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It’s about a lot more than Hooters

And finally, the Hooters Girls.
I can’t speak for all college-educated members of Generation X, but I think our readers’ experiences will support me when I say that though Harrison County remains a good place to raise a child, most of our young adults won’t even return after college.
In fact, we expect them to go somewhere else.
‘Why don’t you move?’ I’m often asked. People pose the question apropos of nothing. I might as well be living in my mother’s basement.
It’s common knowledge that now that I’ve gotten a degree and my feet wet, I’m supposed to move on to bigger and better things.
Now some people will read those previous paragraphs as describing thoughts belonging entirely to yours truly. They’ll get angry, and they’ll say ‘Well, why don’t he move? We don’t need attitudes like that.’
And if those people were representative of all of Harrison County, over the years this place would grow to be truly lonely. Generations would grow up, leave the nest and move on for fear of stagnation and suffocation or just because they felt more free elsewhere.
I’m here because I feel differently. I want a chance to be someplace where I can make a real impact rather than get lost in the shuffle. And I view Harrison County as a place that will be more and more cosmopolitan throughout my lifetime.
Several years ago, I attended a study conducted by a group which analyzes small towns and makes recommendations intended to promote growth on a variety of levels. The town under the microscope was Elizabeth.
Several townspeople asked their surveyors to address the problem of young people growing up to leave their town and never return.
Provincial life has its charms, but how will those charms stand up when weighed by young adults against the charms of a college town or big city?
I’m just a lowly writer who doesn’t mow his lawn regularly. Harrison County can probably afford to lose me. But consider my peers who have grown up to become medical doctors, attorneys, professors and other professionals. They could be successful anywhere, and most have chosen to be successful elsewhere.
This county suffers a brain drain. That’s a fact. It’s a symptom of a rural community that is by no means unique.
What does any of this have to do with Hooters Girls?
Well, in a rural community, we seem to waste a lot of time going around in circles over bull excrement.
After spending a day strolling down Bardstown Road in Louisville and then coming home to attend a festival where a young lady who looked barely 21 was berated to tears by an older woman because she works for Hooters restaurant, I was disturbed.
I think we all agree that inner-beauty is a good thing. I guess we are divided over outer-beauty. But inner-ugly, well, that runs straight to the heart.
This happened during Cockadoodle Days. In my mind, it was the one blemish on an otherwise very successful event. The young lady quickly regained her composure, and most people were none the wiser.
The four nervous Hooters Girls came to the fairgrounds wearing their trademark, tucked-in tanktops and warm-up pants. They briefly revealed their short shorts and beige hose when announcing the hot wings eating contest.
No touching. No dirty talk. No wardrobe failures. No undulating hips. No heaving bosoms. Their behavior was, in a word, professional.
Did they awaken some primal sinful urges sleeping within me?
No.
I was too busy gaping at their gorgeous promotions manager, Julie, who was wearing blue jeans, a white blouse and a fantastic smile between her exquisite cheek bones.
Maybe she should have been wearing a veil.
After a few decades of evolution, maybe the opposed will decide to stay home from festivals of which they don’t approve. As it was, someone definitely overdressed for Cockadoodle Days by wearing her discontent on her sleeve.

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