CUMMINS: An examination of Hoosiers and Hillbillies

By TERRY CUMMINS

Why can’t we just get along?

When two diverse groups of people live side-by-side, there can be misunderstandings resulting in feelings of “get out of my hair.” Having lived nearly an equal number of years in two adjoining states — Kentucky and Indiana — I feel qualified to address the differences between these two cultures.

Now it’s not all-out war as we find in the Hatfield-McCoy or the Democrat-Republican feuds. But Hoosier-Hillbilly discord has endured since the invention of basketball.

Before further discourse, I will define the terminology and present a brief historical background. When I migrated to the Hoosier state years ago, I began trying to determine what a Hoosier actually is. It’s been a bit exasperating, because noted historians can’t tell me. One interpretation is that a Hoosier is a Kentuckian whose car broke down on the way to Chicago. Another explanation, and not a very good one, is that a Kentuckian knocked on a door at a Indiana sycamore log cabin when he became lost trying to find Detroit and the occupant said, “Whosehere?”

The term Hillbilly is an archaic one and no longer applies to Kentuckians. It was applicable before Abraham Lincoln moved to Indiana, which hadn’t yet built libraries. Lincoln walked miles to borrow and return books and thus learned how to write the Emancipation Proclamation, which freed the slaves and also freed many Kentuckians, who were always searching for greener pastures for their mules.

Not all Hoosiers were immigrants from Kentucky. In fact, there were one or two who moved back to Kentucky. Did Harland Sanders become a hillbilly when he moved south? No, his goal was to become a colonel. Rather than join the army, he chose moving to Kentucky to learn various ways of frying chicken.

Hillbillies originally resided in the steep part of Kentucky and dug holes in the sides of mountains to extract coal. It was a tough life and they had to wash the black coal dust caked in their throats down with something potent. After experimenting with various kinds of mouthwash, they discovered that moonshine restored sporadic breathing, but caused rowdy behavior, especially at basketball games.

The migration began in force when Kentuckians heard that Hoosiers were mining coal out in the sunshine using bulldozers. Hey, let’s load up the lard kettles, copper kettles and some jugs and try to get across the river in Lewvil. They did and continued clearing out their irritated throats caused by Cummins’ diesel fumes. In the meantime, Indiana began building educational establishments with bookshelves and gyms that seated two counties. When the state hired Bobby Knight to put it on the map, Kentucky countered with a high altar of worship resulting in weekly pilgrimages to Rupp Arena.

In the meantime, Kentucky was drawing thousands upon thousands of people to a Derby, were drinking a glass of lightning with a sprig of some sort of weed sticking out was mandatory. Not to be outdone, a Hoosier came up with the idea of laying bricks around a cornfield and having a car race. The fight goes on. Indy has a Dome and Louisville can’t decide where to build one. They can’t decide where to build a bridge or how to paint the rusty ones still standing.

What put Kentucky temporarily behind was the decision to grow tobacco for smoking, chewing and to smell. Indiana chose plants you can eat, not eat you. But it certainly gets boring driving through 200 miles of soybeans, whereas Kentucky’s landscape includes everything from bluegrass to refrigerators.

Another distinction is that Hoosiers are generally serious, conservative and straight-laced. Kentuckians have a good time all the time, and realize that if you mix nicotine and bourbon with a horserace, it can’t get any better. Not to be outdone in the entertainment category, every water way in Indiana is now equipped with a Las Vegas riverboat. Apparently, legislators felt that gambling on water is less sinful than on land. It makes no difference to a Kentuckian, who can sin equally on land, water or up in the air.

These differences give distinct flavor and character to our wonderful land. I love both places. My roots are in the hills, but I’m a proud Hoosier now. Although Kentucky is the birthplace of the good ol’ boy, which I’ve always strived to be, both states have an abundance of good old Americans, which takes precedence over all other loyalties.



Terry Cummins is a New Albany resident and a retired educator from the New Albany-Floyd County Consolidated School Corp. His column appears Sundays. He can be reached at TLCTLC@aol.com.

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