We’re All Ears: Chapter 4
“Look Chloe! Section C, Page 1, Column 2
-- the Classified section. Read it, please,” I
requested as I pointed to the spot. “Read it
out loud so everyone can hear it.”
“Are you, or someone you know, going
prematurely gray?” Everyone giggled as I
pointed to the correct spot again.
“Do you have what it takes to be the next
Miss America?” Chloe read with a confused tone, raising her eyebrows at me,
causing another laugh.
“Are you the Craftiest Kentuckian?” Chloe
read.
“That’s it!” I exclaimed. Chloe continued.
“How well do you know your Kentucky heritage? Are you an expert in the longstanding traditions of the Bluegrass? If so, the Craftiest Kentuckian Competition is for you. There are seven categories to enter: Kentucky
music, Kentucky art, Kentucky cuisine, Kentucky literature, Kentucky dancing, Kentucky facts, and Kentucky
hobbies. Contestants may enter one or all categories. In addition, contestants may be individuals or a team of
two. Winners in each category will be eligible for the Craftiest Kentuckian Grand Champion. Grand champion
will receive various prizes including one night free at your choice of one of Kentucky’s 49 state parks, two free
tickets to the Kentucky Derby, dinner at the Governor’s Mansion, and serve as grand marshal in several parades
throughout the state. To enter...”
“Grand marshal of a parade? Did you hear that, Chloe? We are going to be riding on a convertible, waving and
passing out candy. And we’re going to the Derby too! You’ll have to buy a hat!”
“And I can wear that hat to the Governor’s Mansion too!” Chloe said, beaming.
“Hold it you two,” Dad interjected. “I’m all for this competition, but before you practice your parade wave, we
need to focus on the task at hand. We need to put together a plan as well as establish a few rules.”
“Rules?” I said, groaning.
“Yes, son. Once you commit to the contest, there’s no backing out. So if things start getting tough, you aren’t quitting. Are you listening, Woody?” Dad asked, knowing I had a habit of waiting to talk instead of listening. “Remember how we always say that a job worth doing is worth doing right? The same is true for this. It will require
time and effort. Are you willing to put forth both?”
“Yes, sir,” Chloe and I said in unison.
“Terrific. Just remember that studying, reading, school work and chores come first. Your mom and I will support
you and help you in any way we can.”
I had the best parents on Earth. Chloe and I thanked them and gave them a big hug!
“You know what you two need?” Mr. B. asked with excitement. “You doggies need a project manager.”
“A project manager?” I repeated.
“Yes sire! You need a project manager,” Mr. B. said. “You know, someone to give you some direction, keep you on
task, and offer advice and encouragement.”
“That’s what Mom and Dad are for,” I said, causing everyone to chuckle.
“Well sure, but this is the big time, so you need a big-time manager,” Mr. B. explained.
“Who could we get?” I asked.
Mr. B. put this thumbs through the straps of his denim overalls and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Well, I
just might be willing to help, but only if you insist.”
“Oh yes! We insist!” Chloe and I shouted.
“Well let’s get to work. What we need is a plan,” Mr. B. pointed out. “You know the ol’ saying, fail to plan and plan
to fail. And believe me, we aren’t planning on failing. If we’re going to be the grand champions, we need to learn
as much about Kentucky as possible.”
“Mom and Dad are always telling us that we need to be knowledgeable about the state we live in -- not just the
facts like knowing the governor or capital, but knowing the history,” I said.
“I knew you had smart folks the moment I met them,” Mr. B. said as he winked. “I have to go get my motorcar
before they think I’m never coming back, but before we call it a day, let’s look over this list and decide what categories we are going to concentrate on.”
I picked up the newspaper and silently read the list again: Kentucky music, Kentucky art, Kentucky cuisine, Kentucky literature, Kentucky dancing, Kentucky facts, Kentucky hobbies.
As I read the list, I realized something. My palms became sweaty and my heart was pounding as hard as it was
when I thought Mr. B. was a burglar.
“Uh, Mom, Dad, Mr. B., Chloe, we have a problem,” I said, my voice quivering. “We’re not going to be able to
enter the contest.”