"Frank Can You Fix My Leg?"

So why did we go to Appalachia? The big question. Yes, I am sure we all learned about ourselves and about others. I am sure we made new friends, and had great experiences, but what was it really all about. What was the big picture? My group had the privilege of working at the home of an eighteen year old boy who had been paralyzed in a biking accident. We were helping build him a deck and a new handicap ramp so he could get to his new bedroom and did not have to sleep in the living room anymore. On paper it sounds like a very sympathetic story and gets a lot of “aw’s” if you know what I mean, but I quickly learned that this was not the case at all. Robert was just like any other member of our group. Granted Robert was paralyzed, and he was not well off financially. He did not live in a large home, and he did have the best opportunities in life. Nonetheless, Robert was still your average teenager. He liked country music and talking to girls, he loved hunting and fishing, and he was always playing on the computer and watching TV. The biggest misconception that we were all sent to Appalachia with was the idea that we were going to be helping people we should feel sympathy for. However, this was not nearly the case, and I am sure that if Robert or his mother’s boyfriend Frank had thought this they would have been very offended. While we were working one day, Robert had taken his usual position on the deck surveying the scene as the rest of us worked away on the ramp. Then along came his obnoxious three legged dog Prince, who arrogantly perched himself upon the foot of Robert’s wheel chair as if the spot belonged to him by some sort of noble entitlement. He proceeded to obnoxiously knock Robert’s foot off where it dangled helplessly because he could not move it back up. “Frank can you fix my leg?” asked Robert annoyed. Frank began heading in the direction of Robert, but I was closer so I quickly hoisted his leg back into position, paused for just a moment where I felt something click in my head, and then continued working. In that moment it had hit me why we were there. We weren’t there to help Robert because we felt bad for him. We didn’t travel nine hours to Appalachia to look around and see how poor people were and talk about it to make ourselves feel better and feel like we made a difference. The fact is everybody no matter what situation they come from needs help at some point. Every human being is reliant on assistance at some moment in our lives no matter how brief or insignificant it may be. Robert was not ashamed to ask for a little help lifting his leg nor should he be. He was just your average teenage boy who needed a helping hand. We are a codependent race, humans. We need each other. As Frank spoke to us about his past, where he’d been, what he’d seen, and the people he’d met he began talking about meeting Robert’s mother and how he had come to Buchanan County. As he spoke of Robert and his mother he made a profound statement. He said, “You know kids, if I was still single I’d be rich. If I hadn’t met Robert’s mom I’d have a lot of money. I’d have a lot of money, but I wouldn’t really ‘have’ anything at all.” Frank had traveled the world. He had seen and done just about everything, but it took him coming to Buchanan County, Virginia to find what really mattered in life. We didn’t go to Appalachia to talk about the big bad coal companies, to see the poverty stricken neighborhoods, or even to learn how to square dance. We went to Buchanan County to stretch out a helping hand to a friend who needed one, to learn what was really important, and to meet some people that would change our lives.

 

The Beauty of It All

As we drove into Buchanan County the mountains seemed to rise up from underneath us. The autumn leaves were just beginning to dot the wooded canvas with accents of yellows, oranges, and reds. We couldn’t have picked a better time to visit the Appalachian range. As you drove into civilization however, the mountains were bordered by lines of rundown shops and houses with their windows long since boarded up. It was apparent that the place at one point had flourished economically and boomed with life. It was easy to picture the scene from the past with women walking to the store to pick up their daily groceries and the kids playing together on the side of the street. There were no kids playing by the street anymore, only the traditional Pepsi sign hanging crookedly by its one remaining hinge. Hanging on like the town appeared to be. The scene was indeed depressing, but we had our hopes restored when we were taken to the Breaks Interstate Park. It had been recommended by basically everyone we talked to and rightfully so. Our guide was Ed the schoolteacher who I wrote of before. He was beaming with life when we met him and was clearly excited to show us this Appalachian paradise. He took us to a few look out points where the mountains appeared to fade endlessly into the horizon, streams ducked and dodged there way through the nooks and valleys, and cliffs shot up like giants looming over it all. He told us that many people called the park the Grand Canyon of the East, and having been to both I would say that the Breaks have a certain degree of beauty added by the trees that the Grand Canyon lacks. Ed told us stories about the families that use to live in the area: how they got by on making moonshine. He told us about battles that occurred nearby during the civil war and other events that took place in the area. As we hiked through the park it was evident why people had moved to the area originally. Mother Nature was in her finest element in this park. It was obvious how people had fallen in love with the jagged rock faces, the trees that just brushed the skies, and wildlife that scampered constantly through the shadows. There was something so brilliant in the nature of it all, as if this was one of few areas that remained pure and untouched. It was obvious why the people of Appalachia had fallen in love with the mountains and why they were so willing to fight to keep them as beautiful as ever. 

Get Your Square Dance On

We Like to Party

I cannot tell you that our trip was full of hard work all the time. On the contrary, I often felt that we were on vacation rather than being on a service trip. At night we had the privilege of being acclimated to some of the more the stereotypical Appalachian past times: square dancing and blue grass music. We learned how to square dance with a group of elderly Appalachian men and women who met every week. They were full of spirit and showed their excitement to have us there. The blue grass music we listened to was also played by a group of middle aged and elderly men and women who met every week. Although our group had an amazing time, we noticed a trend in the age of the participants in these particular past times: a trend that we later discussed with Robert. It turns out that these past times are exactly that, past times. Your average Appalachian teenager most likely does not square dance or even like blue grass music. In all respects, the average Appalachian teenager in Buchanan County did not sound much different than a teenager you would find anywhere else. Granted, hunting is much more prevalent in Appalachia than most places, but teenagers have fun doing some of the same things that kids from the city do and some things that I wish I could do personally. Teenagers’ activities consist of seeing movies, hunting and camping, riding ATV’s and dirt bikes, and having parties in the woods. Robert told us stories about how he and his friends would entertain themselves that pretty much always involved some degree of illegal mischief, a property I viewed as reflective of my own teenage years. After his accident, Robert was obviously limited in the amount of these activities that he could participate. However, he made the best out of his situation. Robert with the help of his mother’s boyfriend Frank continued to hunt. Robert did not hold a grudge as if he was mad at the world for his accident. Rather he embraced the enjoyment he could still find in activities like hunting and playing on his computer. Robert had a holster contraption fastened onto his motorized wheelchair so that he could go out everyday and go hunting. He loved to hunt and fish, and these activities were what kept him going everyday. He was persistent in asking us if we partied much at Notre Dame. He seemed particularly interested in this subject then exclaimed, “Yeah, I like to party.” Robert served as an inspiration. He refused to let his injury prevent him from living his life. I’m sure there were times when even Robert faltered, and there are times when anyone can forget to be grateful to be alive. It is our response to the challenges of life that defines our character. In the spirit of Robert’s inclination to party, when life hands you sour limes… make margaritas. 

Definition of Success

Interacting with the people of Buchanan County it was fairly obvious that they were not concerned with the luxuries of life. If you drove through the mountains, you would not see fancy luxury cars; you would see trucks because they were practical. You would not see large towering mansions; you would see humble homes because they were affordable. You would not see large pools or patios; you would see a simple deck. While talking to Robert, we learned that before his accident he had planned on working in the mines after high school. He was boasting to us that miners out of high school made upwards of twenty dollars per hour. He also informed us that miners with a significant amount of experience who know how to use the machinery could make close to ninety thousand dollars per year. For Robert this was considered a very suitable living. However, for many people at Notre Dame raising a family on a salary of $90,000 would be considered a less than luxurious lifestyle. The fact is this discrepancy arises from the way we are brought up. I believe the biggest misconception I had before going down to Buchanan County was that all the people we would be helping would be devastatingly poor. On the contrary, I discovered that most of the people there were content with their financial status.  The attitude in the depths of Appalachia is geared toward necessity rather than luxury. The people seemed generally content as long as they had a roof over there head, food to eat, and enough money get them through the day. These people were raised in an environment where there was no need for an excess of income. Thinking now about what we learned about the coal towns and how everything the miners bough was typically through the company store, the attitude makes sense. The idea for these people was never to try and make it to the top or make it big; the idea was to survive. The riches of life were not what they looked to enjoy. These people looked to survive, and then enjoyed what they had: family, friends, and the mountains. They did not dream of making money and moving to the city, or living in a big mansion. “City’s not for me,” Robert stated. “I’m a country boy. I like living out here.” It seemed that maybe these people were more sophisticated than us in realizing what was important in life rather than valuing the material.

Coal Country

As my group and I drove our van to our site location listening to the local country music station, we heard the stations slogan which went, “We’re you’re tristate Coal Country music station. Yeah, we’re that big, but you handle it.” As it turned out, this was an attitude that radiated through the mountains of Appalachia. The people of Buchanan county and I assume a significant amount of the south have a deep-rooted pride in their heritage and their way of life. The pride is visibly apparent by the amount of confederate flags that can still be found waving around Buchanan County. The pride was apparent in the tone of Robert’s voice as he boasted to us about the opportunities that coal miners had to make an amazing living as far as he was concerned. The pride was most apparent however in our group’s encounter with an elderly gentleman named Ed. Ed was schoolteacher and most likely one of the better-educated men in the area. Our entire sight had the privilege of viewing the Breaks Interstate Park with Ed and listening to the stories he had to tell. Ed told us one story about a girl who lived during the civil war who had rode her horse across and through the mountains warning her neighbors that the Yankees were coming. It was eccentric from my perspective trying to view this as a positive thing being from the north myself, but Ed’s eyes lit up as he told the story about the courageous young girl. It was apparent that Ed was very proud to tell the stories about the people that had come before him, and it was obvious that Ed was very proud of where he had come from. Ed had grown up in Buchanan County where his father and all his uncles had been coal miners. Ed had left Buchanan County to continue his education, but his pride and love for his home had brought him back. As Robert had said, “I wouldn’t wanna live anywhere else.”

Circle Talk

Culture Shock

Perhaps one of the first major realizations I made while in Buchanan County was the fact that human development is subject specifically to the environment in which we develop. It is difficult to say that there is right and wrong opinion of any issue, and that is because we only have available to us the knowledge and ideals with which we are presented in the formation of our opinions. As my group and I sat talking to Robert, for whom we were helping build a handicap ramp, it became fairly apparent that we had been raised with very different ideals and in a very different background. Robert recently turned eighteen years old so naturally someone in our group asked him if he would be voting. He laughed and responded light heartedly, “Man, I don’t know. Isn’t anyone to vote fur.” Then he aggressively inquired to us, “Ya’ll ain’t voting for Barack Obama are ya?” Awkwardly we laughed, and knowing what his response would be I decided to pursue the issue asking, “Why don’t you like Barack Obama?” Robert laughed and responded, “We don’t have a lot of blacks round here. To be honest, I just don’t really like blacks.” This was a response that anyone from my background would find very offensive, but the truth was just as Robert said that they really did not have many African Americans around where he lived. Robert had grown up in a southern culture, which was very sheltered from change, and racism was still ever present. Given the location of his residence tucked away in the mountains, his response was not all too surprising. However, we discussed the issue further with Robert indicating that we saw African American people to be complete equals and saw no difference between them and any Caucasian person. We explained to him that we had black friends, and he was very accepting of the idea. The fact is that these small towns in the mountains are still subject to ignorance that arises from their seclusion. The spread of ideas is not prevalent in some of these areas, and it is an issue that schools need to address. As a friend and schoolteacher who I will discuss later in this blog said, “Education is the key for these kids.”

Time to Reflect

There's a time to work, a time to experience, a time to get lost in it all, but we're back to reality and it's time to reflect. It's time to reflect on what we've seen, what we've learned, who we've touched, and who touched us. It goes without question that every group and every individual person has taken something wholly special and unique from our experiences in appalachia, so this blog will be dedicated to the experiences I had, the people I met, and the insights I gained. I promise to give the blunt truth of what I've seen, so maybe I should be apologizing ahead of time. This is appalachia.... uncensored. I hope you enjoy it.