Keith Stewart’s remarkable adventures usually occur near his hometown of Hyden in the hills of southeastern Kentucky, although he can be found aimlessly wandering the streets of nearby Lexington at any given moment. Before he shed his corporate casing, he worked as a certified public accountant for a multi-national company. He now enjoys less stressful work with much less pay, and blogs and writes and stuff. Oh, and he is as happy as a clam.
Oh, the injustice! Oh, the horror! Imagine having your very own story stolen from you. There you are minding your own business and muddling through this mad, crazy world, when you decide to take a break from all the chaos and go see a movie. You know, escape from reality for a couple of hours.
Well, lo and behold, instead of being entertained and amused, you witness your very own life playing out right there on the big screen! That is the claim of one Michael Alan Rubin. Mr. Rubin has filed a lawsuit claiming the movie The Hangover Part 2 ripped off his life story. He claims the film stole its story from the screenplay he wrote chronicling his mishaps in Asia.
I am pretty sure that The Hangover Part 2 stole its story from The Hangover Part One. Anyone who has seen it can tell you that it is the exact same movie only in a different location. But if this dude can file an actual lawsuit claiming a movie plot was his own life story, then I am making an appointment to see my attorney tomorrow. I think I have some very solid cases, and I smell a big, fat settlement coming my way.
For one, the movie The Jerk took a very personal moment, the first time I saw my name published, and shared it with the world:
If that isn't bad enough, how about the personal moments I spend with my family? The movie Uncle Buck obviously has my car wiretapped to catch all the conversations I have with my two nieces and my nephew:
Then, to add insult to injury, even my relaxation time with friends has been ripped from my life and splashed all over the silver screen by the movie Steel Magnolias:
And, it isn't just me. I am taking my mother with me tomorrow to the lawyer's office. I think she has a case as well. Anyone who knows her at all would tell you this is certainly her disguised as a character in the movie Fried Green Tomatoes:
If all of the above isn't humiliating enough, I also have to live with the knowledge that my entire family has been followed, recorded, reviewed, and imitated. This may qualify as a class-action lawsuit. The movie Sordid Lives is obviously based on my very own family:
All I can say is if Mr. Michael Alan Rubin thinks his life story is movie-worthy, he ain't met me yet.
2011 was the 50th anniversary of Hyden’s Mary Breckinridge Festival.For half a century, the proud residents of Leslie County have come together the first weekend in October to celebrate the life and legacy of Mary Breckinridge, a remarkable visionary to whom many in this county literally owe their lives.
Mary Breckinridge came to Leslie County in 1925 with intentions of helping some of the most underserved and needy Americans.She developed a system to bring quality healthcare to the families of Leslie County at a time when Leslie was one of the most remote, unreachable places in the entire United States.Having neither hospitals nor doctors to work with was not a deterrent to Ms. Breckinridge.On horseback, she traveled up and down every holler in this county, and probably some of the neighboring ones, providing our families with professional medical care, treating them with dignity and respect.
Ms. Breckinridge was the first person to use the concept of nurse-midwifery in the United States, making Hyden, KY, the nation’s birthplace for this field of healthcare.She founded the Frontier Nursing Service which recently has morphed into Frontier Nursing University, the largest and foremost midwifery educational facility in the United States.
Perhaps more impressive than anything, though, are the thousands and thousands of FNS babies that are walking among us in Leslie County.They are our preachers, teachers, mechanics, lawyers, accountants, bankers, supermarket check-out clerks, librarians, and house cleaners.They are our neighbors, our friends, and our family.Everyone who lives in Leslie County knows at least one person who was born with the help of a nurse-midwife from the Frontier Nursing Service.My mother, along with all of her brothers and sisters, were brought into the world thanks FNS nurse-midwives.
(Statue of Mary Breckinridge in Hyden)
We deserve to be very proud of this legacy.The University in our county has produced nurse-midwives that are working not only throughout the United States, but all over the world.Most of the things people outside of our area hear about us are negative: drug problems, Mountain Dew mouth, poor and helpless people; but, Frontier Nursing University is educating professional nurse-midwives every semester, and those students are returning to their homes in every corner of our nation.I can only hope that FNU is also instilling in them the heritage and vision of Mary Breckinridge, and her love for the people of this county as well.
The reason I question this at all is the 2011 Mary Breckinridge Festival parade last Saturday.In every festival parade I can remember watching in downtown Hyden, and I have watched more than I care to share, a Frontier Nursing Service Courier (the FNS Courier program is another excellent program started by Ms. Breckinridge) led the parade walking with a riderless horse, in homage to the extraordinary Mary Breckinridge.This year there was no riderless horse, no courier, no tribute to Ms. Breckinridge at all.After the parade was over, I knew something was amiss, but could not quite put a finger on it.When I finally realized what it was, that Ms. Breckinridge had not been honored at all, I was saddened and disappointed.
We all know the turmoil FNS and Mary Breckinridge Hospital has been through in the past year.The struggle, resulting in the formation of Frontier Nursing University and the ARH system purchasing the hospital has been emotional and hurtful to many.For years, the Mary Breckinridge Hospital was FNS’ public persona to the people of Leslie County.Now that it no longer belongs to them, my hope is that they will find a new way to connect with the people who they have served, helped, and nurtured for nearly a hundred years.
Change can be difficult, but great things can result from it.One of Ms. Breckinridge’s strongest beliefs was that she must involve the local community in order to be successful. She stated many times her intention was to work through the community, not for the community.As Frontier Nursing University begins its new life without Mary Breckinridge Hospital, I hope its leaders echo its remarkable founder’s sentiment.I hope they remain involved in our community.We desperately need them to do so.
I hope that the riderless horse was just something that was accidently missed or fell through the cracks this year, and not a harbinger of more neglect of heritage and tradition to come.Mary Breckinridge, and our county, deserves more respect than that.
Since today is National Coming Out Day, I thought I would share you this picture, taken circa 1973. The man on the right is Big Daddy Stewart and the girl on the left, afraid to look at the camera, is Sis.
The very suave young man in the middle wearing a dark brown shirt and red pants with pockets that match said shirt is me. Oh yeah, I AM CARRYING A PURSE. Of course, Hot Wheels, Batman, and a ball of some sort could be found inside the purse, as well as Mom's pink Avon hairbrush that I used for my microphone when pretending to be Cher.
Late last summer, I amused myself by rewriting Lady Gaga's song, "Telephone," to illustrate my frustration at never having a cell phone signal when I am in my hometown of Hyden. I would like to tell you this update is to explain that we now get kick ass service here in the Big City, but that would be a lie. Not much has changed in a year on that front.
What has changed, however, is that I finally found a sucker, er, I mean a friend, who was willing to actually sing the song for me. That's right, lovelies, I now have a recording of my song. In order to for her sing it, I had to agree to throw my voice in for some speaking parts. I actually tried to sing it, thinking I could do Beyonce's part, but she edited all that out. I can't imagine why.
Anyway, without further ado, I give you the song, Ain't Got No Telephone. First, the lyrics (so you can sing along), then the actual song is below.
The Lyrics
Hello, hello, baby you called? I can’t hear a thing,
I have got no service here in Hyden you see, you see,
Wha-wha-what did you say, huh? You’re breaking up on me,
Sorry, I wish I could hear you, I’m bored and lonely.
B-bored and lonely,
B-bored and lonely,
Sorry, I cannot hear you
‘Cause I am bored and lonely.
You know how addicted I am to my phone, eh?
And I cannot text or call for days and days and days,
How was I to know Hyden ain’t served by ATT,
And now I can’t call and tell anybody.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
The way I’m blowin’ up my phone,
Won’t make no signal faster,
Won’t make no tower faster,
Won’t give me 3G faster.
I should’ve gone with Appalach Cell,
‘Cause this is a disaster,
Callin’ like a collector,
Sorry, I cannot answer.
Not that I don’t like it here, I just live in Lex-y,
And I am sick and tired of my phone not r-r-inging,
Sometimes I wish that I lived in Grand Central Station,
‘Cause I would not miss a single text or conversation.
Text or conversation,
Text or conversation,
Cause I would not miss a single
Text or conversation.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
(What do you mean the picture doesn't look real?!)
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
My telephone, m-m-my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map,
And I ain’t got no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
My telephone, m-m-my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map,
And I ain’t got no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
We’re sorry the number you have reached is not in service at this time,
Please check the number,
Or try your call again.
As some of you may know, I often contribute to a weekly radio show called Keep Hearing Voices, Saturdays at noon, on Crescent Hill Radio. Crescent Hill Radio is a non-profit, community based radio station in Louisville, Kentucky. You can listen to it at www.crescenthillradio.com.
The creator and producer of the Keep Hearing Voices show decided to take off the month of September and run repeats of the show. She needed a break from the constant hassle of another non-paying, thankless job. She already has one of those being the mother of twins, so I suppose stopping the radio show for a month was easier than running away from home.
(Oh yes, men can be divas.)
Being the diva of her show, I had to make life hard on her for pulling the plug on my stardom for an entire month. This week was my return to the radio for a new show, and it went so splendidly, I decided to share with you my segment on here. I know you are excited, but settle down!
First is the printed copy, then you can click the link and listen to the show in all its glory. And before you say anything, let me just cut you off right here and say, "You're welcome!"
I began my blog, A Strong Man’s Cup of Tea, well over a year ago. I knew I wanted to write SOMETHING, I just didn’t know what. A blog seemed to be a good way to get in some practice and see if this entire “writing thing” was for me. My quandary was what type of blog should I write? There are a zillion blogs out there, covering every subject from animals to zoology (wait, is that the same subject?).
(Write about what you know...ME)
I knew that MY blog would need to deal with subject matter that would be worthy of my time, effort, talent, and, let’s face it, my enormous potential fan base. What could be that important , that entertaining, that educational? After weighing all the options, it really came down one to obvious choice for the subject matter: ME. I would write a blog about myself, sharing my stories and experiences with the world, and in so doing, garner an enormous group of sophisticated fans all hungry for more Keith-isms.
(The reaction I get around town.)
I completely threw myself into A Strong Man’s Cup of Tea and wrote about many, many things that happened to me. Now, to say it was an overnight success would not be accurate. It did take many months for me to write stories and posts and tidbits. But it was a success nonetheless. I began to be known around town as ” the man you shouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of because he will write about it.” Not real catchy, but I will take it.
After the blog’s success, I received an interesting phone call from friend, Marie Direction, telling me she was putting together a new radio show called “Keep Hearing Voices” and would love if I would be a part of it.
(artist's rendition of that conversation)
Well, I knew the offers for things would start soon after I had the blog on solid footing, but I never DREAMED that non-profit community radio would come calling so fast! I told Marie Direction that I just didn’t know, I would have to think about it. That led to a little begging on her part, and she then explained her show was based on the concept that no one voice was any better than anyone else’s, but c’mon, she needed me to anchor the show. Those are her words, not mine. I told her I would sleep on it and let her know my decision the following day.
The next morning I had just finished my daily inspection of my sideburns, making sure the right one, which grows freakishly faster than the left one, was not obscenely longer than its mate, and was beginning to floss my teeth when I thought, “Oh Hell, I'll do it!”
(Marie gives good.)
I called Marie and told her the good news. She was so relieved and couldn’t wait to to get started! I then said , “But, Marie Direction, whatever shall I TALK about?” Marie replied with words I still live by to this day. She said, “Darlin’, you talk about what made you famous. Talk about yourself.” I took her advice and never looked back.
(my star was rising)
I told stories on the radio of my adventures ripping down gas pumps at gas stations, having mini strokes trying to participate in Bikram Yoga class, and ranted about things that got on my nerves. My stock quickly rose in the non-profit community radio scene. I was the star among stars in the Keep Hearing Voices stable. Even that ol’ Justus Redfern and Hepatica Willowwhistle couldn’t touch me. The reactions from my listeners was very gratifying, especially when people posted more accolades on my Facebook wall than on the Glass Woman's or even Marie Direction's.
Life was sweet milk, and I was drinking my fill of it.
A post on Marie Direction’s wall stating that the Keep Hearing Voices radio show would not air new shows for an entire month. A MONTH. I was shocked. Stunned. I had received no notice, no severance pay, no nothing. NOTHING. Friends, I have been fired from many jobs, and have never been treated so rudely or coldly. It cut like a knife.
(Bette Davis, not Andy Davis)
What would my captive, potato chip eating audience do? How can they possibly survive a whole month without my clever radio antics? More importantly, what would I do? How would I survive without the love and support of my fans, my public, my lovelies? It didn’t help matters that as I threw myself onto my chaise lounge, defenseless and wounded, Andy took one look at my antics and did his imitation of Bette Davis in the movie All About Eve, taking a drag of his cigarette and snapping the words, “Poor Eve,” in my face. "Et tu, Andy," is all I could say, "Et tu, Mother F@(#&r?"
(I don't really wear high heals)
My September of shame was horrid. I was shunned by the world. I pulled myself together enough to get off my chaise every Saturday at noon to see if, perhaps, anyone was tuning in to our re-runs. Maybe someone will hear again my story of breaking the church window during a funeral or the time I got my arm stuck in the toilet in the gym bathroom. Someone will hear my brilliance and post something on my Facebook wall.
I listened to them all, and I gotta say it, my segments were dazzling. I laughed, shook my head, and thought “this will all work out OK.” I kept my eye on my Facebook wall, waiting for the posts to come. Nothing. I checked Marie Direction’s wall. Nada. Nothing from the Glass Woman, Justus, or even Hepatica, who I felt I was mentoring to be a radio star in her own right.
Nothing from those singers Jenrose or Roberta. Nothing nothing nothing.
But as I headed back to the chaise lounge, it hit me. I had been cut off before, and I had survived. I went from being a very popular app-man to an isolated hermit in one fell swoop when I moved from Lexington to Hyden. I went from having 3G cell service to no service at all, but I was only isolated because I had no signal. No one COULD get to me. It wasn’t me at all! It was them! So, THIS must be explanation for no one giving me any love in September. They have all moved away, somewhere they don't have high speed internet, and either can't listen to the archive reruns, or else HAVE listened all along, but are unable to connect to Facebook to congratulate me on being so hilarious and talented.
(Knowledge is power.)
I understood completely now. Thank the Lord it was them and not me, all along. What a relief!
So with that understanding that you were just not able to get to me last month, I humbly and sincerely say to you, my captive fans, “I accept your apology, and, you are forgiven.”
Now, here is the link to the radio version. Please take a listen!
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