A friend of mine told me a couple of months ago that Appalachia is hot right now. The next big thing.
My eyebrows pulled together inadvertently, and I asked incredulously, “What?”
Turns out, she was right. I’ve been paying attention. Folks from all over are buying up Appalachian soaps, crafts, pottery, spirits, instruments, and even recipes to name a few. Seems that right now, you can tie a piece of baling twine around just about anything, call it Appalachian, and make a decent profit.
And here in Southwest Virginia, the tourists are coming in droves. And who can blame them? We have a lot to offer. They want to set their eyes on our mountains and rivers, walk our trails, fish our rivers, get a taste of our cuisine and throw back a swallow of real Appalachian living.
And for the most part, we welcome them. We are a lot of things. Tough, ornery, obstinate, and a little rough around the edges, but we’re not stingy. And we know our manners.
We’ll tell you how to get to the trail head, ask you to sit a spell and jaw for a while. And if you stop at the right house, you might even be welcomed for supper. And then we’ll send you on your way with a smile on our face that might even reach our eyes.
But that’s the watered down version of Appalachian living; 30 proof at best. And for most folks, that’s probably about as big a swig as they can handle.
What they say about mountain folks being suspicious of strangers is true. We can’t help it. It’s been bred in us. And in our defense, why wouldn’t we be? Who can name, in the history of Appalachia, a stranger that came bearing good tidings to the people of our mountains?
But these days that chip on our shoulders ain’t quite so big anymore. We’ve mellowed to the point where we’re downright civilized.
And let me tell you, it’s a hard pill to swallow. I’m so civilized that some days I feel like Huckleberry Finn, and this big global world is the Widow Douglas trying to “sivilize” me. I want to fight it, kicking and screaming, but I don’t. I plant a big smile on my face, bite my tongue when I have to, and get on with living like everybody else.
But I hear her voice. That mountain girl inside of me that wants to escape it all for a while. To go on the mountain where the rules are different, and most of the time, there are no rules at all.
Folks in my family, have been “going on the mountain” long before I was in this world, and I hope they continue to, long after I’m gone. And it’s more than just taking a walk in the woods. It’s a community. It’s a gathering place for us all. It’s a birthright.
A setting of adventures known by few and told by none. Ghosts, shut-ins, feuds, laughter, tears, guns, spirits, secrets; even bohemian orangutans. You wouldn’t believe half the stories, even if I told you.
But we are drawn to it. It calls us, and we answer. We continue to climb that steep incline, and explore her hollers. And on that mountain, we are more than civilized. We are a tribe. We are sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, cousins, and friends of people to be admired. We are royalty. We are free.
We are 100 proof.