Ellen Brody:I just want to know one thing – when do I get to become an islander?
Mrs. Taft:Ellen, never, never! You’re not born here, you’re not an islander, that’s it.

— Jaws

I may be in Louisville, but I am not of Louisville.  I guess you can say that about most places if you’re not born and raised there.  It doesn’t matter how I learn to speak, or how I get involved with local issues, I’m not a native, and there are still a lot of places where that counts more than most things.

Even after almost a decade and a half here, I stick out like a sore thumb sometimes.  I don’t care about college basketball, nor do I care about football games played between two Catholic high schools.  I think Kentucky Hot Brown sandwiches are disgusting, although cheese grits have been a favorite of mine since I first lived in the South.  I don’t remember where the Sears used to be, nor do I follow directions based on where Bacon’s used to be.  I don’t get excited over horse racing every spring, and once you’ve watched Warthogs, Abram’s, Spectre, and a bunch of other cool stuff send stuff downrange, Thunder Over Louisville isn’t that big a deal.

But this is a good place to live, and to raise kids.  I can be at Knob Creek on Saturday morning, have lunch downtown, then go to a show out in the suburbs without breaking a sweat.  I know my neighbors, and they know me.  That alone is worth the price of admission.