Appalachian Americans have a language that’s all our own. In the late 90s I left my home in the Appalachian Mountains to find work. I went to Maryland and took a job as a framer in a prefab housing plant along with a group of people from my home area. Most of the people who were with me were people whom I had known for years and worked with before. We had pretty efficient crew and nearly tripled the production of the opposite shift. But the good folks in Maryland didn’t quite pick up on some of the Appalachian Dialect that we spoke among ourselves. It’s English language but we have a tendency to use archaic phrases that people outside of our Mountains “ain’t really able to get a handle on”. One such phrase is the word “Yonder”. When used in context it generally means “over there” and is normally accompanied by a subtle nod of the head towards the direction of the subject being spoken of. While working at the job site we had a supervisor who was raised near the coast and had never heard of the word yonder before. Bob was actually one of nicest people who I’ve ever met. He had lent his hammer out to one of the “hillbillies” who had left his at home and the worker misplaced it. Bob inquired as to the whereabouts of his favorite hammer and the reply came back that it was “yonder”. Puzzled by the answer but not wanting to look bad in the eyes of the Appalachian crew Bob began to search on his own. This quickly became a game with my coworkers. Each person asked about the hammer replied with “yonder”. After about an hour of searching Bob came to me and asked if I would please let him know which direction was “yonder”. I simply smiled and replied “Bob, everybody knows that yonder is the opposite of “nigh””. (meaning near by) I quickly went back to work hammering away at wall I was building. Poor Bob just stood there blinking. Eventually we let him off the hook by returning his beloved hammer along with buying his lunch.
Tag: story telling
When Sunshine Comes To Life
As I explore the little nooks and crannies of my Appalachian Mountains in late summer my eyes are bathed in wondrous beauty. The simple Black Eyed Susan abounds on the roadsides. Everywhere I look leaves me with the sense that setting sun left a piece of itself behind as it passed by. Or maybe that magical golden hue simply fell as part of the rain and took root as it soaked into the earth. However they got started, they bloomed and spread across the mountains like a living flame. Soon that fire will spread to the trees as summer ends in its grand finale of colors. For now, I have little drops of sunshine popping up everywhere.
Campfire
Summer is definitely in full swing in West Virginia. The smell of campfires and the sound of treefrogs are filling the evening air. The best thing about a campfire is the conversation that abounds as friends and family come together. Sometimes in the back of my warped imagination I can hear cave parents fussing with their cave kids that they will never be successful in life if they don’t stop sitting around the campfire all day. “You’re never going to be able to provide for your tribe if if you don’t stop playing in the fire and go out to learn how to be a hunter gatherer ! Says papa caveman. That child probably grew up to be the first blacksmith or Goldsmith. 😉 But I digress. The important thing was that the campfire was the center activities for untold millenia. It was the original social media. Charcoal from the fire was used to create artworks on cave walls and solidify the record of the stories told at the fire pit. Now that I think of it I have to wonder if any of those cave drawings are actually the first meme? You see, I don’t believe that humanity has really changed all that much since the beginning . Yes, our technology is more sophisticated and that has lead to more opportunities but our basic needs and drives are still the same . Come to think of it, we’re all not so different from each other today. Yes we have different styles and solutions to problems but it’s all problems that stem from the same basic needs. The internet is really just a very sophisticated campfire which we gather around to share stories and art. And hopefully make a friend or two.
Along with tonight post I do have some housekeeping to address. I have returned from to my Appalachian Mountains from a week at Oak Island North Carolina and I’m still selecting and editing the photos. If you’ve reached this article on Facebook the odds are that you clicked on a link that I have shared to one of the groups that have graciously allowed me to share to. Most of the time these groups are about life in Appalachia or specifically West Virginia. Because my Beach photos don’t really follow the theme of these groups you will only be able to see them from my Business page.
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Capturing A Dragon
The ancient Chinese told how dragons might be responsible for storms. The Aztecs had Quetzalcoatl. But the old timers in the eastern part of West Virginia told stories about the Snallygastor. A dragon in the New World. Even though the feature image shows a dragon-like impression in the texture of the clouds I’m not quite ready to lay responsibility of a storm on the existence of a “fearsome critter”. But it does seem to fuel the imagination. I can imagine a grandfather type character looking out from the shelter with children on his knee telling them all about the dragons as the storms pass. The story always has a happy ending and the children become so enthralled by the tale that they forget about the fear of thunder and lightning outside.
A Cloudy Day and A Tall Tale. (Or, How to Win A Liar’s Contest)
Some days it seems like a dark cloud just hanging over my head everywhere I go. I look up and there it is trying to look all innocent. The one in feature image is trying to disguise itself and look like a unicorn. “Pay no attention to me. I’m just a unicorn ” it says. But I know better. That cloud is just waiting for me to relax so it can rain all over me. But I wasn’t born yesterday and I’m not fooled by crafty shapeshifting. I keep my trusty oversized army surplus poncho close at hand. As I turned to open the door of my truck to retrieve my camera a cold wet sensation is felt on the back of my neck. A single raindrop runs down towards the collar of my shirt trying to find the best place to spread it’s chill. With cat like reflexes my hand moves on it’s own to close off all entry points. The other hand finds the umbrella and in one motion I spin around to face my attacker. The spring loaded umbrella pops open with blinding speed. Whump! Defiantly I glare at this nebulous aggressor from behind my nylon shield. Okay sucker, you asked for it. It’s well known among Frontiersman that Davey Crockett once grinned down a bear. Nothing, no force of nature can resist the power of such a grin. Now, I don’t know if it was the spirit of old Davey Crockett channeling through me or if my grin is really just that silly but when when I sprang from behind my umbrella and grinned at that cloud something happened. At first I thought it was thunder. Then I realized that the cloud was beginning to snicker. Just a little at first but I kept grinning. Then, the cloud just couldn’t hold back any longer. That cloud let out a full on belly laugh! In fact it laughed so hard that it wet itself all out into the river and is passing through Mississippi on it’s way to the Gulf of Mexico even as you read this post! I know it’s hard to believe me but you can ask the blind man. He witnessed the whole thing. 😉
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