Kearney is blessed with very caring, selfless, generous people. Look no farther than the $1.93 million raised in the 11th annual Give Where You Live Thursday. Alas, even perfection has a flaw or two.
A few weeks ago, I headed to the World Theatre to see “King Coal,” a documentary on the declining coal industry in Appalachia. I wanted to explore my roots.
My grandparents were born in Beattyville, Ky. My grandfather worked as a coal miner for a year or two, but he hated working underground, so with his young wife, a baby and a cow and a sow, he headed north to Ohio for a better life.
At a family reunion in Kentucky 35 years ago, we piled into cars and wound deep into the mountains to find our roots. The frame house where my grandmother was born and raised burned down long ago, but we found the well, along with a rusting car from the 1950s.
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That afternoon, we scrambled up a little ravine seeking the hidden graves of Milton Rhodes Boone and Patty Akers, my great-great grandparents, and my great-grandmother Ella Eva Boone and others. (Yes, Boone, as in Daniel. He’s a great uncle of generations ago.) Their humble headstones were hidden under ivy.
I went to the World to be transported back to Appalachia for an hour or two.
I parked in front of MONA, but as soon as I opened the car door, I was assaulted by shrieking music with a country swagger. It rushed in like thunder,.
As I regained my senses, I wondered where it was coming from. MONA is closed for renovations, and nearby stores and the tattoo parlor were closed. Nothing was open except the World Theatre.
Then I remembered that the city had decided to blast music down Central Avenue day and night. As that music blared, I got angry. What’s the purpose of this racket? Friday nights at the World, especially in the winter, have a magic all their own. That music is like turning on a jackhammer amidst the peace and quiet.
Frowning, I began thinking about those colored lights that change hues every few minutes on Kearney’s water towers, too. What’s wrong with ordinary white lights? This costume change every few minutes is a waste of money. Yes, money. My money – and yours, too. We pay the taxes to finance those lights.
Who cares about a color wheel on water towers, anyway, especially this time of year? It’s cold at night, and nobody is outside except motorists and dog-walkers this time of year anyway.
Back to that downtown music. At Christmas, some cities pipe carols in their shopping districts. Walking down Central Avenue this time of year and hearing Michael Buble and Bing Crosby crooning holiday tunes doesn’t bother me. But not at night, please, especially in parts of downtown that get only a handful of visitors after dark.
Alas, we are prisoners of noise everywhere. Airports, shopping centers, grocery stores, discount stores, restaurants, medical offices. You name it, there’s music. It’s so prevalent that some people in Gen Z can’t tolerate silence and require white noise to fall asleep.
Background music belongs politely in the background, but at restaurants and wedding receptions, it’s shoved to the front. At wedding receptions, that darn music thunders so loud that we guests have to lean close and shout into each other’s ears to converse. It’s no fun.
Once I asked a venue owner why the music was so loud and he just looked at me. He couldn’t think of a reason. Finally, he muttered, “It’s what people want.”’ I suspect he just can’t hear the requests to turn it down.
Now so-called background music has shoved its way to the front in Kearney, too. If individual stores choose to play music inside, fine, but we don’t need it outside. Kearney has a thriving downtown. It’s the shops, not music or lack thereof, that bring people downtown.
Which brings me back to the movie at The World. There were just nine of us in the theater that night, but the film gave me lots to ponder. When it ended, my head still spinning, I zipped up my jacket and headed back out to Central Avenue. That screeching music slammed me like a splat of mud in the face. Really, Kearney? Our city is better than that.
Kearney is blessed with very caring, selfless, generous people. Look no farther than the $1.93 million raised in the 11th annual Give Where You Live Thursday. Alas, even perfection has a flaw or two.
A few weeks ago, I headed to the World Theatre to see “King Coal,” a documentary on the declining coal industry in Appalachia. I wanted to explore my roots.
My grandparents were born in Beattyville, Ky. My grandfather worked as a coal miner for a year or two, but he hated working underground, so with his young wife, a baby and a cow and a sow, he headed north to Ohio for a better life.
At a family reunion in Kentucky 35 years ago, we piled into cars and wound deep into the mountains to find our roots. The frame house where my grandmother was born and raised burned down long ago, but we found the well and a rusting car from the 1950s.
That afternoon, we scrambled up a little ravine seeking the hidden graves of Milton Rhodes Boone and Patty Akers, my great-great grandparents, and my great-grandmother Ella Eva Boone and others. (Yes, Boone, as in Daniel. He’s a great uncle of generations ago.) Their humble headstones were hidden under ivy.
I went to the World to be transported back to Appalachia for an hour or two, to mountains and gorges and railcars lumbering with coal.
I parked in front of MONA, but as soon as I got out, I was assaulted by shrieking music with a country swagger. It rushed in like thunder.
As I regained my senses, I was puzzled. Where was it coming from? MONA is closed for renovations, and nearby stores and the tattoo parlor were closed. Nothing was open except the World Theatre.
Then I remembered that the city had decided to blast music down Central Avenue day and night. As that music blared, I got angry. Friday nights at the World, especially in the winter, have a magic all their own. That music is like turning on a jackhammer amidst the peace and quiet.
I began thinking about those colored lights that change hues every few minutes on Kearney’s water towers. Lighting the towers is lovely, but white is fine. This costume change every few minutes is a waste of money. My money, and yours, too. We pay the taxes to finance those lights.
Who cares about a color wheel of hues on water towers, anyway, especially this time of year? It’s cold at night, and only motorists and dog-walkers are outside this time of year anyway.
Back to that downtown music. At Christmas, some cities pipe carols in their shopping districts. Hearing Michael Buble and Bing Crosby crooning holiday tunes on Central Avenue in December doesn’t bother me. But not at night, please, especially in parts of downtown that get just a handful of visitors after dark.
Alas, we are prisoners of noise everywhere. Airports, shopping centers, grocery stores, discount stores, restaurants, medical offices. You name it, there’s music. It’s so prevalent that some people in Gen Z can’t tolerate silence and require white noise to fall asleep.
Background music belongs politely in the background, but at restaurants and wedding receptions, it’s shoved to the front. At wedding receptions, that darn music thunders so loud that we guests have to lean close and shout into each other’s ears to converse. It’s no fun.
Once I asked a venue owner why the music was so loud and he just looked at me. He couldn’t think of a reason. Finally, he muttered, “It’s what people want.”’ I suspect he just can’t hear the requests to turn it down.
Now background music has shoveled its way to the front in Kearney, too. If individual stores choose to play music inside, fine, but we don’t need it outside. Kearney has a thriving downtown. It’s the shops, not the music, that bring people downtown.
Which brings me back to the movie at The World. There were just nine of us in the theater that night, but the film gave me lots to ponder. When it ended, my head still spinning, I zipped up my jacket and headed back out to Central Avenue. That screeching music slammed me like a splat of mud in the face. Really, Kearney? Our city is better than that.
