Grumpy opinions about everything.

Category: Appalachia

Reminiscences from growing up in Appalachia

What Is It About Ramps?

It is time for my annual reposting of the blog about ramps, a widely unappreciated source of air pollution in West Virginia.

For those of you who haven’t been blessed to live in Appalachia, ramps are a type of wild leek in the onion family. They have a very pungent flavor that is like a highly garlicky, sulfureous onion. They have a short season in the spring and are highly prized by those who enjoy them.

If you think politics can be contentious, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the disagreements about ramps. You either hate ramps or you love ramps. There is no middle ground and almost no one is neutral on the subject.

Those unfamiliar with ramps might think, “If you don’t like them, just don’t eat them.” Well, it’s just not that simple. If you think garlic or onions can give you bad breath, just standby.

Ramps may give you the harshest breath that you’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the worst part. The odor of ramps will radiate from your body for several days. Despite much folklore about the best ways to rid your body of the odor, the only thing that works is the passage of time.

I can remember many years ago when I was in school, kids who would eat too many ramps sometimes would be sent home because the odor was just too much to bear in a closed classroom. There were times when I thought eating ramps might be worth it if I got a day off school. Ultimately, I decided maybe school wasn’t so bad.

The spring of my senior year in high school a buddy and I decided to go to Richwood for the annual ramp festival. Richwood sits in a river valley and as we started down the hill, we could see a haze hanging over the town. As we got closer to the festival site I was almost driven back. I grew up in a town with several chemical plants so I thought I was used to bad odors in the air, but was I ever wrong. The only thing that kept us going was free beer. We had both just turned 18 and could legally drink.

Even the federal government has declared ramps to be a public nuisance. The editor of the Richwood weekly newspaper once mixed ramp juice with the ink for a special edition. The smell was so bad the post office refused to deliver the paper and destroyed all the copies in its possession.

People who love ramps talk about the many ways to cook them. In the spring in West Virginia restaurants seem to continuously look for new ways to present ramps during the few weeks that they are available. They have ramp burgers, ramp pimento cheese, ramp jelly and ramp omelets. There has even been the misguided ramp infused wine. It seems to me that most recipes involve ways to disguise the flavor of ramps.

It’s not just when they’re cooked that they put off this objectionable odor. Even raw they can be hard to deal with. I was out in the country with my brother and his wife when she decided to pick some ramps (leaves only, the bulb is left to grow next year’s crop). Let me say I was glad we drove out separately. He said it was at least three days before the smell of ramps was cleared from the car. He joked that while ramps may not be grounds for divorce, they certainly could be grounds for temporary separation.

If you love ramps, I hope you enjoy them. Just make sure everyone else has enough warning to avoid you during ramp season. And that is The Grumpy Doc’s opinion about ramps. Be sure and leave a comment with yours.

Things You May Not Know About George Washington

We all know a lot about George Washington. Or do we really? And is everything we think we know true? We all know he was the first president, but was he really? He was the commander in chief of the Continental Army, and there is no question about that. He is often called the father of his country. But did you know that he never had any children?
The fanciful tales about George Washington began to circulate while he was still alive. Everyone has heard the story of the chopping down of the cherry tree and how the young George Washington could not tell a lie and that he did it with his little hatchet. Did you know that this story was created for one of the first biographies circulated about George Washington? It was a best seller written by Parson Mason Weems who was more interested in promoting morality than in historical accuracy. We also have the story of how Washington threw a silver dollar across the Potomac. Even though money went further in those days, it is unlikely since the river is about a mile wide at that point.

Presidential Dentures


We’ve all heard how Washington had wooden false teeth. It’s true that he had false teeth; he suffered with dental problems his entire life. But they weren’t made of wood. Washington began to lose his teeth in his early 20s. He had several sets of dentures made throughout his life, including one that incorporated hippopotamus ivory. He also had a set that incorporated human teeth. In the 18th century dentists were known to purchase healthy teeth from living donors who were in need of cash. The dentist would then incorporate these teeth into dentures for their clients. The dentures were cumbersome things that involved metal plates and gold wiring. Can you imagine having these in your mouth?

The First Entrepreneur
George Washington owned and operated one of the largest commercial distilleries in the early United States. Following his presidency, he began work on his distillery at Mount Vernon. He produced mostly rye whiskey, and it was quite profitable. So, not only was Washington first in war and first in peace but he was first in cocktails as well. (That makes him even more of a hero to me!) Margie and I visited Washington’s distillery as recreated at Mount Vernon. I even bought a bottle of his Mount Vernon whiskey that you can see below on my bookcase.

I haven’t yet tried it. The distiller told me it was considered to be very smooth for its day. When I asked him what we would consider it in our day, he said “Pretty rough.” Perhaps some year, on the anniversary of the Battle of Brooklyn Heights, I’ll use it to make a Mount Vernon Manhattan (or not).
Even though Washington owned a major distillery, rye whiskey was not his favorite drink. When at dinner or sitting around the fire with friends he enjoyed a glass of Madeira. It is a fortified wine made on the Portuguese island of Madeira. Washington began ordering Madeira from his London agents in 1759 and continued ordering throughout his life. He usually ordered wine in “pipes” of 150 gallons. He seldom traveled without a large supply of Madeira.
We’ve all been taught to think of George Washington as a planter. But now we know he was distiller as well. Will it surprise you to learn that he was also a commercial fisherman?
When tobacco prices started to fall, Washington looked for ways to diversify his income. He had almost 10 miles of shoreline on the Potomac River. He bought boats and nets and set his enslaved workers to the task of catching shad, herring, perch, and sturgeon. The fish were cleaned, packed in salt, and sold all over the colonies and even shipped to Europe. He went so far as to buy a sailing schooner that he used to ship his fish to such places as Portugal and Jamaica.

A Mountaineer?

Would you believe that George Washington was once a major landowner in what is now West Virginia? Washington received major land grants for his service in the French and Indian war and he also purchased grants from others who were not interested in developing their wilderness land. He owned land at the mouth of the Kanawha River in the area that is now Point Pleasant, West Virginia. He also owned land along the Kanawha River from the mouth of Coal River up to the area that now includes Charleston. So, we can honestly say George Washington was a West Virginian.

The Traveler?
George Washington only made one trip out of what would become the United States. He had been largely raised by his older half-brother Lawrence after his father died. Lawrence had been suffering from tuberculosis and was advised to spend the winter in the tropics. Nineteen-year-old George agreed to go with him on a trip to Barbados. Two important things happened while he was there. He had the opportunity to meet British Army officers and study fortifications and learn about British military armaments and drill. This was the beginning of his lifelong love of all things military.
But perhaps the most important and least well-known portion of this trip was that Washington contracted and recovered from smallpox, leaving him with lifelong immunity. Smallpox had ravaged the colonies for several years and was devastating many units of the Continental Army. Imagine the fate of the revolution had Washington died of smallpox in 1777.
As a result of the epidemic, he issued one of the first public health orders from the American government. He ordered that all recruits arriving in Philadelphia for the Continental Army be inoculated against smallpox. This practice was soon spread across all colonies and even veteran soldiers who had not yet had smallpox were inoculated.
There are many more fascinating things about George Washington, and I will include them in a future post entitled Even More Things You May Not Have Known About George Washington.

The First Question and Final Answer
In case you think I’ve forgotten my question about the first president, Washington was the first president, under the constitution. However, prior to the adoption of the Constitution, while under the Articles of Confederation there were eight men who held the title of President of the Congress and whom some historians consider to be Presidents of the United States. But, unless you’re a true history nerd, you’ve never heard of John Hanson, first president under the Articles of Confederation. It’s The Grumpy Doc’s opinion that his lack of accomplishments earned him his well deserved obscurity.

For even more interesting facts about Washington, see the website www.MountVernon.org.

Ramps Redux

The advent of spring in Appalachia brings about another ramp season and with it all things ramp. I’ve decided to get lazy today and repost my blog from May 2021.

What Is It About Ramps?

Continuing my reminiscences about growing up in West Virginia I’m going to visit the subject of ramps. For those of you who haven’t been blessed to live in Appalachia, ramps are a type of wild leek in the onion family. They have a very pungent flavor that is like a highly garlicky, sulfureous onion.  They have a short season in the spring and are highly prized by those who enjoy them.

If you think politics can be contentious, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the disagreements about ramps. You either hate ramps or you love ramps. There is no middle ground and almost no one is neutral on the subject.

Those unfamiliar with ramps might think, “If you don’t like them, just don’t eat them.”  Well, it’s just not that simple. If you think garlic or onions can give you bad breath, just standby.

Ramps may give you the harshest breath that you’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the worst part.  The odor of ramps will radiate from your body for several days.  Despite much folklore about the best ways to rid your body of the odor, the only thing that works is the passage of time.

I can remember many years ago when I was in school, kids who would eat too many ramps sometimes would be sent home because the odor was just too much to bear in a closed classroom. There were times when I thought eating ramps might be worth it if I got a day off school. Ultimately, I decided maybe school wasn’t so bad.

The spring of my senior year in high school a buddy and I decided to go to Richwood for the annual ramp festival.  Richwood sits in a river valley and as we started down the hill, we could see a haze hanging over the town.  As we got closer to the festival site I was almost driven back.  I grew up in a town with several chemical plants so I thought I was used to bad odors in the air, but was I ever wrong.  The only thing that kept us going was free beer.  We had both just turned 18 and could legally drink.

Even the federal government has declared ramps to be a public nuisance.  The editor of the Richwood weekly newspaper once mixed ramp juice with the ink for a special edition.  The smell was so bad the post office refused to deliver the paper and destroyed all the copies in its possession.

People who love ramps talk about the many ways to cook them. In the spring in West Virginia restaurants seem to continuously look for new ways to present ramps during the few weeks that they are available. They have ramp burgers, ramp pimento cheese, ramp jelly and ramp omelets. There has even been the misguided ramp infused wine.  It seems to me that most recipes involve ways to disguise the flavor of ramps.

It’s not just when they’re cooked that they put off this objectionable odor. Even raw they can be hard to deal with. I was out in the country with my brother and his wife when she decided to pick some ramps (leaves only, the bulb is left to grow next year’s crop). Let me say I was glad we drove out separately. He said it was at least three days before the smell of ramps was cleared from the car. He joked that while ramps may not be grounds for divorce, they certainly could be grounds for temporary separation.

If you love ramps, I hope you enjoy them. Just make sure everyone else has enough warning to avoid you during ramp season.  And that is The Grumpy Doc’s opinion about ramps.  Be sure and leave a comment with yours.

My Journey into Genealogy

My journey into genealogy began when I was in my early 60s, an age at which many people would already be calling me an ancestor. It’s not something I had ever been particularly interested in. I really had very little sense of my family history. At that time, I could name my grandparents and one of my great grandparents and the family name of some other great grandparents but little else. Of course, like everyone else, we all had our family lore such as the Cherokee Princess in the family but no real documentation of anything.

Margie’s first cousin Mary has been involved in the Daughters of the American Revolution for quite some time. She really encouraged Margie to become a member and in fact did her research and prepared her application. She asked me at the time if I had thought about joining the Sons of the American Revolution. I dismissed it as unlikely because another part of our family lore was that all our ancestors came over from Ireland during the potato famine of the mid-1800s. Like much family lore, this tended to have little basis in fact and the only ancestor I have been able to document as having arrived from Ireland in the mid-1800s was not a Turley but a Kanary, another name that I had never heard before I started my journey.

Margie’s other first cousin Barbie was also in the DAR and her husband Bob is in the SAR. Bob encouraged me to apply to the SAR, but I was convinced that there were no ancestors in my family who could trace back to the revolution. Bob said he would do the research for me if I wanted to join. My friend Dick also helped me start down this path.

Our mother had always said that she could have joined the DAR but never did. I always discounted this because she had several other family legends that she used to tell us. One of those legends was that we were related to Teddy Roosevelt. This was because her grandmother’s family name was Bullock and Teddy Roosevelt’s mother’s family name was Bulloch. I always felt this was highly unlikely for two reasons, first because the spelling was different but mostly because our Bullock ancestors were New Jersey Quaker farmers and Teddy’s ancestors were wealthy southern planters. However, despite the fact we weren’t related to Teddy, I was surprised to discover we had many ancestors who traced back to the revolutionary era on both sides of the family.

Bob did his research and found my ancestor with ties to the revolution. His name was Samuel Henry, yet another ancestor I had never been aware of. His support for the revolution came in the form of what is called patriotic public service. He served on a grand jury that was called into session by the revolutionary government of Virginia in defiance of the crown.

This got me interested in seeing if I had any other revolutionary ancestors. In specific, as a former Marine, I was looking for somebody with more manly service than a grand jury. I found my man, a Massachusetts farmer named Moses Nash who served in the Massachusetts militia as a Minuteman Lieutenant and my fourth great grandfather. Not one of the Lexington and Concord Minutemen, but a Minuteman, nonetheless. Well now I was on a roll. I thought if there are two, there must be more. My current count is eight ancestors whose service I have documented and another 19 who were living in the colonies during the revolution but for whom I have not yet documented service,

I had no idea that my family can be traced so far back into the United States. Specifically, I had no idea that a significant branch of my family has ties to colonial New England in Massachusetts, Vermont, and Connecticut. One branch of my family I have traced back to the 1620s in Massachusetts. It was fascinating to read the will of an ancestor who died in 1638. I’m now on the hunt for the Holy Grail of American genealogy, a Mayflower ancestor. Although it’s highly unlikely, it’s still an interesting search.

I did try to discover that Cherokee Princess. I found a handwritten family history that said my second great grandmother’s grandmother was a Cherokee. Why it was listed that way rather than naming her I’m not sure. I have done some research and I have not been able to document any Cherokees in her lineage unless they were named Adkins or Midkiff or Gillespie, none of which I believe are Indian names.

DNA testing has also failed to document any Native American heritage. Although after that many generations that is not completely exclusionary. The person in question is my fourth great grandmother and on average I have inherited only 1/64 of my DNA from her. It is possible that specific Native American markers were not included in that small segment of DNA I inherited. But when the lack of DNA evidence is added to the lack documentary evidence, I have to admit that I’m not descended from a Cherokee Princess. (By the way, I’ve always wondered why it’s never a Cherokee Prince.)

So how did those ancestors get from New England to West Virginia? Right after the revolution the new United States government was almost broke. Many revolutionary soldiers were paid with a land warrant giving them a grant on the western frontier. They moved from New England and the eastern seaboard states into Ohio, western Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and Tennessee. Generally, the lower the rank of the soldier the further West and the smaller his land warrant. But for men with no opportunity to own their own farms in the crowded eastern colonies, this was an opportunity they could not resist.

I have discovered a lot of things commonly believed about genealogy that appear to largely be mythology. There’s the story that the family’s name was changed at Ellis Island. If the family’s name was changed, either they did it themselves to appear more American or it was done on board ship before they arrived. At Ellis Island, ship manifests were copied into the arrival journal and no additional individual information was taken from the immigrants beyond a health examination and identification of a sponsor who would be responsible for them. Occasionally names may have been inadvertently changed later by a census taker who misunderstood or couldn’t spell ethnic names.

There’s also the “three brothers” story. This is a story where three brothers arrived from Ireland, England, Germany, take your choice, and then went to three different areas and that’s why there is significant name distribution. In fact, almost always when family members immigrated together, they tended to stay together as they moved further into the United States. DNA studies have demonstrated that most of the widely distributed name clusters have little close relationship.

If you want to find a quick and easy source of information about your family history, go to any of the major genealogy websites and look at census records. Depending on the year of the census you can find where your ancestors were born, if they could read or write, where their parents were born and what occupations they followed. It’s also surprising how large the families were. If you look at surrounding families, you can see that there are many clusters of relatives in the rural areas. Once they’ve moved into the cities they tend to be less often grouped together.

My favorite website is ancestry.com, but any of the major websites will have fascinating information. Just don’t accept everything on those web sites as factual. I have found many of the relationships listed to actually be an unrelated person of the same name. For example, in the early 1800s there were four John Turley’s in the Kanawha County area. Middle names weren’t common then and it took some research to figure out which one was my third great grandfather.

If you’re interested in genealogy, just get in touch with The Grumpy Doc and I’ll be glad to help you on your journey. Who knows, maybe we’re cousins.

Old Charleston

One of the problems of getting older is that we frequently descend into bouts of nostalgia. I’ve recently been thinking about “Old Charleston”. For me, that means Charleston of the 1950s and early 1960s. A time before I entered my cynical teenage years.

There were a lot of really nice things about growing up in Charleston. It was a small town and a very safe place to live. In the summer, our mothers just turned us loose to “go outside and play”.  As long as we were back by lunch they really didn’t care where we were or what we were doing because they knew we would be safe.

One of my favorite memories is the old Virginian Theater. It was a very ornately designed movie house with painted walls and ceilings and plush velvet covered seats. It was one of the first places in town that was air conditioned. There were signs on their marquee that said “It’s Cool Inside” with icicles dripping from the letters. In the middle of summer who wouldn’t want to go there? I can still remember standing in line for what seemed to be hours to see Old Yeller, a Disney movie about a stray dog. We sat in the balcony, ate popcorn and raisinets and loved every minute of it.

I also spent a lot of Saturday mornings at Skateland, a large roller-skating rink on Charleston’s west side. We would spend hours skating around and around. Often, we would slingshot each other so we could build up speed; this usually occured right before we crashed into a wall or went sprawling down the floor. I can remember when we younger kids were forced to leave the rink so that the older kids could do a couples skate. At the time I couldn’t imagine anything more disgusting. I also remember the great fun we had doing the hokey pokey on roller skates.

My grandmother used to take me to the lunch counter at the Diamond Department Store. It was a grown-up experience for me because even though it was called a lunch counter, women still dressed up in those days. I got my very own hamburger and a large Coca Cola, something that I didn’t frequently get at home. And it was just fun going shopping with grandmother.

A lot of summer days were spent at Rock Lake pool. I still think it may be one of the largest swimming pools I have ever seen. It’s possible though that it may have grown in my memory. It had large slides that must have been at least two stories tall. It had trapezes that allowed you to swing out over the water at least 15 feet in the air before letting loose and landing with a large splash. It was great to go home smelling of chlorine, worn out and sunburned.

There is one thing though that I don’t remember in any of those places in “Old Charleston”. And that’s African Americans. Charleston at that time was still partially segregated. Kanawha County schools were only integrated in 1956 and a lot of other things were still far behind. You would not think this would be the case in a state that was born of the Civil War.

The Virginian Theater and the Diamond lunch counter didn’t integrate until late 1950s or early 1960s. Skateland and Rock Lake pool both chose to close rather than to integrate. It amazes me now as I look back how naïve I was to not even recognize that this type of discrimination was occurring. While we have made progress, we still need to recognize that there is so much more that must be done.  The “New Charleston” should be a place where everyone is welcome and feels at home.

Brown Beans and Cornbread

Best Beans & Cornbread in Weest Virginia Winners (2019) | USA TODAY 10Best

I find it interesting that things take on more importance in retrospect than they had at the time. I grew up in West Virginia and I left the state when I was 19 and spent the next 21 years living in other parts of the country.

We moved back to West Virginia when I was accepted in medical school at Marshall. I found it interesting to discover that things I really didn’t remember as being part of the culture had somehow become iconic.

What most surprised me was brown beans and cornbread. Schools and churches had brown beans and cornbread suppers to raise funds. This was supposedly a West Virginia tradition. Unfortunately for me I really don’t remember it. 

I know we had cornbread and probably had brown beans.  I don’t remember them being linked together as the “classic” Appalachian dinner.  Although I must say it has become one of my favorite meals and I regret all those years I missed out on enjoying it.

This got me to thinking how many things that we consider traditional or “American” have only become so from the vantage point of looking backward.  Nostalgia minimizes faults and amplifies virtues.

Many things that were not so important at the time have become set in stone as an important part of our heritage. For example, collectors now pay a fortune for old toys that are considered to somehow represent a special bygone era. However, at the time, they were just toys. They were played with and discarded when the kids lost interest in them. Who has not said at one time or another, “I wish I still had my”, you fill in the blank here, be it the original Barbie doll, baseball cards or Star Trek toys. 

Speaking of Star Trek, let’s look at the series.  I’m sure this is where The Grumpy Doc may upset some people.

When you consider the entertainment dynasty that arose from the original Star Trek series it is hard to believe that it only lasted three seasons. It was initially cancelled after the second season and brought back for an additional season only after an aggressive letter writing campaign by fans.

If you look at the old shows, the stories were simplistic, the special effects were rudimentary, and the acting was over the top. Especially Captain Kirk, who could always find it within himself to over act in any scene. Yet somehow, after many movies and numerous spinoff series, we have come to regard this initial run as classic television. I will admit they made moral points on many episodes, but these were often heavy handed and  in-your-face moralizing.

 When we think of Great American literature one of the books we think of is The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. At the time of its initial release, it sold poorly. When Fitzgerald died, he considered himself to be a failure as a writer. It wasn’t until World War II when The Great Gatsby was one of the books printed and distributed to the troops, that it became popular. He is now considered an American icon and rightly so.

The same thing happens to politicians. These are people that we know and revere as great Americans and who have been subjected to near deification. These are people literally carved in stone, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln.  From the perspective of many years, we have come to believe that these men were universally loved, admired, and respected. However, during their lifetime they had many political and personal enemies who criticized them at great length and all three suffered through periods of declining popularity.

In future posts I’m going to discuss each of them in turn and look at how they were perceived during their lifetime as compared to how we perceive them now. Each deserves separate attention. Despite their flaws, each was vitally important to the America that we now know.

Equally as interesting are things that were once popular or considered important and are now almost completely unknown. I will be addressing those in a future post as well. 

One thing I will warn you about now, I have a great interest in historical trivia. The Grumpy Doc is really trying to understand how perceptions of previous generations have shaped current opinions about many aspects of society.  I will be sharing many of my thoughts on these issues. 

What is it about ramps?

Continuing my reminiscences about growing up in West Virginia I’m going to visit the subject of ramps. For those of you who haven’t been blessed to live in Appalachia, ramps are a type of wild leek in the onion family. They have a very pungent flavor that is like a highly garlicky, sulfureous onion.  They have a short season in the spring and are highly prized by those who enjoy them.

If you think politics can be contentious, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the disagreements about ramps. You either hate ramps or you love ramps. There is no middle ground and almost no one is neutral on the subject.

Those unfamiliar with ramps might think, “If you don’t like them, just don’t eat them.”  Well, it’s just not that simple. If you think garlic or onions can give you bad breath, just standby.

Ramps may give you the harshest breath that you’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the worst part.  The odor of ramps will radiate from your body for several days.  Despite much folklore about the best ways to rid your body of the odor, the only thing that works is the passage of time.

I can remember many years ago when I was in school, kids who would eat too many ramps sometimes would be sent home because the odor was just too much to bear in a closed classroom. There were times when I thought eating ramps might be worth it if I got a day off school. Ultimately, I decided maybe school wasn’t so bad.

The spring of my senior year in high school a buddy and I decided to go to Richwood for the annual ramp festival.  Richwood sits in a river valley and as we started down the hill, we could see a haze hanging over the town.  As we got closer to the festival site I was almost driven back.  I grew up in a town with several chemical plants so I thought I was used to bad odors in the air, but was I ever wrong.  The only thing that kept us going was free beer.  We had both just turned 18 and could legally drink.

Even the federal government has declared ramps to be a public nuisance.  The editor of the Richwood weekly newspaper once mixed ramp juice with the ink for a special edition.  The smell was so bad the post office refused to deliver the paper and destroyed all the copies in its possession.

People who love ramps talk about the many ways to cook them. In the spring in West Virginia restaurants seem to compete for new ways to prepare ramps during the few weeks they are available. They have ramp burgers, ramp pimento cheese, ramp jelly and ramp omelets. There has even been the misguided ramp infused wine.  It seems to me that most recipes involve ways to disguise the flavor of ramps.

It’s not just when they’re cooked that they put off an objectionable odor. Even raw they can be hard to deal with. I was out in the country with my brother and his wife when she decided to pick some ramps (leaves only, the bulb is left to grow next year’s crop). Let me say I was glad we drove out separately. He said it was at least three days before the smell of ramps was cleared from the car. He joked that while ramps may not be grounds for divorce, they certainly could be grounds for temporary separation.

If you love ramps, I hope you enjoy them. Just make sure everyone else has enough warning to avoid you during ramp season.  And that is The Grumpy Doc’s opinion about ramps.  Be sure and leave a comment with yours.

Growing up in Appalachia

I was born in West Virginia and spent my first 18 years living in its capital, Charleston.  In 1966 I left the state to go to college and didn’t return for more than a few months at a time until, at age 41, I brought my family back to West Virginia so that I could attend medical school.  It was then that I began to understand what growing up in Appalachia meant and how my experience differed from a great many Appalachians. In fact, I don’t believe that I really understood the concept of Appalachia as anything other than a geographic area until I was able to view it from the perspective of more than 20 years of living in various parts of the United States and in three different countries.

Charleston in the 1950s and 60s was a prosperous place and I had a comfortable middle class home life.  I had a vague awareness that there was poverty in the state, but it didn’t intrude on my life and I didn’t go looking for it.  It wasn’t just me, most of my friends shared this willful ignorance as we went on blissfully with lives untouched by depravation or despair.  In those years, the social activism that would arise among young people in the late 1960s was not yet born.  We were, as The Saturday Evening Post described, living in an oasis of luxury surrounded by poverty.  Though none of us would have described our lives as luxurious, I have come to realize that everything is relative.

It’s not as though we stayed in Charleston. We spent a lot of time camping, hunting and fishing. We drove all over the state but somehow never managed to really see it. At most we may have thought “What in the world do the people who live here do for fun?”  For most of us, West Virginia was a place to leave just as soon as we could and never look back.

My first year in college was at the University of Kentucky so I was still in the Appalachian environment. It wasn’t until 1967 when I enlisted in the Navy then I spent much time out of Appalachia and got to know people from all over the country. But I couldn’t help feeling vaguely defensive about being from West Virginia. I always felt that I was being thought of as the big dumb hillbilly. Nobody was seeing me; they were only seeing a stereotype. I’m sure that I was far more sensitive to this then any actual occurrence. I also know that there are many people who have suffered a whole lot more discrimination than what I imagined for myself.  No matter how misguided or self-centered my concerns were, I was left with the feeling of being not quite good enough or not quite being at the same level as other people. It wasn’t a feeling of intellectual or physical inferiority, it was more of a feeling of social inadequacy.

My late teens and early 20s were a time of mixed emotions. I had periods where I felt there was no point in bothering to try because I just wasn’t good enough mixed with periods where I intended to show those SOBs that I was better than they were. It wasn’t until I met my wife of now almost 50 years that I realized that if she loved me I must be a worthwhile person and I really didn’t require any other validation.

This is enough brooding remembrances for one setting. I’ll be back in the future more the reflections on growing up in Appalachia. But the next post is going to be more grumpy opinions.

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