But we all have Christmas and Holiday memories. This year, let us bring our Appalachian histories to the forefront and tell them to our families. Let us come together and tell new stories, too. My sincere hope is that we as a mountain society will . . . Continue Reading
Thank you, Appalachia, for all your creativity, talent, and beauty. We offer our heartfelt gratitude to you all, along with a steadfast commitment to remain a venue for the creative spirit in these mountains. We are so honored to . . . Continue Reading
Even though I’ve only lived in the South, I tried to make my own path in the world, from the East coast to the West coast, from my childhood to getting older, in between work to earning a living. The core values I gained from being raised on a farm guided me on a . . . Continue Reading
The attacks usually wouldn’t start until late, after midnight. There would be gunshots, the rhythmic thumping of mortar fire, and the whistling of heavy artillery. Either our base was under attack, or the air strip or some groups of men were getting fired upon. The sounds went on and on. Sometimes we saw red flares shoot up—a red alert—meaning the enemy had infiltrated our perimeter. Somewhere, close by, enemy soldiers were coming. The shelling . . . Continue Reading
“That’s all for now. Don’t pay me. You will be back. You will be back next year. You will be back after you start that new job,” she stated, taking another sip of the Southern Comfort.
I tried to pay her, but she vigorously refused to accept the five-dollar bill. As I was leaving, a brand-new . . . Continue Reading
I am seven. I lay in “my bedroom,” the spare bedroom at her house in Tazewell, Tennessee. Dusk settles down in the holler, and the only light shining through my window is from the moon. Earlier, I had . . . Continue Reading
The commander’s desk rattled; his military knick-knacks crashed to the floor. I watched, fascinated, as a crack widened on the opposite wall and the parking lot undulated outside the ground-level window . . . Continue Reading
As the funyak dropped on its side, it rapidly filled with water and soon flipped over, throwing me into the churning waters. Under I went even with a life jacked on. As I came to the surface I discovered that the funyak was on top of me, and since no amount of thrashing could get it off of me and I stayed under water. As my breath started to run out . . . Continue Reading
We work our way next through a scruffy zone of ironweed, oxeye daisies and Queen Anne’s lace, then plunge to shade under trees, passing through a smattering of jewelweed, poison ivy and monkey flower. Then, at last, in deep shade, we come to water . . . Continue Reading
Standing on the edge of the road and looking up and down the hill, there really was no road. Just debris and rubble, with no viable means of transportation. Many of the buildings on either side of the road were damaged. No water in sight. To me, it looked like a war zone. The street had been . . . Continue Reading