In defense of "Hillbilly Elegy"

With the cinematic adaptation of Hillbilly Elegy, the memoir written by J.D. Vance about his life as the descendant of a family that moved from the mountains of eastern Kentucky to the industrial midwest, hitting the screen this week, there's been a renewed interest in the book.

The 2016 tome's been subjected to a lot of criticism, much of it from liberals who, like Vance's family, moved away from Appalachia in search of a better life. They seem to recoil at the idea that with hard work and determination, anyone can break away from anchors such as poverty and substance abuse to succeed in life.

Vance never really promoted his book as anything more than his own experiences, but far too many have tried to paint it as what in their view is a flawed narrative about an entire region and culture.

I finally had a chance to read the book last year, and couldn't find anything in it with which to find fault. And I feel like I can bring a unique perspective to an analysis of his work.

Although Vance grew up in Middletown, Ohio, in an area populated with expatriate Kentuckians, his family hails from Breathitt County, and he notes in the book that he spent many summers and holidays back in the mountains. I grew up in, and still live in, a county adjacent to Breathitt. I've lived in Appalachia all my life (including six years in Winchester, as Clark County is considered to be Appalachian by the federal government). And I've worked in Breathitt County for more than two decades. I don't know any of Vance's Breathitt relatives -- at least I don't think I do -- but I certainly know the places of which he writes, and the way of life there.

In addition, my wife's background is a bit similar to Vance's. She was born in Ohio to parents who had relocated from Lee County. (They returned home when she was young.) Her family didn't suffer the dysfunctionality or substance abuse issues like Vance's, but she was one of the first from her family to attend and graduate from college. I've heard her stories, and combined with my own observations and experiences, I feel like this enables me to provide a valid viewpoint.

The same issues Vance faced as a youth in southwestern Ohio are similar to those endured by those who remain in southeastern Kentucky. The same economic conditions that caused folks to migrate northward years ago are now manifesting themselves in those communities with the closure of industrial facilities that popularized a different set of "Three R's" in the mountains -- reading, (w)riting, and Route 23 (or 25 or 27, as the case may be, as all three highways lead out of Kentucky and across the Ohio River). Addiction issues are well-known in the mountains and are also problematic in the Rust Belt. Families where children are raised by their grandparents are very common in this area. Many of Vance's critics have labeled him as an outsider writing about rural mountain culture. They forget that his roots are here, and the community from where he came in Ohio is full of transplanted hillbillies, to the point where the Breathitt County High School basketball team used to play two road games a year, on back-to-back nights, in northern Kentucky so transplanted Breathitt Countians could come see the Bobcats play and meet up with family from back home.

As noted, Vance never intended the book to be anything more than his story of someone who broke the cycle and found success, but his story should be inspirational. If he could overcome his environment, anyone with determination can. Perhaps that's why so many liberals are dismissive of his chronicle, if not outright hostile to his story.

No one could legitimately call the "War on Poverty," waged since at least the Johnson administration in the 1960s, a success. Poor areas of Appalachia remain poor despite millions of dollars being pumped into the area through welfare programs. This has, whether anyone likes it or not, eroded the work ethic that those of Vance's grandparents' vintage took with them to the midwest. But there are still plenty of people who want to work and support themselves and their families, and make something of their lives. But they're stuck with bad roads, slow or nonexistent Internet service, and other infrastructure hindrances. A region that was ravaged with population losses two generations ago continues to hemorrhage its best and brightest; many of whom would love to stay but simply cannot afford to.

I have yet to see a cogent explanation of why Hillbilly Elegy is "trash," as so many call it, beyond that declaration itself, as if it's definitive. Are they rejecting Vance's experience? Would they prefer that people be given money, rather than being given opportunities to earn their own money? Are those who left the hills for bigger cities so far removed from their own experiences that they fail to see what's going on back home? What, exactly, do they find in Vance's personal story that is so bad?

My own observation is that Vance's saga is spot-on. He could have chosen a life similar to that of his mother, many of his contemporaries, or the thousands of people left behind in the mountains from which his forebears migrated away. That would have been the easy way out. He didn't. He didn't settle for that existence. He went to college and then on to law school. He made his own opportunities and leveraged them into success.

Why anyone would disparage Vance's success and his accomplishments in the face of adversity makes little sense. Do they not believe he managed to make it the way he did, without being propped up by government giveaways? Does his story threaten the vision they have for the mountains, one where everyone is reliant on Uncle Sam? What is so objectionable about his life story?

I probably won't see the movie, even though parts of it were shot in Breathitt County. Early reviews indicate that it isn't terribly true to the book, as the movie begins with Vance being summoned home from law school to deal with his mother's drug problems. But the criticisms of the movie are generating renewed bashing of the book. When I first read it, I did so with the knowledge that many were critical of it. I may have to try to find a copy of it and re-read it with an even more keen eye to try to find just what so many -- wrongly, in my view -- find objectionable.

There's a reason that "Team Kentucky" logo looks familiar

Do you hear the "Team Kentucky" catchphrase and see the "Team Kentucky" logo that's used every day to promote the state's mandates in response to the Wuhan Chinese virus and think, "Wow, that seems familiar?"

There's a good reason it should. Before "Team Kentucky" became the slogan for the Beshear administration's anti-virus effort and the hashtag for its social media promotion, it was the campaign slogan for the Democrats' run for statewide offices last year.

A trip down the Twitter rabbit hole over the weekend journeyed through 2019 attorney general candidate Greg Stumbo's feed. The former House speaker, who ignobly lost his legislative seat in 2016 as Republicans swept control of the lower chamber, sought a political comeback three years later by running for the statewide office he held to the detriment of the state during Ernie Fletcher's gubernatorial term. As that campaign wound down, the Democrat slate and their surrogates mounted a tour of the state to promote what ended up being, except for Andy Beshear, a lost cause. They undertook this effort under the "Team Kentucky" moniker.

But don't just take my word for it. Let Stumbo and Rocky Adkins, the former legislator and unsuccessful gubernatorial candidate who now works as a key aide to Gov. Beshear, show you in their own tweets.

That was last year. Now, the "Team Kentucky" campaign slogan and logo have been repurposed as some sort of official state initiative.

In simpler terms, every "Team Kentucky" slide that's shown during the daily virus briefings; every inclusion of the logo in the signature of a state email message; every encouragement for Kentuckians to be a part of "Team Kentucky;" is a political statement. Would anyone be surprised if, when Beshear runs again in 2023 and the virus crisis is behind us, the slogan isn't used in that campaign?

It's not unusual for politicians and officials to adopt slogans for campaigns and causes. Fletcher themed his inauguration "Unite Kentucky" but that phrase wasn't used again, for any state program or for his re-election campaign. Plays on words are often used. Witness "Kynect" for the now-resurrected health insurance purchasing exchange, as shorthand for "Kentucky Connect," as in, "we will connect you to health insurance plans."

There's certainly nothing wrong with using a catchy phrase to promote a public effort. "Give a hoot, don't pollute!" "Only you can prevent fires!" And it's understandable that government officials would want to get buy-in to their virus response, especially since that response has taken such a toll on the state's economy and has eroded the freedoms of so many individuals in addition to causing them financial hardships. But the whole "Team Such-And-Such" tag is getting old. Someone needs to find the person who first came up with that phrase and slap them hard across the face. Mitch McConnell uses it for every campaign.

If someone doesn't like the coach or the decisions he's making, it's hard for them to want to be on "Team Kentucky." It becomes even more difficult when the same phrase used to promote government mandates someone opposes was lifted from a political campaign by candidates who promote policies with which they disagree. While we all want the virus to go away, not everyone is onboard with mask wearing, school closures, business restrictions, and everything else members of that team are asked to adopt or endorse.

"Team Kentucky" may have been a perfectly fine slogan for the state's Wuhan Chinese virus publicity efforts had it not been previously used for a political campaign. But one has to wonder where that branding will go from here. When the virus is in the rear-view mirror, will the state use it to promote some other cause? One perhaps more popular and less controversial than the virus mandates and recommendations? And then in three years, will that slogan be transitioned again for an election? Will people be so conditioned to seeing "Team Kentucky" that it's as recognizable a logo as, say, McDonald's Golden Arches?

Republicans have been accused of politicizing the virus. But when the government recycles a political campaign slogan and logo for its official messaging, who's playing politics?

Kentucky media outlets, who have been so eager to cheerlead for the mandates and restrictions the government has handed down, are either unaware of the slogan's history, or they've chosen not to make the public aware of it. You be the judge of which scenario applies. Scant few pundits have dared to voice an opinion in opposition to the lockdowns, the forced business closures, the restriction of elective medical services -- except, of course, for abortions -- and all the other hardships we've been made to endure.

So, the next time you see the "Team Kentucky" logo or hear the phrase, with the urging to be a player on that team, now you'll know the history of that branding.

Mitch McConnell's swan song? Speculation on his future may provide fodder for political junkies

Sen. Mitch McConnell was favored to win re-election this year, but his margin of victory defied predictions and expectations. Polling consistently showed him with a decent advantage over challenger Amy McGrath, but no one could have foreseen what turned into a 20-point victory over a candidate who had high name recognition and plenty of campaign cash to throw into her candidacy.

So now that McConnell is going back to Washington, seemingly once again as Senate majority leader, what's next for the man who's credited for bringing back the Kentucky Republican Party from its moribund state in the 1970s and early 80s and propelling it to its position of dominance in Bluegrass politics?

McConnell is 78 years old; he'll turn 79 in February as the new congressional session is getting underway. It's widely believed that this is his last term and that he will not seek re-election in 2026, when he'll be 84. Conventional political wisdom is that his protege, Kentucky Attorney General Daniel Cameron, is being groomed to take his place.

But political speculation is always a fun game to play, so let's engage in a little of it where Kentucky's senior senator is concerned.

In weeks leading up to the election, McConnell's health came into question. His hands appeared badly bruised in some photos, and some said they could tell he was wearing makeup at some of his public appearances and his face appeared to look different. It prompted lots of wondering if perhaps he hadn't suffered a fall, and others theorized that he's having heart issues.

When Congress goes back into session, Gov. Andy Beshear will be entering the second year of his four-year term. Beshear will be up for re-election in 2023, at which time McConnell will have passed the 80 mark.

If something happens to McConnell between now and then, Beshear will get to choose his successor. Who might get the nod? It wouldn't be surprising if Beshear picks his father, former Gov. Steve Beshear, who ran unsuccessfully against McConnell in 1996 and was unable to deny him a third term.

But what might occur if McConnell is still kicking when 2023 rolls around? That's where the fun part of the speculation begins.

McConnell has long been the elephant in the room (pun intended) in Republican politics in Kentucky. He backed U.S. Rep. Ernie Fletcher for governor in 2003, then cut Fletcher's legs out from under him when then-Attorney General Greg Stumbo came after him. He dried up fellow Sen. Jim Bunning's fundraising for the 2010 senatorial election, forcing Bunning to decide not to run for re-election. (That gambit didn't pay off as planned, as Rand Paul defeated McConnell's chosen candidate, Trey Grayson, in the GOP primary.) Some are convinced he undermined Gov. Matt Bevin's re-election bid last year and tacitly supported Beshear because he was still angry that Bevin had dared to challenge him in the 2014 Senate primary. And he's also believed to have backed both Cameron and Secretary of State Michael Adams against primary foes last year, when the front-runners had come oh-so-close to ousting better-known and better-funded Democrats in 2015.

Plus, no one has ever provided a definitive answer to the supposition that McConnell and former Gov. Paul Patton had some sort of arrangement over the 1999 governor's race, when a vulnerable Patton, standing for re-election, didn't face a viable GOP challenger.

It's a given that there will be a crowded field in Republican ranks for the 2023 gubernatorial nomination. Treasurer Mike Harmon, Agriculture Secretary Ryan Quarles, and Treasurer Allison Ball are all logical and rumored candidates, as they were re-elected last year and are term-limited in their current positions. Congressman Jamie Comer is also an oft-rumored candidate, and conservative favorite state Rep. Savannah Maddox is getting all sorts of encouragement to run due to her outspoken stands against Gov. Beshear's executive orders in dealing with the Wuhan Chinese virus. Adams and Cameron are in their first terms, and are also mentioned at times as possible candidates, but they are less likely to run -- Cameron because he's seen as McConnell's eventual successor, and Adams because he forged a partnership with Beshear on election changes this year that have angered a number of Republicans.

McConnell might not make a public endorsement in the gubernatorial primary, but if he has a preferred candidate, his influence will be known and felt. And it wouldn't be surprising if McConnell makes a deal with a gubernatorial candidate: If you will pledge to appoint Daniel Cameron to the Senate, I will go all-in on your campaign and then resign after you are elected. Should McConnell be able to extract such a promise from one of the candidates, that's who he's likely to support.

McConnell claims to relish being the Senate majority leader, but he may not enjoy that job as much in the future as he has in the past. For at least two years, he's still going to have to deal with Nancy Pelosi as House speaker. Plus, it's looking increasingly likely that the presidency will be held by a Democrat, so he won't be able to tout judicial appointments as an accomplishment. He'll be back to where he was during the Barack Obama presidency, decrying his lack of ability to get anything done because he's only one-half of one-third of the government.

It's amazing that he was able to win re-election the way he did, given that he's disliked equally by liberal Democrats and by the conservative wing of the GOP. Brad Barron, a Libertarian, made a gallant effort to siphon conservative votes away from McConnell, but was unsuccessful in affecting the outcome. And liberals who continue to insist that the Democrats would have stood a better chance of beating McConnell with state Rep. Charles Booker instead of McGrath again show they don't understand just how this state is skewing to the right and away from the radical liberalism Booker represents. "Cocaine Mitch" beat the fighter pilot by 20 points. His margin against Booker would have been at least 25 points.

If McConnell's health holds up, how he inserts himself into the 2023 gubernatorial race will definitely be worth watching. And if the GOP wrests the governorship away from Beshear, his future will certainly be in play.

Kentucky voters send a strong message through GOP legislative landslide

Tuesday's election results in Kentucky further solidified the fact that Republicans are gaining power in the Bluegrass State, and Democrats are losing their grip on the reins of governance that they've controlled in this commonwealth for decades.

The most staggering outcome was in the state House of Representatives, where the GOP solidified its control of the chamber it first flipped in 2016. With a couple of races still too close to call, as of this writing it appears the Republicans will hold a whopping 75-25 advantage in the House.

And as much as Democrats wish they could, they can't blame this on gerrymandering. The House is still operating under districts that were drawn up in 2012, when Democrats were in the majority and held the leadership positions. To add insult to injury, many of these districts were set up in such a way as to benefit Democrats at the time the state was last redistricted.

Republicans have made such inroads into territory traditionally controlled by the Democrats that in Breathitt County, where Democrats have ruled for eons, a Republican state representative candidate from Estill County carried the county over a Democrat who lives in Breathitt. A decade ago, predicting that would have gotten you an involuntary admission to a mental hospital for observation.

While much of the GOP's success can be attributed to the presence of President Donald Trump at the top of the ballot, there's a more logical and timely explanation to the results that saw the GOP pick up more than a dozen seats, both in contested races by beating incumbent Democrats and in races with open seats currently held by Democrats who didn't seek re-election.

The Kentucky legislative races were a direct referendum on Gov. Andy Beshear's handling of the Wuhan Chinese virus. Recent public opinion polling showed the governor's approval rating hovering in the 55 percent range, but the flaws in polling were laid bare again in the presidential election. The real measure of public opinion comes at the ballot box, and the message sent Tuesday was that the governor either needs to change his approach to the virus, or the legislature will change it for him when the odd-year session starts in January.

Already, bills for the 2021 session have been prefiled that would severely limit the governor's emergency powers and prohibit the state from requiring vaccinations against the virus. Several bills to restrain the governor's ability to order sweeping business closures and institute mandates will likely be considered, but the best of the bunch is Bill Request 130, sponsored by GOP firebrand and rising star Rep. Savannah Maddox.

A Libertarian Party House candidate from west-central Kentucky, who made impeaching Beshear the top issue of his campaign, failed to unseat the incumbent Republican in his district, but rumblings out of Frankfort are that impeachment will be brought up. Across the state, the citizenry is tired of the restrictions it has been forced to live under since the spring. Jobs lost, businesses closed, schools dismissed and converted to at-home learning, everyday activities curtailed, unemployment system failures, and the general disruption of lives -- all of this has Kentucky residents ready for changes. And since the state does not have a recall provision for removing elected officials, the only way to reduce an executive's power is either to pass legislative limitations or by impeachment.

Every time the governor has announced some new restraints on the lives of Kentuckians, legislative leaders have responded by saying there will be a reckoning next year. We'll have to see if the governor gets the message the voters of the state sent him.

But beyond that, Republicans continued to show just how far they've come in a state that went 32 years between GOP governors between 1971 and 2003. A state that went twice for Bill Clinton for president roundly rejected a Democrat from neighboring Tennessee in 2000, and hasn't given its electoral votes to a Democrat since. Voter registration has been trending Republican to the point where the Democrats are on pace to lose the registration majority in a few years. State legislative districts in areas that have been solid Democrat strongholds for decades are sending Republicans to Frankfort. A Republican was elected to fill the state senate seat that will represent Frankfort -- the stereotypical company town -- and Frankin County. Two years ago, for the first time ever, Republicans took the majority of county judge-executive positions in Kentucky's 120 counties. The GOP holds both seats in the United States Senate, and five of six congressional seats. None of the Republican incumbents was seriously challenged in an election that saw Trump win all but two of Kentucky's counties (the liberal bastions of Jefferson and Fayette.) And last year, only the personal unpopularity of Gov. Matt Bevin prevented Republicans from sweeping all statewide constitutional offices.

There are as many explanations for this as there are Bluegrass political analysts to suggest them. Mitch McConnell's work to build the Republican Party as a statewide force instead of a regional faction limited to the "Old Fifth" is one reason. The shift of national Democrats away from the party's traditional focus to a more liberal viewpoint is another. How many times have you heard, "I didn't leave the Democrats, they left me," over the past few years? The view from here is that Kentuckians got tired of seeing their state ranking low in categories where a high rank is desirable, and ranking high in categories where it's preferable to rank low. They finally realized which party had run the state for years, particularly state government, and decided it was time for a change.

For years, Kentucky's legislature met for a 60-day session every two years. That fact gave rise to the oft-expressed sentiment that the state would be better off if the General Assembly met for two days every 60 years instead of 60 days every two years. In odd-numbered years, the legislature met only for a five-day organizational session after the previous November's elections. However, in 1998, Kentucky voters approved a constitutional amendment that allowed for annual sessions, and the odd-year sessions began in 2001. The rules are a bit different for the 30-day sessions, however, as supermajorities are required for passage of certain bills.

The practice has been that in odd years, the legislature would convene for a week for an organizational session as always, but consideration of legislation would not begin until the session reconvened several weeks later. That changed in 2017, after the GOP took control of the House of Representatives, giving them supermajorities in both chambers. With a Republican governor in power, the legislature passed an ambitious package of legislation during its first week.

So between now and January, observers should pay attention to the governor's words and deeds. Since the virus became a factor in Kentucky in March, Beshear has shown little inclination to work with legislative leaders. His recommendations and orders have come without benefit of consultation with the General Assembly. When legislative leaders have pushed back, he's bristled. With Republicans in even firmer control of the House and Senate, will Beshear strike a more conciliatory tone? Will he seek input from legislators? Or will he continue to act independently?

And what will the legislators do? Will they be ready to act during their first week in session, secure in the knowledge that they're immune from a gubernatorial veto? Or will they wait until they reconvene for the balance of their short session?

There's lots of business left to be done from this spring's virus-shortened meeting, including passage of the second year of a biennial budget. Given the urgency that the virus seemed to dictate, the legislature didn't do a lot of whittling on the governor's proposal. House leadership has already said one of their priorities is to pass "a responsible budget" when they come back into session. But representatives and senators, leaders and members, are saying more frequently that the governor's response to the virus will be under review, with various degrees of diplomacy in their statements. Some are more adamant than others that the governor will pay a price for actions they deem to be unilateral, heavy-handed, and detrimental to the long-term prospects of the state.

Kentucky voters weighed in on their expectations of the legislator via the Tuesday election results. Legislators have already indicated they heard the message. Whether or not the governor did remains to be seen and bears watching.