A 4.5 hours drive from me is a little known, bigly known place called Louisville, Kentucky. I pronounced it Luis-ville like a Kentuckian non-native. Abraham Lincoln was probably smirking at me from above.
My team at Pleasureville schooled me while I protested: "It's Low-ul-ville. You're outing yourself so hard right now, Knock." The girls, Lexi and Tabby, commented how the drive must have been really long. Nick hoped the hotel he booked me was up to my standards. I only hoped that I remembered enough of the teller line to be an actual team member.
The moment I walked in and introduced myself to everyone and saw the cozy way our Pleasureville branch looked, I almost couldn't believe there would be a high turn over rate at all. I liked our team already. Tabby, "the cat", I called her. She makes fun of the fact that I don't know why she would go to the creek all the time or why the country folks out here go mudding. "Why do you want to slap mud on yourselves??"
And I make fun of her for not knowing that open mics were a thing. ;( My city-folk thing and her country-road twang.
Lexi knows just about everything, which is why customers call in looking for her. She knows every customer so that I don't have to make someone mad if I ask for their ID. "I have never been ID-ed for the past 30 years, missy!" some of the customers would say. I wouldn't tremble out of fear or cry out of fear, because...
I have Shanara, a truly clever woman. Her first day was Monday this week and already she taught me some new tricks. She taught me to say, "Do you know me sir? Well you don't. And I don't know you either. So I'm going to need some ID to know you for this transaction and we should be good from here. Pronto?"
Shanara, who is literally a movie character out of Top Gun. Damn. SHE FLIES FUCKING PLANES. And whenever she hiccups, I'm the first to bless her. It feels good out here man.
And then there's Nick. Who feels like a girl dad but is actually a boy dad. He's the only male presence in two of the branches he oversees and is a literal angel. He drives a car that looks like it's out of a James Bond movie.
So if you asked me, how I feel being back on the teller line, then I'll have to be honest and say it actually feels really nice to be back.
I've been in back end for a couple weeks now, where I was invited for a second round of Project Management. Then I had a conversation with our Risk team over lunch. A new project only shortly arriving from commercial lending's senior vice president, whom asked for my name specifically. Even Saundra, who's usually happy about everything, expressed full surprise. "Maloney wants you on her team. Did you talk to her or something?"
I actually did not. I have an inkling a commercial banker I met last year or my stint on a bigger project put my name out there just enough for it to be caught in the winds. It helps too, that I'm kinda a cutie patootie. Or, that I really like working with others. I feel like it shows. ^-^ I'm a goodie goodie dang it.
All of that plus a raving Annual review from Saundra herself. I sat there in her office while she shared the perfectly happy news that in the very same week, two different team leads reached out to her, sharing how much they loved me in their rotation. <3
Your girl Ngoc has stolen a heart or two. ;)
I surprised myself with how much I liked our Collections team. Surprised myself with how I keep falling in love, getting attached, to all the people in our footprint: from Buckhannon, West Virginia to Pleasureville, Kentucky. I have truly traveled so much. Gosh, the miles on my Bean. My much reliable bean. And it would feel like taking a first sip of warm soy milk whenever I'm collecting their stories, seeking a great understanding of what's important to each of them and trying to see the little squiggly map of their life while sharing the squiggly map of my life, before I dive into anything specific.
This journey to understand has brought me so far. I've become an encyclopedia of great attachment to the stories I now have.
People want to be remembered. No matter how briefly I see them that Friday, or how I might only spend one day with you before I must move on, I want to remember you. I truly do.
Corporate life in small towns or perhaps life in small towns, in 2025, and thank god it's 2025, because that small life do be different minus 50 years from today. Just, the people out here are so, so honest. Above all else, they're so earnest. They don't demand life to bring them what they want. They are willing to start from scratch, no matter where they are in life. A certain Mr. Pingley, and yes, he's my first and probably last Pingley I'll ever meet, he was more than ready to start on the teller line after being 20 years a high paid manager at Lowe's, simply because he wanted more flexibility to be with his family. No job was too small for him. And he's only an example of that earnestness and devotion to family.
The people out here are so humble about their capabilities. They all add a dash of a smile at the end of their sentences, at almost every cash register and point of sale I make. I was called sweetie, darling, and honey back-to-back by a young girl at Lowe's when I was fumbling to find where a certain nail might be. Not only was I embarrassed that I truly had learned so little being my father's daughter, but 15 minutes had passed in the same aisle before I asked for help. I'm stubborn when I'm tired.
And the little miss ma'am so happily showed me where I needed to be. I left in a literal minute. "Good bye, sweetie."
And these are only glimpses of Ohio.
Because folks, I'm in Kentucky right now. I'm in Louisville. I'm only an hour away and North from Abraham Lincoln's birthplace, Hodgenville. Louisville. A city that memorializes an apartment that Thomas Edison resided in for only a year. You silly asses. A city with truly the most beautiful view of itself at Waterfront Park. That vast river view and the way the river looks like a million pieces of shape shifting glass. I didn't get to see my own reflection in it, but at night, that same river reflects the light show that the great bridge plays.
On a Monday evening, straight after a wonderful first day of teller line work, I put on my favorite "lilac short skirt. The kind that fits me like skin," quoting the great Taylor Swift. Because yes, I wore the exact skirt there hehe. My little black bag. I went to The Bep, my favorite boba chain in Houston. Yes, I was as surprised as you realizing they had one up here too. Louisville of all places. Sorry for joking about you too much at work. :(
With my strawberry matcha cream in hand and up to the moment when a bug flew right through my hair and made me drop that delicious cup, I had the most beautiful walk.
You know how when you look at something so beautiful, you could tell that you'd miss it later? You don't know when you'll miss it, but you know you certainly will. So you stand still and capture it best you can from as many angles as you can. Like the way Kentucky and Illinois tried to claim Abraham Lincoln, I tried to claim this great American river and these great American bridges for my own.
The size. The smallness of me. I felt my own small bean-ery.
I felt all my foolery. Up to that moment. How silly I was, how dare I, to ever make fun of such a city when Houston could never.
Houston, gosh, I love Houston. But we could never do what Louisville was doing to me as Monday evening turned into Monday night and I was still my lone little lady self, in my little skirt, little hair, little purse.
I was alone, yes. Well, come on, I'm out here. I'm always alone, silly people.
But I really didn't feel that way. Because to be honest... and I am pretty honest on this blog.
My main goal, besides coming out here to help best I can, was to visit Abraham Lincoln's birthplace. It's such an important memorialized place that even the National Park Service protects it. And so for the 2.5 hours of the 5 hour drive to, not the hotel, but to his birth town, I listened to all things Abraham Lincoln.
And my god, Abraham is my favorite. I said it. He's one of the good ones.
I will write a separate episode detailing my knowledge bits about Abe. You all will have to supply any missing knowledge hehe. BUT OH MY GOSH, I AM GUSHING. ABE IS THE MOST WHOLESOME GOODEST BEAN. He's the guy you want to root for, regardless of time. There are, of course, white supremacist bits to his story but every other part. Every other part, is mostly good. :)
He was president during the great Civil War after all. How terrible and great that responsibility was, to do all that you can and protect what the founding fathers had created. It was a dark time for this country, and yet I love how there's so many accounts of his funny stories. The kind he'd tell to his cabinet members and make them laugh. Uplifting their spirits. The kind he'd tell to any and all who made the pilgrimage and visited the White House. He made time every day to at least see and hear from a group of guests what's important to them and share with them a silly story. He hardly left DC but stories about what kind of leader he was spread far and wide.
His voice wasn't deep. I always read that most famous Gettysburg Address, imagining a deep voice bellowing it out to the masses. But no, his voice was higher pitched and nasally. "NASALLY?!" Yes.
In fact, this specific combination helped amplify his volume. It was easier for folks to understand and hear him. Oh, Abe. And he must have also been the most depressed president in our U.S. history too. He lost two sons. His mother died when he was young. And his first love died when she was 22. He's just seen so much death. Some of his friends even had to hide sharp objects from him for fear he might do unto himself little or great pains.
The common theme between the 3 different podcast sources was how notable his empathy was.
People felt so understood in his presence. He had a keen eye for understanding and listening. Those were often his goals and so his leadership is unique in the amount of empathy he demonstrated. It was his great strength.
And of course, he's so good at so many things. He taught himself the law, y'all!! So of course he's already incredibly hardworking and talented, but he was also a writer. A true writer.
I can't imagine anyone else touching the Gettysburg Address but he, himself. Today, our politics are ruled by the clean cut words of every voice in the room, but back then, Abe's words are still memorialized today because they were solely his, representing the fullness of his thoughts and the thoughts of the Union. He wrote his own. And what was so beautiful about his writing was he wrote every word with the intention of speaking them aloud. Writing for speaking. That's why those words flow so beautifully.
So unforgettably. He writes words like music. He'd cut up his speeches into parts and re-arrange as necessary, so meticulous, so that the flow could improve. Of course he did.
So for all these samples of his great qualities, I truly had to pay homage to the one and only. And what coincidence it was to be back in Kentucky and do a true Abraham Lincolnian thing.
Lincolnian is a word. Oh my god. It's not red-highlighted or anything. DAMN. <3
So I drove straight to Hodgenville where the tall grass is tipped with tiny yellow flowers as far as the eye can see, and rising in the distance are grand hills that are full of such lush and healthy green trees. So lushy it's almost fluffy.
It reminded me of my mother's home village in Viet Nam, Buon Ma Thuot. The way the grass in the rice paddies would sway gently in the breeze against the mountains. Abe grew up in such a beautiful place, surrounded by this much life and so many grass flowers. We're not too different in where we come from, you and I, Mr. President.
I spoke to him in the car you know, as my car winded through the most beautiful curves for miles and miles on end. I rolled my windows down and let my car flood with the scent of that green world. It was heavenly, this perfumed flowery grass-y hill-y scent. Of a world long forgotten in places like Houston or DC or Boston.
Kentucky is gorgeous. Breathtaking in its land and greenery. No wonder my favorite sweet and salty popcorn grew here. If I was a corn, I would want to grow here too. :)
So with the window down, I spoke to Lincoln. Perhaps that's an understatement. After telling Ivanna what I was saying to him, she verified that I must have been praying to him instead. And I think she's right.
I think I was praying to Lincoln. I won't tell you the words of my one-sided exchange, but I will say that I hoped to be as good as he was. To live with that much goodness and kindness as he did. And I don't need money or fame. I just need to know that my life had a positive impact in some way small or medium. I just want to promise that, even to you, dear Reader. I hoped Abe could hear me. I promised him I am available 24/7 for any guidance he might have for my journey. And of course, I introduced myself in my full Vietnamese glory in case he ever spoke to the wrong Ngoc, so I said, "I am Nguyen Khoa DieuNgoc, from Houston, TX. Now here in Marietta, OH. Hello, Mr. President."
It felt cathartic. It felt true. Like the life I want to live has been lived before by many and I have so many great examples to remember with. Because that's what I like to do, remember?
I want to remember.
Did I tell you about the cows yet?! Because there have been so many cows on my drives to and from work out here. Imagine a bunch of big cows and then smaller cows, medium sized cows, and then teenage cows and then smaller cows, and then baby cows. Imagine how all of them might all look in a painting. Each doing its own thing or playing around in small groups.
Imagine they're all the same color. Black. Or white. Or brown.
And that's how they're kept out here in such vast, vast land, fenced next to a thin stream or creek. Fenced in with some fat trees. Fenced in with each other. Gosh, I really slow my Bean down to the 10s when I see them, to everyone else's dismay.
I'm crazy for cows. <3
And apparently, I'm crazy about Lincoln too haha.
But back to Monday night, because there I was at the Waterfront Park. And when you've traveled as much as I have, you get pretty good at identifying souls that feel familiar to yours. And I did find such a soul. We stood and talked for 20 minutes after I complimented her dress.
Like me, she stood and stared at the river as if to feel all of it in a single breath in, and another breath out. It's when you know your stay isn't long that you cherish it more, and that's how I knew she was traveling through Louisville like me.
I learned a lot about a new person Monday night. I loved making her laugh about dying from amoebas first before actually drowning if I were to jump into the river. And dang, that was a pretty dark joke. Dang, Ngoc. Reel it in, please. Soon enough I learned that she was a military student advisor to a university and that she hopes to move to Florida one day. That she might move to Houston as a serious second option.
And I tell her what I normally tell everyone about Houston.
"First is, terrible road rage and traffic and heat. Yes. Hot as hell. I kid you not. And second, there's hardly any such beautiful third spaces like view before us. There's hardly any. But, it's a nice place to be." We smiled and exchanged Instagrams and maybe I'll see her again one day.
I normally do see people again, because I want to remember all of them.
The squiggly map of everyone's lives. What matters to them. What makes them so so happy. I want to them all, because that's simply who I am.
Along this long journey of being at the nail salon to being here at Peoples Bank to living my little life, it seems I'll always want to know what your little map looks like. The bridge lit up different light patterns before me, reflecting on the black glass river. I don't want to simply reflect on people's stories. I hope to shine my own light too, for others to see. And I feel like I'm starting to. And dear future daughter, if you're reading this, it feels really good to walk on a bridge alone at night. I swear.
Of course, in a safe area! But tonight, your mum, being me, felt super whole as she talked to people alive or dead, about her dreams. Where she's been. And where she will be. And planned those next steps on that long walk across that bridge, just like any other night.
Maybe you noticed, but this is the gigantic, not-so-gigantic episode 100.
It's 10:45 PM on a Tuesday night. I never foresaw it would be about Abe Lincoln or that it would be written in the quiet of a Marriot hotel suite.
I didn't foresee either that Monday night would be a waning crescent moon. But tonight is a new moon, did you know? The new moon is the most powerful moon to me. Only new things can grow from here. If I want to make the most of it, I do it in the here and the now.
And I will. I certainly will.
But just, wow I've come so far in this blog. This blog has meant so much to me. In the way that it's helped me write and sort through my feelings, and usually the tough feelings, but the way it's helped me document some of the happiest memories of my life, or the most neutral ones, or saddest. At 24 years old, I finally reach episode 100. I was 16 when I published my first real episode.
I always thought episode 100 would be so grand and loud and maybe a little obnoxious.
But this episode 100 felt perfect. It felt like a long walk across the river. Calm, peaceful. Beautiful.
Episode 100 has been so beautiful.
And always, silly. :D
I'm so glad I finally made it!! :D To episode 200 some day, here we go! Oh my gahahahahah.
