A Long-ago Streaking Saga and the Storybook City of Versailles Ky

The Streaker story is like taking a hilarious waltz down memory lane—one we can all relate to, whether we were spectators, participants, or just those who wished they’d been brave enough to join in.

As tales like the “Woodford High Streakers” are retold, they seem to sprout embellishments like weeds in a neglected garden, each retelling adding a little more drama and intrigue. One of our more creative classmates from the class of ‘74 even dubbed the spectacle “The Running of the Studs,” giving the whole affair a flair that would make Hemingway proud. Naturally, the prudish among us—and those who’ve appointed themselves guardians of decency—might turn away in horror. But as this story slowly evolves into myth, it gently nudges us to take a step back and ponder the significance of it all.

These tales do not just fade into the background; they blossom into full-blown myths, reflecting our society’s values, neuroses, and, let’s face it, our collective oddball tendencies. As passed down, they often become more inflated than a politician's promises during an election year. Sure, the original context might vanish faster than a tray of doughnuts at a Weight Watcher’s meeting, but the myth hangs around, often becoming more memorable than the event itself. Myths, after all, aren’t just stories—they’re the bedrock of our beliefs, the glue that holds together our chaotic, mundane world, and the spice that makes it a little less bland.

Even as the original facts fade into obscurity, the myths endure, often eclipsing the events from which they sprang. They add a splash of color to our lives with their irresistible charm and timeless innocence, offering us a delightful lens through which we can view our past and present—preferably with a nod and a wink.

Still, what we so courageously shared in those days, we could never share now. Not because we’ve grown older and wiser or even more prudish but because we’ve grown so much in stature, particularly around the waist.

The streaker story is just one of many legendary tales from Woodford High, boasting remarkable athletes, triumphant teams, and students who could outshine the sun itself. Versailles, that charming storybook city, is famous for its splendid thoroughbred farms and the world’s finest bourbons and racehorses, making it the envy of anyone who’s ever had a taste or a ride. The fertile limestone-rich soil of central Kentucky, which gives the Bluegrass State its name, is not just a foundation for the finest racehorses and bourbon but a key element in shaping Kentucky's rich culture.

I take immense pride in my Woodford County roots, fondly remembering the friends and fellow students I met there. My time in this enchanting place wasn’t just a chapter; it was the beginning of the long journey I’ve been on ever since.

Yearling races in the morning at Stonestreet Farms, Lexington, Kentucky.