze bags into various strategic locales such as: under the chicken in a KFC bucket obtained the night before, under ball caps and down the front of jeans. Gross, yes. But needs must.
Nothing said Derby Infield like rolling your cooler out from under the tunnel and into the sun…okay, most times gray skies and rain but whatever and snipping (biting off) the corner of the first little bag. Sure, we bought one of the even-then overpriced juleps to get the glass but we were poor college kids and ergo, after that fancy first pour of bourbon, sugar syrup and mint we were making them ourselves.
I’ve witnessed a fair number of Life Things via the infield at Derby. I met Terry Meiners once when he was still doing the roving reporter thing which was pretty much the coolest thing ever. We went back as grownups with friends from Michigan one year that the entire place was a giant mudslide. One friend who shall remain nameless as he is a purveyor of the law in a different state now got arrested post-partying once. We have good friends who met there one year, and got engaged there the next.
Since then, we’ve attended in the grandstands and in a private box with our family. But our three kids, none of whom ever lived in the city, all have the Derby Infield on their personal bucket lists. We are proud that two of them have crossed it off, with varying degrees of success (read: public drunkenness with nary a single view of an actual horse).
We Louisvillians/Kentuckians out in the wider world always celebrate on that spring holiday first Saturday of May—last year, on the first Saturday in September—and never cease to be shocked when someone asks us “Why? What’s happening that day?” I even helped organize a fundraiser with an expat group in Istanbul (yes, that Istanbul) one year, complete with mint juleps, fancy hats, a delicious meal at a restaurant, and betting on races using a giant board with pretend horses that moved, made by one of our ingenious Turkish friends. This, of course, being a few years before I got arrested by the Turkish gendarme.
That, as we say, is a story for another time.
I’ll pop in to visit with you now and again, with my View of the Derby City, the River City, the home of bridges over the Ohio to Indiana, bridges that peel off the tops of semis, walking bridges plus (now) toll bridges. Not to mention the sports teams, breweries, bourbon, restaurants and many people that I truly love. I like to call myself an ex-pat Kentuckian (or maybe Louisville Adjacent) and I’ve come to understand that sometimes you have to be away from a place long enough to know how special it is to you, regardless of how imperfect that place may be.
Keep watching, State of Louisville—a fully vaccinated Liz has landed in your midst.
I’m on the socials but be warned: I Have Opinions and also will ask you to buy books, including a rom com that is coming out this time next year called Win Place Show set in the ‘Ville over a Derby weekend.
Twitter: @LizCroweAuthor
Insta: @etlizcrowe
FB: Elizabeth Tarry-Crowe (confusing, yes, but you’ll get the hang of it)
If you want to read some the words I have put out into the world about booze, check out my Brick Magazine archive. I’m currently planning a socially distant and safe trip back the Ville to try some of the craft cocktails bars and various bourbon adventures (is there a theme park yet? No? There should be) for research. Got a place I shouldn’t miss? Let me know where.
