A Kentucky Story
Day 9 of our virtual road trip takes us north from Tennessee to Kentucky.
The main thing I remember about Kentucky is going to church camp in Wilmore every fours years from 1976 – 1988. The small denomination we were a part of had a “general camp” every quadrennial (seriously, that’s what they called it!) at the Holiness campground that was connected with Asbury College there in Wilmore. General Camp was when people from our churches all over the country–actually, all over the world, I guess, since there were always missionaries there, too–came together for an old-fashioned campmeeting. I always looked forward to it.
The first time I got to go I was 10. That year my parents took me, two of my young aunts, and one of my cousins from Arkansas to Kentucky for the camp. My siblings stayed in Arkansas with our grandparents. I can’t remember why the arrangements were worked out that way, but that was not the usual way we did things. In fact, that’s one of the few trips I remember from my childhood that I went on without my younger sisters and brothers.
I asked Rachel (one of the young aunts) what she remembered about the trip. To my surprise, she remembered less than I did. She said, “I just remember we rode in the van for hours and hours.”
We did. That was during the time when the national speed limit was 55mph so it took nearly forever to get where you were going. I remember playing with Rachel’s Etch-a-Sketch and a Barbie-style pioneer doll she brought. I don’t remember what I brought along to keep us occupied. Books maybe, knowing me.
She and I don’t remember much about the camp that year. One thing I do remember is that Mother told me that she got to go to Wilmore Camp the summer she was 10, too. That would have been in 1952. This is what their family looked like at that time. (There’s one little uncle front-and-center that I overlooked the first time I saw this picture–just the top of his head, see? My grandparents had 6 children at that time, with 4 yet to be born.)
Among my grandparents’ ephemera I found a calendar that marked the days of their vacation that year:
Their itinerary was:
- July 24 – August 2. At Wilmore Camp.
- August 3. Wilmore, Kentucky.
- August 4. Tennessee, North Carolina, Georgia.
- August 5. Alabama, Louisiana.
- August 6 -11. Texas, Oklahoma. Ryan’s.
- August 12. Journey to Comanche.
- August 13. At Tom’s.
- August 14. Reunion.
- August 15. Home.
- August 16. Return to duty.
Comanche is in Texas, and Tom was one of Granddaddy’s uncles who lived in Comanche. Apparently they had a family reunion there.
I don’t have a list of our itinerary in 1976, but I know we got to do a little sight-seeing in Kentucky on our way home from camp. That was the first time we had ever done such a thing. We went to Mammoth Cave, a wax museum nearby, and Lincoln’s birthplace.
My memories of those sight-seeing stops are pretty vague, too. I remember when they turned off the lights on our tour of Mammoth Cave that I was glad my daddy was close by to hold onto. I remember my cousin was just sure one of the wax figures’ eyes moved in the wax museum. I remember the spring at Lincoln’s birthplace and that the log cabin was inside another building, which I thought was weird. We bought little souvenirs to take home to the other kids. And that’s about all I remember about that.
In 1980 our whole family went to camp at Wilmore along with my grandparents and Rachel. I was 14. Rachel was 16. We speculated about whether we might get boyfriends at camp. We didn’t think it was too likely, but you just never know. We didn’t get boyfriends that year. But what we didn’t realize was that both of our future husbands were at that camp, too. So I guess we did have boyfriends there after all. We just didn’t know it.
In fact, Lyle took these pictures there that year:
Four years later when we went to camp, he and I were engaged.
We were so young. And happy. And skinny.
Anyway, at least we’re still happy.
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Have you been to Kentucky? If so, please share a memory in the comments! That will make this series even more fun!
7 Comments
Rowen
Well, how can I NOT comment on Kentucky? We are loving living in Kentucky so far! We moved here at a good time of the year–most days the weather is perfect and the sky is blue! ~Janet
Karla Ezell Cook
I wondered how you were liking it so far! I do remember it’s a pretty state.
rachelgoingcreative
Well, Kentucky is certainly a hop skip and jump from INDY…but I’m enthralled with the calendar you found of Mother and Daddy’s trip that year. Where did you find that? And also, I wonder why the photographer cut off Keith’s head? It’s interesting to me that they didn’t get everyone in the photo.
Karla Ezell Cook
I can’t remember where I found the calendar. Probably in a scrapbook? I had scanned it several years ago. In regards to the photography, remember the old Brownie cameras that didn’t have a viewfinder? At least, that’s the way I remember them. I never did use one, but I bet that’s the kind that one was. I always thought it must be hard to get your photo framed right without a viewfinder.
Sheila @ Making the Most of Every Day
That’s pretty well centered for no view finder! Look at you and Lyle!!!!!! I love this picture!!!! You look so happy!!
Karla Ezell Cook
I just wish the picture of Lyle and me had been centered. I think his dad took that one of us.
Lyndon Grant Stivers
I attended Wilmore Camp in the early-mid seventies, I think for four years, from 1973 to 1976. Some of the best times of my entire life took place there. Some friends from our street always went with me, and while it was of a spritual/religious theme, it was much more than that for us. It provided a safe, well controlled atmosphere, where we could realx and get away from the hectic lives we had back home. Ford Philpot Ministries was associated with the camp in that day, and it afforded me the opportunity to meet the late Earl Grigsby, who was playing bass for Ford’s band. He was Charlie Daniel’s original bassist, so being in the process of learning to play bass myself, I made a point to introduce myself following the service. As it turned out, he knew of my cousin Kevin, a popular local musician, and allowed me to play his own guitar, and even gave me a lot of tips in his spare time. That experience helped charge my interest in music, and led to a career of many years with my band mates, we even got to front for the legendary Steppenwolf.
Best of all, I met my first true love there, which is why I kept going back every year. We weren’t all that far apart (she was from Ohio, there with her church group), but for a couple of kids without cars, she may as well have been living on the moon. Wilmore was a place we could meet up once a year for a few days and nights, and back then I almost lived for it. The hardest part was saying goodbye at the end of each season (it only lasted ten days). Still, we had those few days each year, and I still dream of the times shared with her, and with all the wonderful friends I made. The local kids from town would also come by and take part in the cookouts and games, and to this day, decades later, I remember many of them well, along with all the great counsellors we had from the college.
At the suggestion of my best friend, when we first had the internet at work, I tried to look my old love up, just to say hello and let her know I still thought of her and held such fond memories of those innocent days, only a few years after the famous Summer of Love. What I found was her obituary. She had died of cancer only a few months before I had the chance to attempt to connect. I did go back to the old campground last year, my patient and supportive wife accompanied me. I just wanted to see how much had changed, and walk the grounds of my youth once more. Thankfully, another religious group owns it, and they have kept most everything intact. The old cabins were gone, but the dorms and the large pavillion remained, even the Children’s Pavillion was still there and being used. A couple of the guys were kind enough to give me a tour of the old buildings and grounds, which was literally like going back in time, since I hadn’t been there since I was around 15 or 16 years old (I’m 66 now). There were two barns near the site, but I don’t recall any road between the camp and the barn where we held our morning devotionals, dances, plays, and other events, so I fear the one pictured here that seems to have been right on the property was possibly torn down.
I would love to see all your photos from your trip, and would very much apprciate it if you could email them all to me, so I could view them individually. I notice the cabins are still present in one of these shots. In any case, I deeply appreciate your post, there will always be a very special place in my heart for Wilmore Campground, and a ton of cherished memories. It was truly magical. Thank you for sharing this.