Hillbilly Elegy

of a modeling recruitment event at a
Dayton hotel, so Mom, Mamaw, Lindsay,
and I piled into Mamaw’s Buick and
headed north. Lindsay was bursting with
excitement, and I was, too. This was
going to be her big break and, by
extension, our whole family’s.
When we arrived at the hotel, a lady
instructed us to follow signs to a giant
ballroom and wait in line. The ballroom
was perfectly tacky in that 1970s sort of
way: ugly carpet, big chandeliers, and
lighting just bright enough to prevent you
from stumbling over your own feet. I
wondered how any talent agent could
ever appreciate my sister’s beauty. It
was too damned dark.