There are events in every life that impact a person forever. Some of them happen when we are young. Some of them happen when we are older. But perhaps the most powerful are the ones which occur when we are teens- those crazy years when we stand on the brink of adulthood and try to keep hold of the carefree days of youth. Little do we know then that we are not as grown up as we think but gaining in our understanding of the world and people. It can be an awful time or a wonderful time depending on so many things.
For me it was a good time, in spite of family trauma and the typical awkwardness of a shy girl trying to figure out how to come out of her shell without getting clobbered by the world. I did find a place where I could be myself and enjoy myself at the same time. For me it was the group of friends I made in our church youth group.
One year the intern who was our youth pastor put together a trip to a small mining village in the heart of West Virginia. A friend of his was pastoring a little country church in the town of Upperglade. A group of a dozen teens from our church went down to help the church run their summer Bible club and to help paint two homes. My best friend (standing in the blue shirt above), myself (in the striped shirt on the left) and another friend (kneeling on the left) crammed our luggage, a couple guitars and ourselves into Sharon's (she was one of our advisors) little compact car and drove the 16 hour trip all in one day! I'll never forget all the laughter, singing along with the radio and the surprise of seeing a turkey farm with turkeys perched in the trees!
When we finally arrived in Upperglade, it was dinnertime and the church had put on a huge spaghetti dinner for us. Members of the congregation had opened their homes and two by two we were introduced to our hosts. Leslie and I went to stay with a wonderful family who owned a small farm just outside Uppperglade. Once again we stuffed our things into a vehicle (this time a truck), piled into the cab and drove out to the farm. I will never forget the first time I stepped outside of that truck. The sun had set and night was well along. One little light was on by the front door and another in the window. At first I was thinking only of carrying my bag into the house and going to bed. It had been a LONG day. But for some reason I happened to look up. And for the first time I really saw the Milky Way. And what seemed like billions and billions of stars! It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen!
By day we were split into two groups and we painted the homes of some folks who could not afford to do it on their own but really needed the help. The home you see above housed a mother with 11 children (who reportedly all had different fathers). To get to the house you had to park your vehicle on the county road, walk down the embankment, cross the rope bridge, and then go up the other embankment. So all the paint cans, brushes, tarps and the ladder had to be carted to the house that way and taken away from the house that way. Talk about rustic!
The house had four rooms: the kitchen, the living room and two bedrooms. No, I did not forget the bathroom. That was OUTSIDE. This amazed me. Not because I had never seen or heard of an outhouse, but because I didn't think that people still used them in connection with a home. I thought they were only used at campgrounds! It was pretty tricky painting this house with 9 children running around (two of them were in their teens and worked at a fast-food place in the next town over), and bees' nests in the eaves, but we did it and we felt really good because we'd had fun (especially when it came to crossing the rope bridge!) and were a big help to this woman who was trying to turn her life around. In the evening we'd go to the church as a group and lead the children in games, songs, and Bible stories. And we had fun doing that too!
We spent some time getting to know the youth group from Upperglade as well. And as teens often do, we'd share our hopes and dreams as to "what we'd like to do with our lives". For many of us that meant going to college, getting a degree and then starting a career (even if we weren't exactly sure what discipline it would be in just yet). For many of them it meant get a job, get married and have children by 18. We marveled at those goals because in the 1970's of our modern suburbia homes the theme song was "I am Woman Hear Me Roar", not "Stand by Your Man". Not that I was a feminist (I wasn't!) but their joy in looking forward to what I might have deemed "the simple life" taught me that although our aspirations were different they were equally valuable.
Life on the farm was enlightening too. Mister B. (as I'll call him because I can't recall his name right now) not only worked the farm, he was also a miner. I will never forget his hands. He would come home from his shift and go to the sink to wash up but his hands, and although they were clean, they were permanently stained from the coal. He would humbly fold those strong and dark hands to say grace before the meal. "Lawd, we thank Thee for this meal. Amen." It was always short and to the point. They were perhaps the most beautiful hands I'd ever seen and the most eloquent words of respect.
Each day, Mrs. B. would pack a lunch for us. She'd make us sandwiches on homemade bread with a hefty spread of mayonnaise or butter (Now wheach one do y'all preee-fer?) and spam. With all of the healthy eating we do now, I'm sure someone would take it upon themselves to lecture her on the fat content of those sandwiches. But back then we could just enjoy them even if we hadn't thought of using Spam as lunch meat before! I can look back on that now and realize this was an enormous act of generosity. They lived mostly off the land, so store bought was a big deal. I'm sure they felt the "city kids" would be impressed with a "meat" (although calling Spam meat is highly suspicious!) sandwich. I am glad we recognized how excited Mrs. B. was to be our host and we never turned up our noses or complained. We just said thank you and were pleased to see her smile at our "good manners".
One morning as Mrs. B. was making sandwiches, Bill (pronounced Beal) her 10 year old son decided to "a-scare the city girls" and he brought a chicken into the kitchen and plopped her right on the breakfast table! The poor chicken was clucking its little beak off. Leslie and I were laughing our heads off! It was just too crazy and funny- a chicken on the breakfast table!! A live chicken, for that matter, on the breakfast table!
"Beal!!! You git that thang out of mayh kitchen faster than a pig in a poke or Daddy'll be tannin' yer hide tonight!!" Mrs. B. warned, waving the butter knife at him. Bill collected up the poor chicken who was almost in panic mode by now, and pouted on his way out of the kitchen.
"That boy!" sighed Mrs. B. as she went back to her task. Leslie and I giggled about that all day.
What a wonderful world expanding trip that was. I fell in love with West Virginia! I loved the mountains, the through the fog every morning. I loved the little farms that dotted the hillsides and the dark black star-filled skies of the night. I even loved the animals and learned how to milk a cow! I loved the people and their gentle accents. Well, that was a matter of debate.
"You city girls have a funny accent!" Bill declared one morning. We were shocked! We didn't have an accent!
"No we don't. You do!" Leslie replied.
"Say this," Bill challenged, "C-O-F-F-E-E"
" Coffee" Leslie said rolling her eyes. Silly 10 year old!
"Noooo! It's not caw-fee, it's kah-fee" The verbal Ping-Pong game went on including several more linguistic examples. But neither Bill or Leslie were willing to concede. But something finally dawned on me. "Look," I said recognizing no one was going to win this argument, "We all have an accent. It just depends on where you grow up as to which one you'll get."
Case closed.
We packed up at the end of the week and left the little town of Upperglade changed. We were more appreciative over what we had, the homes we lived in, and the blessings we'd been given in this life. We were able to articulate it? Not really, but it did show up in our behavior. As we climbed the first mountain in Sharon's little car (knowing full well we had another 16 trip ahead of us), the fog was heavy as it usually was in the early morning. But there was a very distinct moment when we burst through the dew near the top of the mountain and the sun was shining. Sharon had turned on the radio, and unbelievably at that very moment "Here Comes the Sun" came on. It was so perfect!
The following fall I met with my guidance counselor at school to discuss what colleges I might be interested in attending. "So what are you looking for in a school Ann?" Mr. Schenk asked.
"I want it to be in West Virginia" I answered.
And a thank you for you visits and the nice comments. I`m very pleased with them.
@salza Thanks Sally! Yes, she did not have a "good" reputation so to speak! The church however reached out to her in love, which is what they should do!!
@thistle Thank you Joyce!
@digitalrn Thank you Rick!
@kerristephens Thank you Kerri!
@pyrrhula Thank you Pyrrhula! No, I actually have tried to keep a dairy several times and have failed miserably! It is better when I write separate pieces to go with my pictures or special events. And yes, you are right, it is detailed because it made such a huge impact on me. I appreciate your faithful and kind comments as well!
@prttblues Thanks Bev! Well, having met you and talked with you, I'd have to say your New England accent is the predominant one just as my Jersey girl pronunciation always comes through on words like water and coffee. LOL But I did pick up a slight Southern twang from my four years at college and every now and then someone says, "Are you from the South?" It's fun to have a mixed accent, isn't it? Wow- you've got some stories too! Living in a bus and a cellar? That's tough but you survived!