kentuckykernel
LITERARY EDITION






on saturdays we are off to the garden center. i try to help him make a list, get in and out of the busy store, but he prefers to roam the aisles. the bed of his truck is always full of soil. his arms and mine carry plants growing beautifully in tiny boxes. a trip just isn’t complete unless he wishes for the return of fayette seed and its bulk bags.
every night after supper he is cleaning up the garden, building raised beds, deciding what goes where and when. he asks if i want anything special. i recall the grilled sweetness of zucchini and the satisfying crunch of a radish, but really it’s all up to him. the neighbors wonder what he’s up to and so do i. it won’t be long until our house is full of God’s bounty. “the tomato guy” will be out again, passing giant bags of vegetables ‘cross the fences and ‘round the room. and i’ll still be with him then, singing and praying and pointing out everyone’s obvious beauty when we meet them on our way.
Abbey Cutrer, editor-in-chief editor@kykernel.com
Casey Sebastiano, managing editor managinged@kykernel.com
Matthew Mueller, photo editor photo@kykernel.com
Christian Kantosky, assistant photo editor
Kennedy Parker, copy and features editor features@kykernel.com
Laney Harris, copy editor
Isabella Sepahban, news editor news@kykernel.com
Aidan Dillard-Hijikata, opinions editor opinions@kykernel.com
Cole Parke, sports editor sports@kykernel.com
Jonathon Bruner, assistant sports editor
Akhila Nadimpalli, designer
Kaci McCarthy, social media & newsletter manager
Giana Gallo, broadcast & podcast manager
KENTUCKY KERNEL OFFICE
9 Blazer Dining University of Kentucky Lexington, KY 40506
On the front cover: ARTWORK BY
©APRIL 21, 2025 KERNEL PRESS, INC.
Within some forty days of heartened avowal, I chanced upon a rationale in dreams that made my queries seem but meager attenuations of the highest scope.
I cast a glance in the direction of the Maker who turned beneath an ancient apple tree, inspecting as he did its rotten fruit. “What brings you here after the season’s end?”
he asked. I hesitated long. “The light,” I answered. “I came to see its frail expiring.” This made no sense to him. He laughed, then said: “I see, but what about the dark? It too
offers an appeal.” I thought about the stars, the moon, and planets bathed in red— like apples in their relentless orbit. A comet jostled in my mind with the sun. “The dark is necessary, if unkind,” I uttered.
I knew not what I aimed to prove. “At least, that’s what I’ve gleaned from years of silent study.” “Perhaps you’re right,” the Maker admitted, tossing
an apple at my feet. It glistened gold and seemed to glow. “But then again the lines can be unclear. There is more to know than what a day or dream can tell.” I stooped and picked
up the apple from the ground. It was truly gold and gave me fright as I stared at its burning core. “What makes this so?” I ventured, but the Maker had vanished, leaving me perplexed. I chanced a bite
of the delectable fruit. Its tartness ruled over all. Soon my mouth began to tingle.
I shivered as I altered form, turning gold.
What hope I had I could not say, but knew
I’d never be the same. Then came the magical coup de grace—I could fly. I leaped into the air and vanished like the Maker, upon the wings I’d grown, declaiming poetry to all around.
Are you Einstein or an elephant? — Albert, a philosopher
“I find your explanations unsatisfactory,” is what I said to the man’s face, although I knew he’d been correct manifold times, regarding both the spatial limitations of our rendezvous
and the austere discourse I proffered to counter his idealistic, deadpan manner of speaking. In a crystal glass, I squeezed a lime, poured gin, and sipped, incapable of discerning truth
from fiction. I found his hairstyle incredible— a kind of Dylanesque homage, or replica of a crime novel heroine’s coiffure. Yet in his own view
his appearance was a nonissue. He’d awoken from bed at twelve, applied lavender pomade and left—minding his arduous routine, wending toward work, fuming at calculations of underlings, threading his own believable plot, arc of the sun and nine stars across a blank canvas, attuned
to the distortive effects of intense gravity. His leaden hands at his side, he marched through blind alleys of history and emerged, out of the blue
with likely postulations, equations, credible not only to philosophers but also socialites, dazzling ministers time and time again with logical proofs, which I had doubted. In my stead, experts confirmed the veracity of his reports. Fine dinners were arranged in his honor, although he never knew— so removed from convention had he become. Fed up with exposure, he retreated into Plato’s cave, miming his frustration with his hands, claiming he was through
to the other side of enlightenment. He was read with excitement in Moscow and Memphis, kindly expectation in the suburbs, and respectful perplexity in towns, primed
as they were to eschew any prior or future difficulty. Thus, he pled with his farrago of supporters, preferring anonymity, proffering lines such as: “No scientist desires notoriety.” But even the chiming
clock betrayed its indisputable relativity, and I was left with mute dread at the prospect of being incorrect. Whether I agreed, or tried to disappear, he’d surely won. And the general climate was on his side. “My friend, you are akin to a mime,” I said, “incapable of response, yet apparently victorious.” To which he replied: “And you are like the grime
that multiplies in space, on the face of stars, in quasars, on formerly shiny dimes in pockets of optimistic children,” which again, instead of being comforting, nearly drove me to madness, until I realized he’d fled out of sheer embarrassment. “Perhaps we’ll both be celebrated in time,” I volunteered, “and the magical shoe will fit both of our misshapen feet.” “Yes,” he said, “perhaps we’ll be friends in time.” To which I lifted my glass, slimy and cold, and offered a toast, to this master, this genius, anew.
Hair is a fine piece of thread that grows from the skin of humans or mammals. Hair, long or short, light or dark, with years of memories as it grows from the roots until cut. She has always loved to brush her granddaughter’s hair. That is, since she could run a brush through those light ringlets. There were never many knots because that baby’s hair was fragile, like a gift from heaven. The little girl would skip into the living room, her hair bouncing with each spring. “Grandma, can you brush my hair?” She didn’t view it as a chore since chores were something you felt had to be done in order to receive satisfaction for your own work. Though she did receive satisfaction, it came from her pure bliss and yearn to bond with her granddaughter. A sense of oxytocin. The connection between their souls transferred through the grandmother to her granddaughter with each brush. The bodily movements from the brain’s neurons calling her to perform this act of gratitude and love. She wanted to brush those blonde rings of bouncing curls. Separating each strand with bristles and watching them wrap back together like they were familiar with each other. Like they could never be separated no matter how hard a force tried. Like a grandmother and a granddaughter. Curls that have been passed down through women of generations. If she were to have grabbed that book of photographs from her own childhood, one may have mistaken her for her granddaughter because of the strong genetic makeup passed through her bloodline. Afterall, they were not only bonded by soul but by blood.
The little girl grew up so fast. Her face, body, and beautiful glistening hair ever changing. At age 20, she would visit her grandmother from college and ask, “Grandma, do you like my hair?” It was a bit darker than
when she was 3, with less bounce and girlhood. This didn’t fool her though. Her grandmother could still see the light baby lovelocks glistening through her mature hair at the split ends she had yet to cut off. She ran her fingers through it as she would all those years ago. Of course she liked it. The beauty her granddaughter held reminded her of her vibrant, young prime. When she also felt the excitement coming home from college. When she too would visit her own grandmother to feel the love filled gaze between blue eyes. A gaze that held hundreds of years in just a few moments. Days turned to years and years turned to decades. They both got older.
Her granddaughter was 40 now, a baby girl of her own trotting next to her (with those same light curls.) She on the other hand, battling time in her body, was 90. She looked up through her piercing pale blue eyes, into similar blue but less lived eyes. “Baby, will you brush my hair?” She asked this of her granddaughter on the hospital bed with a croaky voice and tangled silver curls. “Of course Grandma.” She knew she didn’t have much time left and only craved her granddaughter’s love. Wrinkles for skin, lost mobility, and she couldn’t even brush her own hair.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Time had escaped her again. Just as it did when she was 3 and put down to take a nap. She woke up and was suddenly 25. Time worked in its wondrous ways. To her, some days felt longer than a lifetime and some days she swore did not even happen. Like that time when her 17 year old boyfriend broke her heart. Pain that she would always remember, but if you asked her about that specific day she would deny it. She would say she broke his heart. Only the bathroom floor and her-
self would know the truth. As well as that day she got into a crash at 35, baby in the backseat. Her head hit the wheel so hard it knocked her out. She would tell you she didn’t remember a thing, but moments before that car swerved into her she was singing You are my sunshine, My only sunshine to her baby. This she remembered but chose to cross out the whole day. She thought her granddaughter was the one growing up fast but truthfully it was her.
She opened her eyes. Everything moved in slow motion now. Her granddaughter around the bed for the brush, breathing, blinking, even the second hand on the clock was stuck in this funeral pace. Her granddaughter gently ran through the delicate coils, just as her grandmother had when she was a little girl. This was naturally how all things had to abide by time. Even hair has a start and an end. From its first growth at the scalp to its last frail silver strand. Hair holding memories of long lived days and short lived years. She felt at peace now, knowing the bond between her and her granddaughter was interconnected through genetic commonality a soul. Knowing her generation was coming to a close but at least one thing would remain the same. She glanced down at the smallest angel in the room now. Those same curls and same eyes. Yes, this little girl would one day be in her position, hopefully with as much wisdom and life in her past. Also looking at her great granddaughter with endearment and devotion. As her last breath wouldslip from her mouth with a wheeze in her chest. Eyes closing slowly, watching 4 blue eyes start to leak. Just as everything starts to go dark, time returns to a normal pace. And life goes on... for everyone else.
We’re not family! We don’t share a last name let alone the same blood.
We sing Happy Birthday, celebrate each other’s accomplishments and blow out the candles on a cake together,
We dress each other up, share clothes, give advice, but we just care for each other, we’re not family.
We travel together, from the Bayou to Barcelona to almost every Southern state you could name,
We’ve relied on each other, seen the worst of each other, cried to each other at 4 a.m., but we’re not family.
We pass around the same book over and over, sit on the couch for hours, decorate our spaces with moments and memories,
Truck stops and birth chart readings, wedding rings and furry friends, cups of tea and monster energy, unexpected love and immense heartbreak. All things we’ve experienced together, but we still are not family.
We don't live under the same roof, but somehow somehow we’ve found a home,
We let down our guard, embraced vulnerability and held each other up when we couldn’t hold ourselves
up anymore. We leaned on each other when all we could do was wait for things to get better. We’re not family right?
We’ve seen the big things, but we have really taken notice of the little, minute things that make us, us. These little details of individuality are what foster the late nights, last-minute dinners, supportive hands and echoing laughs over the last however long… it all is really a blur.
I guess it kind of sounds like we’re family, doesn't it? by Anonymous
photograph by Abbey Cutrer
Years ago – so the legend goes – a bitter Kernel editor stomped to the office upset, hurt and insulted. A prominent campus figure had unfairly lectured the young editor for an offense he did not commit. It was then that the young editor vowed revenge. From those feelings of hate, the Golden Forks you read today were born. As a testament to that young Kernelite, we take it upon ourselves to strike back with pleasure at those who have wronged the mighty “Fourth Estate.”
OK,OKthat'stotallyaLIE.Weareabunchofsarcasticcollegestudents who feel like venting their frustrations at the end of the year. It’s unfortunate that some of you must bear the brunt of that…oops (we’re not sorry). We will see you all on campus in August, but until then, if you're upset, feel free to email the editor-in-chief… But this is the last paper, so it won't get printed. We’ll read them from the beach though! Have a good summer!
- The Kernel
Kentucky football flew under the radar during the 2024 season for just how historic it was. With the noise of the expanded college football playoffs and plenty of other national headlines, it’s easy to see how lowly Kentucky might have been missed by many, but what Mark Stoops and his crew put together for this past season was truly special. Going into the season, there were talks that Kentucky had one of its most talented rosters ever after a disappointing 2023 campaign. With a former five-star quarterback in Brock Vandagriff and NFL prospects on the roster, the good ole’ Cats truly one upped a lackluster 7-6 2023 season by going… 4-8. Not only was
the season so bad across the board that Vandagriff literally retired from football, not only was it so bad that it actually hurt Deone Walker’s draft stock, not only was it so bad that UK was hit with a wave of decommitments after the season… there really isn’t a flip side to this. Kentucky snapped its streak of bowl games, won just one SEC game, got decimated by Louisville and had BBN ready to put Stoops’ head on a pike. As if all of that wasn’t legacy building enough, UK had its entire 2021 10-win season vanquished from the history books just before the season began. But, alas, don’t worry: Mark Stoops is motivated this year!
Before our very eyes, our beloved White Hall becomes a shell of its once lively self more and more with each passing day. Gone too soon for juniors and seniors… unless you take a fifth or sixth year, and trust us, it happens. The hallways, where the feet of students eager to learn once danced to class, lie dust and dirt. The sidewalk where students would take shelter during terrible storms stands wire fences and blue tarp. Like come on, mom and dad, Grandpa Eli is making us stay with Aunt CON and Uncle Erickson. All we can hope is the stairs remain to preserve that original, some may even say historic, White Hall feel. The “feel” I’m talking about is your lungs collapsing. I was kidding. No one wants to keep those stairs. And I mean no. one. All of this to say: White Hall, we miss you, the next generation of students will never know the real you, but we will, and we will never forget you.
Once upon a time, on a dark, stormy night, a lonely crane sat behind Donovan Hall yearning to be loved. The poor crane watched from a muddy field as smiling students walked past hand in hand with their loved ones. It wondered when its time to be loved would come. The next morning, the lonely crane awoke for another abysmal, isolating day, but a sudden surprise changed its life forever. Right there in front of the crane stood another crane, glowing in the sunlight. It was love at first sight. A single tear ran down the crane's surface, as it overflowed with joy. The two cranes did everything together from that moment on, as they celebrated each passing day holding hands and staring into each other's eyes. Their love became one for the history books as every passing student envied their connection. Together they walked into the sunset, dreaming of their long life and they lived happily ever after.
With a diverse student body from a variety of different backgrounds, the University of Kentucky has emphasized taking strides to make sure all voices are represented. This was shown to be a priority on August 20, 2024, when Capiluto sent an email informing students that the Office for Institutional Diversity would be disbanded. Having a whole office dedicated to those underrepresented and unheard is SO unfair to privileged students! Who will fight for them? True diversity, equity and inclusion means uplifting NO ONE, even those who need it!
For centuries, being a fan of Kentucky basketball has been a rather religious affair, so it’s ironic that Mitch Barnhart finally convinced a Pope to lead both players and fans alike into battle. For many who weren’t convinced by the seemingly valiant efforts of former Wildcat Head Coaches, turned pigs, the Pope was a refreshing sight for all who had eyes. Even Pope Francis agrees, for all non-believers, Mark Pope is the man to believe in moving forward.
Nothing quite says true friendship like that blue and white slip left under windshield wipers. If anyone knows where to find us, it would be UK Transportation Services. Between the William T. Young lot and Cornerstone Garage, the parking police always know how to brighten our days with a note requesting $30 dollars. If you’re extra lucky, they even leave presents on your tire, hoping to receive a call thanking them for such a gift. With how much they have followed us around this year, some might say they are the only friend you need!
If there is one thing that the University of Kentucky really excels at it is vague communication and lack of clarity. When your phone rings with a “UK Alert,” you will probably receive a message full of suspense and important details. “UK Alert: Incident reported. Avoid the area.” Which area? It doesn’t matter. Was there an actual threat?
Who knows. Should students be concerned? Up to them. But do not fear, the follow-up, sent three hours later, will reassure everyone that everything is “under control,” without ever explaining what happened in the first place. Truly, no one is as detail oriented as “UK alerts.”
When it comes to 5-star, high quality restaurants, look no further. Behold, the beautiful fast-food restaurant L8nite and all of its glory. A paradise amidst the bustling fast-paced city-life of UK. A restaurant where you have the luxury of choosing whether you want your facial hair in the burger or on the side . . . at least that was the case, until the owner suddenly announced its permanent closure. Could it have closed due to the alleged safety issues near the restaurant and lack of customers? Or was L8nite’s ex -
piration date simply past due, much like their lettuce? Allegedly, of course.
The sun rises, birds whistle and drills chirp as construction continues on the ground beneath which we lay our heads to rest every night on central campus. Even on mornings when you need not rise for class, our very own alarm clock has different plans for trying to fix our sleep schedules. While the lovebird cranes do nothing but sway, we students are agonizingly forced to wake each morning by the harrowing sounds which come from the seemingly never ending construction around campus. Even if we were ever able to allegedly use these new buildings, nothing would replace the one hour of sleep I lose each morning while listening to clinks and clanks that sounds like Mozart's 4th Symphony (WHO EVEN HEARD OF THAT ONE BEFORE???)
Cole Parke Sports Editor
It would be an understatement to say that the last four years of my life have been nowhere near what I expected them to be.
Four years ago, I wasn’t sure I was going to be a student at the University of Kentucky. In fact, I was confident I wouldn’t. I stayed confident I wouldn’t right up until the day I committed to UK and its journalism program.
Coming into college I had a dream, but no idea how to turn it into a reality. Sports were something I understood and in this world full of uncertainty, I was determined to cling onto what felt familiar to me.
As I entered my first lecture hall, my dorm room and the next chapter of my life, I had never heard of the Kentucky Kernel until two weeks into my first semester.
I couldn’t have possibly predicted how much of an impact it would have on my life.
The last four years of my life have been some of the most challenging — scratch that — THE most challenging years of my life, but the Kernel was with me through it all.
The Kernel was in my corner when I changed my major… twice, the Kernel was behind me when I hit the lowest point I’ve ever been in my life and the Kernel supported me when I lost my father far earlier than one ever expects to.
This place and these people have seen me at my lowest and they’ve seen some of my greatest accomplishments. They saw me win my first of five awards as a journalist, they saw me find comfort and confidence in who I am as a person and they saw me turn a wide-eyed dream into a reality.
Despite being just half an hour from my home, I came into UK hardly knowing anybody, and I will leave the Kernel with lifelong friendships and memories I won’t forget even after I’m gone from this world.
I’ve traveled the country with my best friends, I’ve witnessed history on numerous occasions, I’ve made invaluable connections and I’ve won a national award.
From being promoted to assistant sports editor as a second-semester freshman to leading the sports desk as head editor for three years, starting with just seven reporters and growing it to nearly 45, the
Kentucky Kernel gave me a lifeline I didn’t know I needed, not just professionally, but personally.
Kentucky Kernel gave me a lifeline I didn’t know I needed, not just professionally, but personally.
As I finally step away from the role I have held through it all and face, once again, that wave of uncertainty in the future, I do so with the confidence and reassurance that I am a far stronger and more capable person than I was the last time. I do so with the confidence and reassurance that the strangers I met in college are now my dearest friends that will always support me.
As I finally step away from the role I have held through it all and face, once again, that wave of uncertainty in the future, I do so with the confidence and reassurance that I am a far stronger and more capable person than I was the last time. I do so with the confidence and reassurance that the strangers I met in college are now my dearest friends that will always support me.
I never could have accomplished any of it without my leaders and mentors over the years in Rayleigh, Hannah, Abbey, Jack, Hunter and Ryan. I would’ve fallen apart several times over without my wonderful assistants who all became dear friends in
I never could have accomplished any of it without my leaders and mentors over the years in Rayleigh, Hannah, Abbey, Jack, Hunter and Ryan. I would’ve fallen apart several times over without my wonderful assistants who all became dear friends in
Smoney, Ali and Jonathon. And I could never thank enough everyone else who means the world to me and gave me a reason to keep pushing forward in Kristen, Matthew, Casey, Colton, Sara, Christian, Kaci, Ava and so many more.
Smoney, Ali and Jonathon. And I could never thank enough everyone else who means the world to me and gave me a reason to keep pushing forward in Kristen, Matthew, Casey, Colton, Sara, Christian, Kaci, Ava and so many more.
I never painted myself as an overly sentimental person and I never pictured myself writing this kind of farewell. I also never thought I would have so much to say when I begrudgingly agreed to do one. But as the words pour out of me, I have to admit that I will dearly miss my time with the Kentucky Kernel. I will forever look back upon this time in my life that most would consider their worst with fond memories. And, most of all, I will forever be a Kernelite.
I never painted myself as an overly sentimental person and I never pictured myself writing this kind of farewell. I also never thought I would have so much to say when I begrudgingly agreed to do one. But as the words pour out of me, I have to admit that I will dearly miss my time with the Kentucky Kernel. I will forever look back upon this time in my life that most would consider their worst with fond memories. And, most of all, I will forever be a Kernelite.
Kristen Roberts KRNL Managing Editor
Where do I even begin …
Nearly four years ago, I came to UK because I thought they had a good journalism program and I would escape an hour away from home — I’d be able to grow professionally and as a person, right?
I was right. But I never realized how much these four years would truly mean to me.
When I started the Kernel sophomore year, I was so incredibly scared. Scared of failure, scared of embarrassing myself and scared of not having what it takes.
I still vividly remember my first story ever, an opinion on the best way to celebrate after a Cats football game win, assigned to me by Rayleigh. I didn’t even really know how to write journalistically yet.
I was scared, but I did it anyway, and that has been my motto throughout the rest of college.
I continued to write for the Kernel, became features editor and now act as managing editor for KRNL in my last semester. Back when I first started writing for the Kernel, I had always looked up to all of my editors. I wanted to be like them: talented, creative, curious and hard working. I am so proud to be able to say I was a part of that crowd.
Being the managing editor of KRNL is a job I never knew I was capable of. The goal was always to be one of those editors I looked up to, and after that, there was
Kaci McCarthy
Social Media Manager
Before I even stepped foot onto the campus at the University of Kentucky in the fall of 2021, I knew the Kernel was home.
Prior to my freshman year, I saw the Kernel and KRNL’s social media and knew I wanted to be a part of it in some way. When they posted a newsletter coordinator position, I took a leap of faith to apply and got the position.
To Rayleigh for guiding me toward my passions within the journalism world. In my second semester of freshman year, she let me headstart the digital transformation of the Kernel through social media. With the Kernel mainly focusing its outreach through print, I helped slowly expand our audience to thousands through a digital presence.
Like most students, I experienced ups and downs throughout my time in college. From taking a semester off, the Kernel stuck right by my side through it all and never gave up on me.
To the talented past editor-in-chiefs, Rayleigh,
nothing more I wanted out of my college experience. But then Laurel offered me the managing editor position and I knew I would be a fool not to take her up on it. I have found myself saying this is the job I never knew I needed. If it wasn’t for Laurel, I never would have learned what it meant to put your entire heart into something — that is what she did with this semester’s magazine.
Hannah and Abbey, you all have instilled the power of good journalism through me and so many other outstanding journalists.
Kristen and Ava, even though I barely knew you both when we had to cram into the backseat for 13 hours in Cole’s truck on the way home from New Orleans, I’m so
This magazine also led to me creating my favorite story ever. Writing about Meredith King, UK professor and domestic violence survivor, allowed me to experience journalism in a whole other light. I had the opportunity to write about someone’s real-life story, the good, bad and the ugly.
So many of my experiences with Kernel Media have been good ones and I cannot thank the team of hard-working people around me enough. If you ever sat in the office with me until 3 a.m., read or edited one of my stories, listened to my trials and tribulations, or laughed at one of my jokes, I will never forget you.
The friendships I have made along the way will last a lifetime. I can’t wait to hear about Cole and all his success as a sports writer. I can’t wait to see Laurel and Abbey’s names up in lights. I can’t wait to have phone calls with Ava reminiscing about the ‘good ole days.’
Most of all, I will never forget Ryan and all he has done for me during my time here. He has not only acted as a mentor, professor and editor — but as a friend. Ryan is the reason I am managing editor of an amazing magazine, and he is the reason I might be taking an internship with Garden & Gun after I graduate.
I cannot describe how bittersweet it will be to leave this place, but I will always have the people and memories. That is something you just can’t ever lose. I believe everything happens for a reason, and even if it was only four years, there is a reason we were all brought together during this time. We were great journalists and I hope we are until the end of time.
glad the Kernel brought me to you all. Kristen, thank you for inspiring me to write my first story and getting it published on the website. Ava, thank you for having faith in me and being supportive of anything I set my mind to. Without that spontaneous trip we all decided to go on, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have met my best friends. Harper, it’s been great working with you this past year, and I know you will continue to grow the Kernel social media.
Ryan, thank you so much for all the faith and compliments you’ve expressed to me. You were my first mentor at UK and have always inspired me to not shy away from an opportunity like the Disney College Program. You challenged me to see the world differently and refused to let me settle for being just okay. Ultimately, you gave me the confidence to know deep down I could be something great. From being called the Kansas Kernel at a convention to winning national awards, every moment with the Kernel has been a core memory.
Starting and ending with the Kernel, I could have never in a million years imagined the impacts it would have on me. From my experiences, to the friends and opportunities I have had along the way, my time at the Kernel for the past four years will forever hold a special place in my heart.
Matthew Mueller Photo Editor
As the semester comes to a close and my fellow senior editors and I close this part of our lives in student journalism, I'd like to look back at the opportunities given to me this semester to hold this role at the Kernel. From being able to cover one of the most controversial presidential elections in the history of our nation, following what will arguably go down as the most unique men’s basketball team Kentucky has ever seen, and being able to tell stories of my fellow students through my lens, I was given the honor to help guide the Kernel photo desk through new and (repeated) unprecedented times.
Looking back, I’ve learned what it means to be an editor, what it means to bring together a group of people and help foster a culture of dedication to quality journalistic photography, and to deliver timely and accurate news to our readers. I learned how to be a leader and uplift those around me who want to make an impact through their photography, and push them to be a greater version of themselves. I learned that Journalism is where I am meant to be — it is my path in life — and that there is nowhere else I'd rather be than in a newsroom or in the field with my peers telling the best stories possible.
I did not get here on my own or without guidance. My advisors, Ryan Craig and David Stephenson, helped me stay grounded and passed down vital knowledge and experience when I had questions. My assistant, Christian Kantosky — the best number two imaginable — was reliably a rock for me when it felt like the assignments were a never-ending mountain. My fellow Kernel editors, with me the entire journey, will be the friends I carry into the next part of my life and beyond. Also, our sports editor Cole Parke, we’ve spent countless hours together covering Kentucky basketball and there is nobody else I would have rather done it with or call my best friend. There is one person I feel I owe this all to, however, and that is Chet White. Chet was the first person to guide me to photography and see the potential in me and believe in me, even when — especially when — I couldn’t. It is because of him that I am able to write this letter at all, and I will forever be grateful for all he's done.
As I prepare to walk the stage, I am excited for what's ahead. The Kentucky Kernel is forever a part of me; I am confident in the incoming staff and know they are ready to continue producing some of the highest quality news out there. As for me, I will be preparing for my photo internship in Omaha, Nebraska, where I'll continue working hard to better myself as a photojournalist and support the foundations of good journalism. Thank you, all. Go Cats.
Akhila Nadimpalli Design Editor
I came to UK as a freshman who wanted to pursue graphic design and try out different avenues of creative work. I also had just come from my highschool journalism magnet and yearbook staff, so I yearned to find a similar community. As a sophomore, I was searching for a creative student job and found myself applying to a job announcement for a designer from a student newspaper. Next thing I know I am in an overly air conditioned McVey Hall, very late into a Wednesday night, laying out my first paper and wondering what I had gotten myself into. Since then, I have met so many talented people, we have transformed our once weekly paper into “special section” papers with former Editor-in-chief Hannah Stanley and I have had the opportunity to receive recognition for my work at different conventions.
When I look back at my time on staff, I want to thank and acknowledge so many people that have been a part of the past three years.
Ryan Craig, I always have enjoyed when I have gotten to chat with you and my best memories will be hearing your renditions of radio pop songs (special mention to Espresso) in the van when travelling to New Orleans and Mississippi. Thank you for lending me your hawk eyes to check my kerning/ leading, alignment, bad breaks and various other mistakes since my very first time laying out and for almost three years.
Bryce McNeil, I remember when you joined us at the Kernel and still remember you giving me (well-meaning) suggestions on titles and story angles even though I was just a person that laid out the weekly paper at the time. Although I think it absolutely speaks to your passion, energy and enthusiasm towards everything you do! Thank you for being with us at the Kernel.
Abbey Cutrer, I have loved getting to know you these past few years as a passionate photojournalist and storyteller, I’ll fondly remember sitting in our beloved basement office and giggling at whatever while laying out the paper for the past two years.
Casey Sebastiano, I have gotten to know you as a passionate journalist and a warm presence in the office. You have done a wonderful job as managing editor this year and I’m excited to see how you grow and thrive.
Cole Parke, thank you for tolerating me not really understanding sports stuff when I have laid out our sports-heavy papers. You are an absolutely talented writer, and a good leader who has carried and elevated Kernel Sports in three years with your hard work.
Matthew Mueller, thank you for often being the goofy and friendly energy in the office on Mondays before meetings. I really appreciate what you do as photo editor when I am constantly asking you for photos, captions or what crops would be okay to fit photos into spreads. I know you’ll do great things and I’m sure I’ll see your name somewhere next to some big team’s photos soon.
Giana Gallo, it is astonishing to witness how much you have accomplished in a short amount of time. Your attention-grabbing energy, blunt humor, and passion when giving pep talks is something I’ll remember for a long time, and I believe this will make you a really successful Editor-in-chief this coming fall.
To my designers Cameron and Sarah, I am so happy to have met you both this year and I am so grateful for helping me out with layout and graphics, and just for letting me talk (for too long) about
the most random stuff and matching my energy, it’s been fun! I wish you the best of luck for next year as you take over design and I know you both are more than capable.
There are many more people to thank who are talented editors, journalists and/or simply a friendly face whenever I walk into the office: Kennedy, Christian, Bella, Aidan, Sylvia, Hannah, Sammy and Gabby.
It has taken me a little time to let the idea of leaving school —my role at the Kernel specifically— sink in, but I am excited (and slightly nervous) for the future, to see what I am able to accomplish and what life experiences I get to have. I have the Kernel to thank for the increase in self confidence as a designer and creative, and I will miss the environment I have gotten to work in: all the joking, chatting and collaboration.
Love, Akhila.
Abbey Cutrer
As the ink dries on this, our final newspaper of the Kentucky Kernel, I reflect on my four years at this outlet. It has been an incredible journey serving as your editor-in-chief and I am filled with so much gratitude for the opportunity to have been a part of this vital voice on campus.
When I started college, I wanted to major in everything. I wanted to learn everything I could about people and how the world works. I found that journalism let me do that. I get to learn about it all. The Kernel was my avenue for that.
I started at the Kernel as a staff photographer in a newsroom of 12 people. I exit the Kernel as editor-in-chief of a newsroom of over 70 journalists.
The growth of our newsroom has been immense and I am so proud of every Kernelite that has walked through our doors. We owe so much of our growth to Professor Jen Smith, who pulls young freshmen into storytelling during her Journalism 101 class. She lights the spark and hands the passionate, bright eyed aspiring journalist over to the Kernel.
I would be remiss if I didn't take this opportunity to express my deep appreciation to the many people who have made my time as editor so rewarding. To my dedicated team of reporters, photographers, designers and editors, your passion, hard work and commitment to journalistic integrity have been the heart and soul of the Kernel. Thank you for your countless hours, your creative energy and your dedication to bringing important stories to our readers.
I want to extend my sincerest gratitude to my photo advisor, David Stephenson. David, your guidance and unwavering belief in the importance of student journalism have been invaluable throughout my college career. Your feedback and your willingness to listen have helped me grow into the photojournalist I am today. You’ve single-handedly spearheaded a photojournalism program at the University of Kentucky, and not just any program, a nationally awarded one. Thank you for believing in me. I wouldn’t be the journalist I am without you.
On a more personal note, to my sweet fiancé, Bennett: thank you for cheering me on every step of the way. Your love and patience have been my constant throughout this demanding editorship. Thank you for celebrating the highs and offering comfort during the lows. Knowing I had you by my side made all the difference. Thank you for bringing me dinner to every production night. Thank you for reading every story I wrote and staying up with me
on deadline. Thank you for your genuine interest in my career. You’ve kept me going. I love you.
To my parents, I truly couldn’t do this without you. You’ve been a consistent support and encouragement throughout my college career. Your belief in me and the sacrifices you've made have paved the way for every opportunity I've had, including this one. Thank you for instilling in me the values of hard work, perseverance and the importance of making a change. Your support has been my bedrock. Dad, you have taught me the importance of being a lifelong learner. Your influence as a passionate leader has been invaluable. Mama, your passion for storytelling truly rubbed off on me and I’m beyond grateful that your perseverance and organization influenced me as well. I love you both more than you know.
To my best friends, the talented Rana and creative Carter, you both have encouraged me so much during this year of my life. Your support means everything to me. It’s such a gift that my best friends happen to be amazing journalists as well. Thank you for the late-night editing sessions, the brainstorming coffees and for always believing in me, even when I doubted myself. I couldn't have done this without you both.
To the Kernelites who will carry the integrity of this
outlet on their back, I can’t wait to see all you do. To my incredible managing editor, Casey, the success of this outlet wouldn’t be the same without you. Your dedication to the truth and passion for leadership are so admirable. I can’t wait to read your stories. To Isabella, I cannot wait to see all you do with your flourishing career in journalism. You lead your desk with such passion and incredible leadership, and it was a joy to work with you. I will always be in your corner.
To our readers and the Lexington community, thank you for your continued engagement and support. Your readership has been and will continue to be the driving force behind our work, and we hope that you will continue to follow The Kernel in its digital evolution.
Witnessing the newsroom grow has been beautiful. Sitting at the head of our table in the Blazer Dining basement office and hearing my staff laugh together is incredibly rewarding. It's amazing to see people walk into this basement as strangers and quickly become friends, colleagues and eventually flourish into talented multimedia journalists.
This is only the beginning; may journalism always win.
Xoxo, your editor-in-chief, Abbey.