A genuine Kentucky “Whooeee” stick is truly a thing to behold. It consists of a light cedar wand, about 1/2 x 1/2 x 10”, with nine quarter-inch notches cut along one side, and a 3” propeller mounted at one end. A “rubbing” stick completes the equipment— a slightly curved piece of dogwood, about 3 1/2” long, cut in the full of the moon. Those of the proper faith and courage, with perhaps a wee bit of Kentucky blood in their veins, can hold the longer wand in their left hand, rub the notches with the “rubbing” stick, and the propeller will whirl about.

My own private “Whooeee” stick was made by Buel Spears, of Scottsville, and it is showing signs of wear. Many skeptics who try it are too embarrassed to shout “Whooeee” and have just about rubbed away the notches. One fellow had the audacity to say that he didn’t believe saying “Whooeee” had anything to do with it; 

but people like that won’t even believe the trombonist swallows the slide he pushes back and forth. There is little hope for such folk.

No! I will not tell you how it works. You might tell my grandchildren and they, robbed of wonder and mystery, might tell others. It is fearful to contemplate this world without “Whooeee” sticks. The blithe spirit, so much needed to lift us out of life’s humdrum, would perish. Little children would quit believing in elves and Santa Claus, and “play-like” would take on an ominous meaning, like “deception” or “lie.” Slowly but surely laughter would cease, and in the dead calm people would move uneasily, looking with suspicion upon all about them. And without play “Whooeee” sticks how would we know to question the “Whooeee” sticks of politics, business and religion? Where would we get a good example of the fallacy of non- sequitur?