"Y’all Gotta Act Right," A Love Letter to Keeneland and Kentucky

Closing the Fall Meet at Keeneland

As another fall meet wraps up at Keeneland, I got lucky. I spent the day with one of my oldest college friends, her daughter, and her daughter’s friend. Watching those girls experience it reminded me why this place still feels like home.

I’ve been going to the races my whole life. Churchill was my Grandfather's favorite, Keeneland was my Grandmother's. Yesterday was packed to the rails, plenty of Tennessee folks in fascinators and Derby hats. Bless ’em, but that’s not the Keeneland vibe. Keeneland’s always been “money talks, wealth whispers.” Green-coated volunteers, quiet confidence, riding boots, and a coat-and-tie where the white tablecloths live.

One of the girls asked why there were so many rules. I told her they aren’t rules, they’re standards. We love company, but y’all gotta act right.

By the end of the day, they were cheering at the rail, placing their two-dollar bets, and grinning like seasoned pros.

After the races, we hit the hot bar at Whole Foods (if you know, you know) and talked about high school and college. They wanted stories and as a Gen X’er, mine aren’t on the internet. You have to buy me a bourbon and let me warm up before the tales start flowing.

I told them about the parties at my grandparents’ house because there was little to no parental supervision with them running the hotel. At basketball games, the cheerleaders would spell it out: “Gimme a G! Where’s the party at? Gilbert’s!” Embarrassing? Absolutely. But also kind of nice to be known.

Before I could even make it home, there’d be twelve cars in the driveway, a bottle of gut-rot liquor getting mixed with Sprite or Hawaiian Punch just to make it drinkable. There were fights, names carved into my closet, holes I covered with artwork, doorknobs I swapped out before my parents noticed, and carpet still marked from when someone handed an old friend bleach instead of water. To this day, how we all made it out alive still surprises me.

But back then, you could act a fool and get away with it. No ring cameras, no Life360, just promises you’d call home from your friend’s landline if anyone checked in.

Then came Bowling Green, the town that slowed me down just enough to figure life out. There’s something about this corner of Kentucky that works hard but doesn’t holler about it. Folks here are humble, steady, and sharp as a tack. The kind who’ll bring you soup when you’re sick, show up to help before you ask, and still whip you in church-league softball.

I fell in with people who traded bars for bonfires, and somewhere between late-night study sessions and sand volleyball games, I became the first college graduate in my family. Bowling Green gave me roots, rhythm, and a sense of calm I didn’t know I needed.

So here’s what Keeneland reminded me: the company you keep shapes the life you build. And sometimes, the “wild” ones just need a little guidance, a good laugh, and a soft place to land.

—Laura

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