Trigger Warning: Elements of this article include discussions of violence and slavery. Have you ever heard a story about an ancestor who did something so bad it became local legend? Or where half of a community considered that ancestor a hero and the other half believed that person was aContinue Reading
The day I spotted the help wanted ad I was three years into a dead-end job relocating displaced families for the Tennessee Department of Transportation. My low-paid position was a stepping-stone to nowhere; Tennessee’s unofficial motto, as 49th in state pay, was “thank God for Mississippi.” The regional boss, aContinue Reading
As the young woman walks away, Tim points to my beer, “You’re almost done with that. I’ll get you another. You’ll want it for what I am about to tell you.” “Great. Thanks!” I holler as I throw back my first gooey cheese stick. I’m enjoying the conversation and wonderingContinue Reading
I like watching birds in the rain. I’ve a good view of some crows now as a steady patter falls and splatters over the Appalachian Mountains on a chilly, wet, dreary, mid-October afternoon. The rain fell heavy in the early morning, but, now the water lingers as a cool, constantContinue Reading
Growing up in the shadow of Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga, Tennessee, a city socially stratified according to altitude, I fell under the spell of native author Christine Noble Govan, whose specialty was children’s mystery novels set in or near the city’s scenic attractions. A prolific writer of more than 50Continue Reading
Our hike continues on in humid air with welcome breezes when, all of a sudden, I sense someone running behind me before hearing a terrified scream. “Ah!” Katie yelps. “Oh my God, Casey! Help!” I’m in the lead of our pack, but, startled, I turn around to my wife. Katie’sContinue Reading
“Do you have it?” Aunt Debbie sounds hopeful and looks to Mom with a soft smile. “I do,” my mom whispers stoically, reaching her hand into her purse. Aunt Stephanie curiously watches as an old handkerchief, a memento of their Grandma Shorty, is carefully lifted for the three sisters toContinue Reading
All aficionados of Southern literature know that William Faulkner’s literary landscape was the alluvial soil of the Mississippi Delta, the author’s “postage stamp corner of the world,” in his own memorable phrase. However, Faulkner’s biographers often overlook or downplay his connections to Tennessee. For instance, Faulkner’s great-grandfather and namesake,Continue Reading
I am genuinely amazed when outsiders view Appalachian people as nothing more than incestuous (or inbred), uneducated (or lacking), violent, “pillbillies,” (also here and here). To a good portion of people, we are poverty porn, and a host of caricatures. These views are psychologically brutal and personal. And we doContinue Reading
The absence of regional, independent bookstores in Appalachia and the South is similar to an urban sprawl in a bone-dry, flowerless space. We are all, in one way or another, readers for life. And readers search for some kind of respite, or thirst for a more tangible knowledge, or craveContinue Reading
