Mark and I met as children in a small mountain town in southwest Virginia. He was a preacher’s kid and he moved away in the 9th grade. Thirty some years later, Mark and I got married. We didn’t want to rush you know! Mark’s sister is and has been my best friend most of my life. I always loved Mark’s family and am so happy to be a part of it now.We returned to the mountains after many years and many adventures. We love it here. Times are changing in the mountains so we decided to start this blog to try to capture memories for future generations. Writing out our stores is sort of leaving a mark that we walked this good earth. It is like old timers carving their initials in trees. The marks will be there long after we are gone. We are not great writers or great thinkers. We are just simple mountain people. We recently watched the Kevin Costner series on the History Channel about the Hatfields and the McCoys. We really enjoyed it because it reminded us so much of life as we recall, to some degree, as children. We were born at the cusp of times changing but the stories our parents told us and the people we encountered still had a flavor of pretty tough mountain life. When Mark and I were children, homes did have telephones. They came into fashion when we were older kids. Telephones were the crank types and our numbers were a bit odd. Our telephone was 5F12, a long and two shorts. People would ring the phone by hand and we learned to recognize our ring. We were on party lines so it was important to learn the sound of a long and two short rings. Also many people did not have indoor bathrooms. Kids at school were not always so clean. It was not unusual for kids to be half hungry and barefoot. This blog is to describe such memories and experiences. It was like third world country. It still is in some ways.
West Virginia borders Virginia naturally. West Virginia rather illegally broke from Virginia around the time of the great War, the War of Northern Aggression, or the Civil War as most people tend to say. There is a bit of friendly poking and insults that people in this part of Virginia like to make regarding West Virginia and West Virginians. We consider West Virginia to be a redneck state full of illiterate hillbillies. That is not really true. It is not completely untrue either. The thing is, there is little difference that a few miles makes in lifestyle and people. My Dad was from West by God Virginia so I can’t say much. All of my relatives on my Dad’s side were from West Virginia. They are a freaky bunch. I went to a reunion as a child and I thought I was at a mutant convention. Even my Dad liked to take me to a mall in West Virginia just so we could sit and watch people walking by us. Dad had to admit that the genetic situation in West Virginia was a bit interesting. I say that with love though. I love West Virginia and its fine inhabitants. They are products of a hard past and hard lives in many cases. The hollers and hard conditions they faced would make anyone bowlegged and long in the tooth. West Virginia is a wilderness and a mystery. Virginia is all high brow and snotty, especially outside southwest Virginia. Where I grew up had way more in common with West Virginia than it did with Northern or Eastern Virginia.
People where I grew up were close to the mountains and to nature. We killed pigs, hunted deer, tracked bear, grew gardens and all such things. It was hell and it was paradise. People like to tell stories and talk and talk, never about anything personal, but about relatives and history and day-to-day matters. I can remember visiting my grandparents in West Virginia and sitting in the dark hearing the adults talk. My Grandparents got electricity when I was little but they did not like to run up the electric bill so they seldom turned on the lights. They had a wood stove that would make popping sounds as the wood burned. My Granny would pop corn in her wood burning cook stove. We got to pee in the yard or go to the outhouse some distance from the house. They lived alone way out in the country so there was no light anywhere. When it was really dark, and we were trying to sleep, if we had to use the bathroom, we would pull out the slop jar which was kept under the bed. It had a lid so it worked okay. The slop jar got dumped into the outhouse the next day. I thought that was gross but I sure didn’t want to go outside alone after dark. I didn’t like to stay with my Grandparents truthfully. My sister and I always got to sleep in the bedroom upstairs where a great-aunt had been murdered. In that room, they had a picture of Great Uncle Frank. It was a picture of his face in a big frame. Great Uncle Frank got decapitated in the coal mines. Well, that is what we were told. They said he worked to get Unions established in the mines so the powers that be got rid of him. It was all sort of creepy. In the room downstairs underneath the room where we slept, the man who had shot and killed my great-aunt killed himself. There was an organ in that room. My great-grandfather had built the house by hand. The place was just crawling with memories and whispers. I still have dreams, or more like nightmares, about that house. It burned to the ground about 15 years ago. I think my Uncle who was messed up in the Korean War had something to do with that. He painted the house with molasses and kerosene and had a smoke. He survived but the house did not. The poor man needed help but no help was to come until the house was destroyed. They put him in a nursing home and gave him the meds he needed but could not afford on his own.
I remember chickens, cows, bulls, frog ponds, horses, meadows, crops, barns, sheds, flowers and all sorts of things from the time I spent with my Grandparents. I remember my Dad carrying my little sister on his back when we had to walk for miles to get to their house when the snow was deep. What was interesting for me about the Hatfield and McCoy story was their fighting of course, but also the way of life of the time. It reminded me of life at my Grandparents. I could smell the horses almost when I watched that series. I could feel the earth under my feet. It was just very real. It brought back lots of memories. We were no relations to the Hatfields or the McCoys. Well, who really knows in West Virginia. I never heard much about them except about the basic family feud that everyone knows. I read up on them after watching the series and they seem like people I knew and liked as a kid. Odd.
My Grandmother always claimed that she had blue blood, the mountain term for an aristocrat. I heard her mention something about the family tree but I never really heard the story until I was an adult and she was long gone. Apparently my Grandmother’s father’s father had worked in a fancy resort in West Virginia as a young man. A young woman, a descendant of Patrick Henry was staying at the resort when my great, great….Grandfather worked there. They hit it off and got in the family way. They got married and thus Granny got her story of having blue blood. She was a descendant of Patrick Henry. She was certainly fiery like Patrick Henry. I finally visited Red Hill where Patrick Henry lived. The people working there immediately asked me if I was a magnolia. A magnolia is a descendant of Patrick Henry. I have no earthly idea if this story is true about being in the blood line of Patrick Henry. I do know that they showed me some photos of some magnolias and I do indeed have a similar look. It was a bit freaky. Apparently Patrick Henry got around and left a lot of children who also had a lot of children. Probably half of southwest Virginia is a magnolia blossom. It is a good story though. My Grandfather always gave my Granny hell about her blood blue assertions. Papaw was not an incredibly kind or nice person. He was the baby of his family and he had a lot of spoiled rotten behaviors and tendencies. He married Granny, who was indeed from a wealthy family and he spent his life putting her down. I guess it was jealousy or something. Her family lost all of their wealth during the great depression so I don’t see why he needed to give her such a hard time. She had not trouble defending herself though. Those two were not much fun to be around when they got into their discussions. My Dad had a little camera that took moving pictures when we were kids and he got a film of his parents just mouthing off at each other. There was no sound but that silent movie was very loud.
I am sorry to have rambled on so………I just have a few more things to say. I am a middle-aged, opinionated woman. I hope I don’t offend anyone but I am sure I will. Too bad. I just survived death and I really don’t give a hoot about what you think. If you have criticism, keep it to yourself. If you want to post your stories and experiences about mountain life, I will welcome them. I just don’t want spam and advertisements. I don’t want links so you can get a penny every time someone clicks onto your site. That is just poor form and I don’t want vultures and carpetbaggers on our site. I will not approve creepy posts like that. Don’t waste your time.
My name is Susan and I am about to sign off for now. My husband, Mark will be writing soon. He is a much better writer but he is even more opinionated that I am! He is one tough old man so don’t mess with him.
Here are some links that I think are cool. I am going to try to post one to a blog I read the other day by a direct descendent of the Hatfields. She sets the record straight on the story as it really happened. It is fascinating. Also I am putting a link to where you can buy a book about the Hatfields and McCoys on Amazon.
http://appalachianlady.wordpress.com/
Also, I found a really cool site where you can visit graves and leave virtual flowers. I put flowers on the site for Mr. Hatfield. I also put flowers on the virtual site for Vivien Leigh, John Wayne, Thomas Merton and others. Check it out. It really is not creepy. Well, maybe a little creepy. I think this site will become more and more popular because who has time to drive everywhere to visit gravesites? I can’t make it to my own Dad’s grave very often. You can upload a photo of a grave and post it and then send flowers and notes. Famous people are already listed on the site. It will be like GPS for gravesite finding in a few years.
http://www.findagrave.com/index.html
I found a video of the Hatfields and McCoys on Family Feud
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqYchj3hii8
Related articles
- HISTORY’s ‘Hatfields & McCoys’ Shatters Records with 14.3 Million Total Viewers on Night Three (tvbythenumbers.zap2it.com)
- TV miniseries draws tourists to Hatfield McCoy Country (wvgazette.com)
- Kevin Costner’s Hatfield: Meet the Man Behind the Feud (people.com)
English: Memorial at the site of the 1940-1945 Nazi concentration camp at Hinzert, Germany. At the right: monument by Lucien Wercollier. In the background: the Documentation Center (de: Dokumentations- und Begegnungshaus). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I didn’t know who wrote this passage so I checked on the Internet where I found a place that indicated that it was written by a Jewish prisoner in a concentration camp during WWII. Apparently it was written on a cellar wall at the Cologne camp. I don’t know if this is information is correct but that is what I read.
I had read the first part of this beautiful belief statement before and it was simply noted as being a Jewish Prayer. I did not know there were more lines to it beyond the first section. I just think this is one of the most moving pieces I have ever read and I love it even more now. Please feel free to add information or to correct the information here if it is not accurate.
“I believe in the sun even when it is not shining And I believe in love, even when there’s no one there. And I believe in God, even when he is silent.
I believe through any trial, there is always a way But sometimes in this suffering and hopeless despair My heart cries for shelter, to know someone’s there But a voice rises within me, saying hold on my child, I’ll give you strength, I’ll give you hope. Just stay a little while.
I believe in the sun even when it is not shining And I believe in love even when there’s no one there But I believe in God even when he is silent I believe through any trial there is always a way.
May there someday be sunshine May there someday be happiness May there someday be love May there someday be peace….”
– Unknown
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- Book Review: Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankel (explonder.wordpress.com)
Recall Rick (Photo credit: Vince_Lamb)
I heard something on the news about how the governor of Michigan, Rick Snyder, is appointing people to take over towns in his state. The governor is appointing tyrants basically. It sounds like he considers himself a king rather than a governor. The mini tyrants have the power to override the elected officials and make sole decisions in communities. They can hire and fire officials and seize property and shut down programs. Democracy? Michigan? What is going on with this? I don’t know much about it. Am I understanding this correctly? I find this extremely disturbing. Unbelievably dangerous. Something for all of us to note.
I saw this video on AARP site. It is so neat.
World War II nurses (Photo credit: timefornurses)
Tom Brokaw is in love with the greatest generation. I like Tom Brokaw and I respect him. I also really admire the greatest generation but I have some thoughts about that generation that are not so flattering. I personally think the greatest generation was a bit whacko. Don’t get me wrong, I am very appreciative of the accomplishments and sacrifices of the generation of my parents but quite frankly, I think a lot of people of that era were pretty mean and rigid in their thinking. Yes, the beat the snot out of the Germans and the Japanese. I watch the Band of Brothers every chance I get and I am blown away by the things these brave young men did. My own Dad was in the Navy in WWII where he served on the USS Nevada. An Uncle of mine was a glider pilot and was at the Battle of the Bulge. My Aunt knows what an enthusiast I am about WWII matters so she has told me she plans to give me his purple heart one day. It is something I will treasure. I am grateful to my Dad, my Uncle and all of the brave young men who fought in that war. I also am grateful to the women of that time who did so many things to be supportive of our great country.
Fighting the Japanese was a no brain-er. They attacked us and we had to defend ourselves. Understanding that Hitler was on a mad mission to take over the world and kill anyone who did not go along with him was also pretty evident after some time. I think having all of that aggression and evil to battle could not have made it a great time to live but I also think in some way it would have been the best of times to be alive. I remember when 9/11 happened and how angry I was and how sad I was. I felt so very proud to be an American during that time when we were attacked. I think everyone wanted to join up and kick some butt for the unthinkable crime of attacking our home and killing so many innocent people in such a ghastly manner. That is my point. That had to be feeling that the greatest generation felt when Pearl Harbor was attacked. The country was united and people wanted to go to war and fight the aggressors who attacked us. The War was as clear as Hitler. It was absolutely necessary to wage war against evil. Only a nut would have disagreed with going to war after Pearl Harbor. Despite how horrible the war was, there must have been something wonderful in feeling so clear and united. The next generation, the ones who were called to Vietnam, certainly did not have the perk of having a clear situation of good versus evil. What war since the big war, WWII, had such a clear situation? A clear enemy and a righteous cause by no means diminishes the valor of the men and women of WWII but I think it is a bit insulting to give this generation so much credit while giving so little to the following generation. I personally think that risking life and limb for an ambiguous situation calls for even more determination and internal strength.
Why do I think the greatest generation was whacko? Why do I think that generation was mean? Well, I don’t think they were all whacko or mean but I think the shoe fit a lot of the people of that generation. When I was a kid, I had the greatest generation all around me all of the time. They were my teachers, my principals, the adults at my church and in my community. They were my parents and the parents of my friends. I saw the greatest generation up close and personal. A good percentage of the teachers I had were as mean as rattlesnakes. They beat students for minor infractions and I don’t remember ever seeing a teacher smile or laugh in the classroom. They ruled classrooms and schools with fear and intimidation. Kids were honestly afraid to act out or question anything. Teachers seldom gave encouragement or praise. They preferred other, less inspirational methods such as ridicule and insult. Kind words were seldom heard.
Special Education, when I was a young girl in elementary school, was non-existent. There wasn’t a law then to protect students and make sure they received an appropriate education for their ability level. Students at my school who had learning challenges were placed in the boiler room where they learned how to be janitors. They cleaned the school every day. Students who ended up in janitor training were not tested or evaluated. Teachers referred them to this class. Certain names and skin color seemed to have played some role in the selection process.
Racism and bigotry were values that were taught by example and attitude in the school and in the community. The N word was not that uncommon to hear even from even church going people. Where I grew up there was even a section of town known as N…town. Teachers were known to pull white students aside and give them little talks on not being too friendly with Black kids. The greatest generation did not have any trouble fighting against people who put people in concentration camps for being Jewish but they did have difficulty understanding that segregation and racism in their own community was a bad thing.
Emotionally, the greatest generation was only operating on perhaps two cylinders. They could express anger and, oh yeah, one cylinder. They were angry. That generation did not talk about feelings. They sure as hell did not want their children to express any feelings. Crying was met with ridicule and other means to shut children up quickly. Parents did not want to hear about little situations where their children suffered from hurt feelings. Bullying was not a big deal. It was considered an opportunity for kids to learn how to take care of themselves. To be a bully was not a good thing though. Parents would gladly beat their kids if they heard that they got out of line in any way. Parents always sided with the teachers, principals or any adults who complained about their kid.
Laziness was not tolerated by the greatest generation. When I was a little girl, I ironed sheets and pillow cases standing on a chair. I almost always set the table for dinner. I almost always helped prepare the dinner. I almost always cleaned off the table after dinner. I washed almost every dish and every pot that ever got used in our house from the time I was tall enough to reach the sink. On Saturdays, there was no sleeping in or relaxing. Saturday morning was the time to clean the house which meant scrubbing floors, sweeping, running the vacuum, dusting, cleaning the bathroom and folding all of the laundry and putting it away among other things. After all of that, I could watch tv but, by then, all of the cartoons were usually over. Sunday, of course, was the day to get up and go to Church without complaint or hesitation. The consequences were severe if there was ever any resistance. The greatest generation liked to yell and scream on Sundays in particular. In the summer, that was the time I got to clean the basement, wash windows, work in the garden and can and freeze vegetables. One summer, when I was 12 years old, a girlfriend was allowed to visit me one day and we canned a bushel of tomatoes by ourselves. There weren’t any adults around to supervise us. My childhood was typical for kids of my age in my community. There were a lot of fun times but most of those times were when we would get on our beloved bicycles and get out of the house. We were allowed to swim, take dance classes, play ball and do other fun things but we always got to hear about how spoiled we were naturally.
When I got older and was living on my own, I began to think something was off when I called my parents on the telephone. I always asked them how they were doing and they would consistently respond with a health update. I was glad to learn about their health but I wanted to know how they were doing in other ways. I never got anything but health responses. I eventually realized that most people of my parents’ generation just did not and could not talk about feelings. There was no happy or sad or glad. Feelings were expressed but certainly not in words. Kids of my generation were trained to be half psychic. We learned to read voice tone and quality and to look for subtle cues to get a reading on what was going on with our parents. The greatest generation was a very emotionally repressed generation in my opinion. Many of the soldiers of WWII did not cry or get emotional over their memories of the war until many years had passed. They bottled that stuff up for decades. Most of the soldiers of WWII never really talked about the war until they got older. I never heard my Dad talk about the war until he was in his 70s. I often wondered why the greatest generation could be so tough and so strong and yet be so afraid of their own emotions. I love the greatest generation but they were a whacko bunch. They did a lot for this country that was noble and wonderful but they also made psychiatrists and psychologists popular people for their children to visit when they grew up and got away from them. My generation got to experience untreated Post Traumatic Shock from the greatest generation. No wonder we were hippies. As for Tom Brokaw, I think he is wrong. I believe that the greatest generation is yet to come.
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Patrick Henry in the Virginia legislature (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Here are a couple of quotes from a great man, a Virginian, of course.
“The Constitution is not an instrument for government to restrain the people, it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government, lest it come to dominate our lives and interests.”
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“Give me liberty or give me death!”
Patrick Henry, American Patriot, Virginia House of Burgesses, Continental Congress, Governor of Virginia.
I have always loved my home and I am mighty proud to be a Virginian. To live in the great Commonwealth of Virginia is an honor. Perhaps because of my great love for Virginia, this quotation was given to me as a present by my Mother even though she never quite understood my passion for this fair land. She was born and raised in North Carolina after all. I suspect this was a re-gift meaning that I think someone gave it to her and she did not want it in her home so she gave it to me! However it was acquired and for whatever reason it was given, I am grateful for this hand painted quotation that is beautifully framed. There is a Cardinal on a dogwood branch around the quotation. A good Virginian naturally knows these to be symbols of the great Commonwealth. The passage reads:
To be a Virginian either by birth, marriage, adoption or even on one’s mother’s side, is an introduction to any State in the Union, a passport to any foreign country and a benediction from the Almighty God.
Anonymous Author
I especially love that … the benediction from the Almighty God part! Since my Dad was born in the wilderness of West Virginia, I have wondered if I can really claim to be a true Virginian even though I was born and raised here. Since West Virginia illegally broke from Virginia in 1861 at the beginning of the Civil War, I have found peace that indeed all is well.
Some great Virginians include: George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison,, James Monroe, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler, Zachary Taylor and Woodrow Wilson. All were presidents, of course.
As a little aside: Number of presidents from West Virginia? That would be none! The most famous person from West Virginia? My vote would go to Stonewall Jackson but since he was born before the Civil War, obviously, one could reasonably consider him to be a Virginian.
Cover of Shenandoah
Shenandoah was a great movie about a family who got caught up in the Civil War. Jimmy Stewart played the farmer in this movie. As the head of the family, there was a scene where they were all sitting around the table listening to him pray. He said a prayer about how he and his family had plowed the soil, planted the seeds and harvested the crop. He went on to thank God anyway.The Movie was really very sad with lots of his family getting killed. His youngest son was captured by the Yankees so some of the family went to find the young boy. Somewhere in all of this, Jimmy Stewart was talking about the seemingly pointless quest to find his son. He said something that pops into my mind rather often when I am facing something that seems overwhelming. I don’t know if this is an exact quote but it went something like this:
If we don’t try, then we don’t do. If we don’t do, then what are we on this earth for anyway?
I really agree with this idea. Failure is often the mark of a hero in my mind. Anyone who fails at anything is someone who has tried. It is only in trying that we are ever put in a position of potential success. I like to think about Babe Ruth. He had a record for hitting so many home runs. He also held a record for striking out so many times. Thomas Edison met with success only after countless failures. Walt Disney was once fired from a job because his boss did not think he was very creative. It really goes to if we don’t try, we don’t do and if we don’t do what are we here for anyway?
I have mentioned that my Dad was from West Virginia and my Mother was from North Carolina so in the little mountain town where we lived in Virginia, we were considered “new comers” to the area. It is not entirely a myth that outsiders are not the most popular people in the mountain culture. Most of the kids I knew growing up had relatives all around them. There were several key families that had been in the area since Moses. It takes a generation or two of constant residence to really be considered community members in the full sense of the word. My family was always treated kindly but we were not in the center circle of life by any means.
There were and are some hard parts to being from the mountains. When I was young, it was a bit unusual to hear about anyone going much further than to the hills to hunt deer. I never heard of beach trips or fancy vacations. In the 7th grade, students were taken on a big school trip to Richmond to see the capital of the State and some of the major historical places. It was a very big deal for students to have a once in a lifetime opportunity to see these places and to go so far from home. That has all changed now. Back then, it was a most important experience and educators did everything within their power to make sure even the poorest of the poor students could go on this trip. It was the first time that many of the students had ever eaten out at a restaurant or stayed in a hotel. It was probably the first time some of the kids had crossed outside the county line.
My family, because my parents were from elsewhere, was a bit unusual because we traveled out-of-state rather often. We had to in order to see relatives. My Dad, though, liked to ride around and go places for no particular reason. He would make up reasons to hit the road. A big reason he found to hit the road had to do with rocks. Yes, rocks. We had many, many adventures in the quest to gather rocks. We would go dig up blastoids on a cliff near the train track. (Yes, it was very dangerous.) Blastoids are dinosaur turds or something that have been fossilized. From blastoids, Dad’s interest in rocks expanded and grew over the years. He even learned how to cut stones and make jewelry. He built a rock tumbler out of an old tire and a lawnmower motor. He got so he liked working with better stones so we went to a lot of rock shows where he bought nice slabs of stone, such as opal, to cut. He got quite good at it in fact. I still have a ring that he made for me from opal and another ring that I wear all of the time that has turquoise in it. Dad eventually wanted to move up to more precious stones, such as rubies.
There are ruby mines in North Carolina so Dad got very excited. Dad somehow acquired a camper for us to take because we could not afford a hotel. This camper was hand-made from wood and it was designed to sit on the back of a truck. It was really, really big. REALLY BIG. It was possible to stand up in the camper and walk around. It was painted a bright green so it looked quite amazing going down the road on the back of a truck. I am sure it did not meet any safety standards. I am sure it was quite dangerous. I don’t remember any special means by which it was secured to the truck. I imagine it could have slid off the truck quite easily. We didn’t just take the camper though, we also packed a little tent and all sorts of supplies. Dad figured the kids could sleep in the tent. With all of the gear packed, which included coolers of food and frying pans and all such things needed for a camping adventure, we were off to the ruby mines.
It was quite hot in North Carolina at the ruby mines. At the mines, there wasn’t much shade. There was a little stream that they had running through a wooden shaft where people could sift through mud that was placed in screens. It is a little tricky to explain. Let me make it simple. My sister and I got to dig buckets of mud and carry it about a 1/4 of a mile to my Dad. He would take the bucket of mud and pour it into a screen. He would then take the screen and put it in the stream to wash off the mud so he could look at the rocks in the mud to see if he could find a ruby. That was our family vacation. I got to dig and then carry buckets of mud for about 6 to 8 hours a day for three or four days in a row. The one good thing that I remember was that this was one of those special times when Dad bought me a soda.
Back at the campsite, after a day of digging and hauling mud, I was always hungry. Cooking over a fire was always fun but usually the food we cooked was the same old stuff we ate at home. Beans, mostly. Eating out was too expensive of course. Sleeping in the tent was not so bad until it began to rain. On our first of many trips to the ruby mines, with this big old camper, it rained a lot. It rained so much that a stream began to run beside me in the tent even though we were camped on a mountain side. The stream got bigger and bigger. My sister and I were in some danger of floating down the mountain before my Dad checked on us. It was so bad we had to pack up and get on the road. It turned out a hurricane had hit…could it be Hurricane Camille? Not sure but that might be the one that we were in on that trip. Anyway, we drove that camper to my Aunt’s house who lived about a hundred miles away from the ruby mines. We arrived looking pretty rough and my Aunt, when she saw that camper, I thought she was going to faint. We were like the Beverly hillbillies showing up at her home. My Aunt was and is a wealthy woman who lives in a very fancy community. It was all around a humiliating experience.
That camper sat behind our house for years and years until it finally rotted. We never used it again for camping. Dad used as a storage shed for rocks, blastoids and all such treasures, which included a couple of little rubies.
When I was a young girl, we did own a television. We owned two televisions! One sat on top of the other. The bottom one had a picture and the top one had sound. That system worked quite well for many years. Our family even had a remote control. That would be me, of course. I got to change the channels on both television sets. I can’t say that it was a terribly hard job because we only got two stations. That was about all anyone in the mountains where we lived got on their TV sets. Some people got three stations. The people who got three stations got ABC. We got NBC and CBS. I think that is correct. What I know for sure is that we didn’t get the channel that showed Star Trek. That was a major disappointment because it was quite the rage among some of the most cool kids at school. A dear friend of mine, Ronnie, was a fabulous artist and he used to draw the Enterprise all of the time and tell me about the show so I knew a bit what I was missing.
Favorite shows of the time that we did get on our televisions included: Andy Griffith, Raw Hide Gunsmoke, Bonanza, I Love Lucy (which I did not love), The Monkees (awesome), Sonny and Cher, Laugh-In, The Smother’s Brothers, The Carol Burnett Show, The Glenn Campbell Show, Dragnet, Doris Day Show, Hee-Haw, Mary Tyler Moore, The Lawrence Welk Show (yuck), The Ed Sullivan Show and lots of others that I cannot remember. Some of the shows we watched we did not like but there weren’t a lot of choices. My family had the television on every evening from around 5:00 pm through 11:30 pm. That was when the local news ended. There was some nightly talk show on after the news, such as Johnny Carson, but we seldom watched that.
I think I was a teenager when the Waltons came on and I really liked that show. I dreamed of living in that family. They seemed so happy. I remember when the Beetles appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. It was fantastic. I remember my Dad making fun of the “bugs.” He said they only knew three words, “yeah, yeah, yeah.” Elvis was in lots of movies at the time. I liked the Monkees. Well, I liked their music and I liked watching the show because the guys were so cute but I thought the show was sort of stupid actually. I really liked the cartoons of that era but I seldom got to see them on Saturday morning. I usually was able to watch some show about an airplane called Sky King on Saturday afternoon. Lassie, the dog show was quite popular but I never got to see if often. I did see Lost in Space often but I thought that was a dumb show. One of my favorite shows was the Walt Disney Show. It was on television every Sunday night for many years. I loved Walt Disney. I remember that I was decorating the Christmas tree one year when I heard that he had died on the evening news. It was an awful day. I thought about that for many years to come when I decorated the Christmas tree.
My parents did not have a color television until the mid 1980s. Black and white television sets were what most people had when I was growing up in the mountains. We felt lucky to have a television because our Grandparents, my Dad’s parents, did not have a television. They were still listening to the radio. I remember one summer when one of our two televisions broke so we couldn’t really enjoy television. It was during the summer, of course, when the TV broke which made it a long summer. That was the time the kids could actually pick what they wanted to watch when the parents were at work. We were not supposed to watch soap operas though. I watched soap operas a bit anyway during other summers when we had a TV but I didn’t like them much. I just watched them to see if there was any kissing action going on and usually there was. My Dad once said that the only thing they do on soap operas is make love and eat. I thought that was funny. In college I started watching Days of our Life with my suite mate and I followed it for some years when I could. Even then, there weren’t any ways to record a show or call up a show on demand so it was easy to miss the soap opera. I check on Days of Our Life now for a few minutes once or twice a year and I am always happy to see some of the same actors that were on the show many years ago. They still look great. They are still making love and eating all of the time.
One year at Christmas, Dad had to work on Christmas Day at a little store. It was a horrible thing actually. Dad loved Christmas and it was so sad that he had to work that day. It was not all bad though. He won a little TV set for selling a record number of Cokes so we got a new television for Christmas. We also got a carton of Cokes! My Dad was awesome. Maybe he didn’t win the TV or the cokes. It may have been Dad’s way of avoiding having to answer to Mom for buying these items. Dad always made Christmas marvelous.
What I remember most was eating dinner every night for many years while listening to the news which was mostly about Vietnam. It was awful to hear about the body count and to see the wounded soldiers and also to see the caskets coming off of the airplanes. It was an every evening thing. It was dreadful and yet, I am mighty glad I was able to witness this history. I think if wars today were televised complete with the images of caskets, it would help end the wars more quickly. People need to know what the soldiers are facing and what they have sacrificed for our country. They are all heroes. Our country should witness our wars. It should bother us. We should be uncomfortable sitting around eating a nice meal while our young people are dying for us.
I remember watching the funeral of JFK. I remember watching JFK and his beautiful wife, Jackie, before he was killed too. I was walking with my first grade class around the playground when I learned that our beloved President had been killed. One of my little classmates fainted. It was a terribly dark time. I recall watching how Ruby shot Oswald on television. It was all a nightmare. I remember Dr. King’s murder and Bobby Kennedy’s as well.
The Civil Rights Movement was on television and I watched the riots and speeches. I heard Dr. King’s speech about Having a Dream and I got goose bumps. I still get goose bumps when I hear that speech.
Watergate happened when I was in high school. I watched it nonstop. I was amazed by the whole process. John Dean was so interesting. It was shocking what he said but I knew it was history in the making. I remember his pretty wife sitting behind him. I used to have arguments with my history teacher about Richard Nixon. I was not a fan of Nixon so it was a fascinating time. A sad but fascinating time.
There were some things on television that I really did not like. I watched The Twilight Zone but my parents should have blocked that. It frightened me terribly. I had nightmares from watching that show. There also was a movie that I watched that was creepy…The Birds. It was so gross with all of those birds attacking people and picking at their eyes. My brother stood up on the couch and jumped down to scare me while I was watching that movie. He was successful. He also broke the couch.
Television changed mountain life. I think it helped us learn how to speak differently. Old Mountain language began to decline. We started to behave and think differently. The world came into our living rooms and the visual images had a tremendous impact. I think I learned how to dress and act like a hippie from seeing hippies on television. I wasn’t much of a hippie, but I loved hip hugger jeans and all of that stuff. I even had a pair of go-go boots like I saw young women wearing on Laugh In. I learned to appreciate wonderful music from watching Soul Train. It was just a new world that opened up to my generation due to the television. There is a sad feeling that a lot of mountain ways have been lost in the last 50 years but there is something wonderful about being better connected to the world.
A young man from this family who spoke Old English was quite amazing. His language was very tricky to follow but he got so he was known and loved by everyone in the community. He would walk to houses and offer to do chores in exchange for some food and a little money. He would mow yards mostly but he cleaned, chopped wood, worked in gardens and did all kinds of stuff. He became invaluable to many, many people. This wonderful young man was as strong as a mule and he worked like a mule. His fees for working all day long might be two dollars. What was critical though was his payment always included a meal and he was very particular about his meal. He only ate three things: pinto beans, onions and chocolate cake. That is all he would eat. That is all he ever ate. It is all he will eat now. People never had a lot of money to hire help but all were willing to give up a couple of dollars in exchange for such hard work. Everyone always had pinto beans and onions anyway so it was not a real hardship to meet his food requirements. Having the chocolate cake was not necessary but everyone knew he really liked chocolate cake as part of the deal. This man worked for years and years helping people. His fees went up a bit but the food requirement never changed.
This wonderful man is no longer able to work but some of his family took over the business. They are very aware of how to charge properly and they don’t require beans as part of the deal. They don’t speak Old English so much in public any more but they do speak it among themselves and with close friends. I like to think of them as being bilingual. I feel fortunate that I can slip into the old tongue with them when I see them from time to time.
Finding a creative way to earn money was always interesting in the mountains. There was another family that also was quite amazing. They spoke the Old English and lived in poverty too. What was neat about this family was that they were on television almost every weekend! Seriously. They would go to a wrestling show that was filmed about 60 miles away at the big city. They would walk at least part of the way to the city picking up pop bottles from the side of the road. These glass bottles could be turned in for money and they used that money to go see the fight, which was televised. I don’t think they could have walked the 60 miles so I suspect that they probably hitch hiked most of the way. Back then, it was not that abnormal or dangerous to hitch hike. It also was not unusual to find plenty of garbage, including pop bottles, along the roadside back during that era. Times have changed. I think it was Lady Bird Johnson who set up the clean up America campaign. Litter laws changed many things. It took pocket-money away from this family who used to enjoy being on TV watching a wrestling match. I miss seeing them wave and smile as the camera scanned the crowd. They were marvelous.
As a final little note, people who live or who have lived in the Appalachian Mountains pronounce Appalachia differently than all of the scholars and experts on Appalachia. The scholars say it like: Ap-a-lay-che-ah. Mountain people say: Ap-a-latch-a. City people you know. They try to correct the mountain people of course.
Happy Mountain Tales 