A conversation with Granny pt. 1

A while back I got to sit down and record a conversation with my granny. I'm so lucky to still have her to tell her stories to me. There's quite a bit of transcript I'm still working through but this is one of my favorite parts. I've left in her dialect because it's authentically granny. 

Meg: What do you remember your daddy doing most?

Granny: Well he farmed. I guess he enjoyed it that's all he done. They worked hard. Daddy worked hard but Daddy used to be a drinker now he loved moonshine.

Meg: Did he make it?

Granny: Yeah. He just never did get caught but he made it. He sold it. And Mom sold whiskey till she said they was coming across, they carried it outta Boggs Creek. They'd have to go up there and get it and carry it out. And she said one time her and Estel was carrying a load out to sell for the next day you know and it was dark. And said they set down to rest and said Estel was always the type of person that never said any bad words they set down and he never had anything bad to say about anybody. She said they sat down on that log and he said "mom, don't you think there's another way that we could make a living besides this." And she said, "well Estel we'll try it." And she said she never sold another bit after that... 

But that's all they had to do, I mean they had to do something to even survive. And I know she said the ones that used to buy the whiskey from her, I think one of the men was ***** ******** and people like that but anyway said they come to buy some day or two after she said she wasn't selling no more and said he said "Well Pearlie I guess you think you're too damn good to sell whiskey." And she said no I'm not too good but I can make a living another way and she said that right there was the turning point, said she never did sell no more. But my daddy sure did drink it. She used to go up there at the barn and unscrew the cap on the whiskey and let it leak out so he wouldn't drink it. Cause he was the hatefulest man ever lived when he was drunk. God, I was scared to death of him. But then when he wasn't drinking he was a good person. That's just the way they lived. 

Coal & Roots

My roots are defined by two things. Land. Appalachia is land first and foremost. My roots are deep in the mountains of the first frontier. They are buried in the mountain soil which has been overturned each spring and harvested each fall. Though occasionally stirred they are too deep to uproot. The second part of roots is what they twist around under the dirt. People. My roots are knotted, spun ‘round, and tied up with so many mountain people I couldn’t extract them even if I wanted to.

But you can’t untangle the two. The people would not have survived here without the land. The land breathed life into the people and sustained them. The people of Appalachia have always relied on this land. Logged it. Plowed it. Grazed it. Planted it. Overturned it only to do it all again the next year. This is how the land sustained them. But amidst all this planting and growing our people found something to change the relationship between land and people. Black gold. King coal. And upon its discovery the mutual respect ended. The land had provided for the people in exchange for a fallow year. A chance to catch it’s breath for the promise of another bounty in a couple of years. But no more. The occasional Sabbath ended.

Raped. Plundered and pillaged. Some mountains taken to within an inch of their lives only to put a golf course on top of what used to be a peak and in the words of John Prine  “they wrote it all down as the progress of man.” This threat to our roots came from outsiders, from those who didn’t understand us enough to respect us only enough to manipulate us.

Boom and bust. We lived and died with the price of coal. Layoffs and mine falls. Matewan to Upper Big Branch. And when papaw was on strike UMWA would make sure mommy got her lunch for free. And now, we’ve gone from fighting against the man to fighting tooth and nail to defend him. Arch & Alpha have fed our families so long we’ve forgotten how to do it ourselves.

I can’t extract my roots from coal any more than I can put the top back on Red Onion mountain. But I can tell you it does not define us. We are so much more than “keeping the lights on.” We are a rich people, loyal to a fault, and hard-working as the day is long if you only give us a chance. Our roots are people and land and it’s high time we remember what this land has given us and start to give back to it. It’s sustained us long enough. We must find a way to remain here and sustain ourselves. 

Where I'm From

I am from Jacob's ladder quilts
From Tide detergent and biscuits and gravy for dinner
I am from the double-wide with immaculate flowers
it looked like a mansion to my mama
I am from the dogwood trees and mountain laurel that grows thick over forgotten trails
I'm from dinner at the ballgame and a love of Loretty and Conway
From Pearlie and Knoy
and Albert Lee
I'm from the hateful Sexton women
and the hard-drinking Hamiltons


From "friends of coal" and "cut from a different cloth"
I'm from are you washed in the blood and prayer meetin' on Wednesday night
I'm from Bold Camp, apple butter and scratch-made biscuits
From baseball with Easter eggs and "who's gonna clean this shit up"
While papaw smoked his pipe and shook his head
I am from the Cumberlands where night fell long ago and we're still waitin on the sun to rise

Let's Talk About Heritage

My hometown has a (hmm... what's the word festival, street fair, gathering... any of those will work) every year on Memorial Weekend and it's called Heritage Days. At some point though I think my brother called it "hergtige" (like hedge but with a r and only 2 syllables) so when I think of this word and go to say it, it usually comes out wrong.

I digress. I've been thinking a lot about heritage lately for some reason. And in pondering on it I recently connected the dots to realize how deep my roots are here in Virginia. From at least 3 generations back (all of my great grandparents) were from Virginia. Those are deep roots folks. No wonder it's hard to imagine leaving sweet Virginia.

The balance between hanging on and letting go is difficult in any situation but in my case it has been hardest in maintaining my roots. Clearly my accent has not left me and many have told me it's gotten worse. And I take much pride in my home but what I don't understand is the shame some people feel. I am so proud of where I come from and the self-made people there.

In researching Appalachia it's been so nice to read positive views of the Appalachian people rather than the stereotypes. In my experience, it's the Appalachian people themselves that tend to speak more frequently of the locals regarding the typical stereotypes like welfare abuse, hillbilliness (new word alert) and ignorance. And while there's no shortage of those things in the world, certainly none of them are exclusive to Appalachia. And why would any of us want to encourage those stereotypes (anybody been watching Buckwild?? shame on you!)

I'm not someone to embrace the stereotypes and I will direct you to a post from forever ago about mountain intellectuals. I know plenty of them, people without formal education who know a lot more than most professors I've had. My mother is the youngest of 11 and was raised in a household where her mother made their clothes and her daddy worked in the mines. My daddy was raised by the hardest working woman I know and a man who preferred working for himself rather than for the man. Thank God for those roots. I carry them with me everyday.

In thinking of all this over the past weeks my mom's sister posted some old pictures of their family through the years and I wanted to share. After going "home" this weekend I will try to post some of my dad's family if I can get my hands on some. Hope you enjoy them and that some of them speak to you:

 

Christmas

My sweet papaw, I miss him so

My mamaw

The swoop bangs belong to my naked little mommy



This could potentially be my favorite picture of all time.

3 of my mom's sisters

 

 



Would love to hear about your heritage fellow bloggers. Take pride in it, it's made you who you are.

Sophisticated ignorance, write my curses in cursive

Recently I had someone insult me, it wasn't intentional and everyone is entitled to their own opinion but it wasn't just that they insulted me it was my hometown. I did not let this person know that I was offended because I do care about them and if I had said what I thought I would have regretted it. But this cliche' has become more common and it doesn't come from outsiders. The comment regarded the area in which I was brought up. Most would expect that people who make negative comments regarding the Appalachian region would be those outside it, but more and more commonly I find these comments coming from those who are from the region itself. And honestly I take much more offense from those who did grow up there and seem to forget where they came from.

I get it, our area is not booming with opportunity but let's be straight it is what you make of it. If I lived my life in the interest of fame and fortune it would not be the place to be. But my desire in life is to help people and surround myself with those I love and lucky for me that place has always been Pound, VA.

Anyway, I believe the exact quote said to me went something like this "Just do me a favor and don't move too close to Wise County. Just think of all of the opportunities you missed growing up there." Drew later told me I had smoke coming out of my ears. I just don't see all of the opportunity I missed. I attended two different colleges and received a bachelor's degree all while living at home and without having to leave Wise County. That seems like a pretty good opportunity to me.

That is, if you define opportunity in the form of academia. Now let's talk about a different kind of opportunity...the opportunity to join a gang, engage in violence or feel unsafe? Yes those are all opportunities Wise County robbed me of. Does that somehow make me inferior to you because I was sheltered from all of those things? I say no.

I enjoy being able to go to the grocery store and recognize every single person I see. I like feeling absolutely 100% safe leaving my home and car unlocked. I would like the idea of sending my children to school knowing the teachers that they will be spending their day with.

I have come to a harsh conclusion, I don't mean to single any one person out because I have several examples. If you grew up in Wise County and detest it or think you are better than it, then you are not proud of what you did while you were there. It is a small area and bad news travels fast so that's why I say those who have mostly negative things to say about it have something they are hiding from there. This may not be true in every case but I have a pretty long list of examples.

I cannot say with absolute certainty that Drew and I will end up in Wise County again but if the wind does blow us there I for one will be "tickled the shit out of "as my papaw would have said. I have such pride in being an Appalachian and I don't see how anyone who grew up there could feel any differently.

Hope I didn't step on too many toes but it has been one comment after another from locals lately and I had heard enough.



Jesus never fails.