The Term "Redneck"

Rednecks: most Americans think of them as low class white trash, usually a heavy drinker and tobacco user. But do you know the story of where the name actually manifested? In the mid 1900’s there was a war in southern West Virginia. It was between union coal workers and un-unionized coal companies. When the union decided to make all coal fields unionized, they tied a red bandana around there necks so they wouldn’t get shot by their own. Then, armed with only hunting rifles and shotguns, they stormed Blair Mountain in an effort to unionize Logan County, West Virginia. And so the term redneck came from union coal miners from of untold war over coal.      

-E

The Sounds of Appalachia

           What makes the sounds of Appalachia? Is it our history or the multiple cultures that make up Appalachia?  I think it is both or history and our culture: our music is like a story about the hard and good times the people in Appalachia went through. Without the diverse culture in Appalachia we wouldn’t have the sweet sounds of the region. Our main contributor to Appalachian music is the English and Scottish ballad tradition and Irish and Scottish fiddle music. Then we added the banjo from African American blues which added to the instrumental aspect of the Appalachian music and gave birth to an iconic symbol of Appalachia the banjo. Now you ask yourself how they found their inspiration for their songs. I think it was their isolation that made them write songs to cope with the 72 hour work week in the coal mine or the restless housekeeping. Their music had a powerful and constant compassion for hope and joy that would lighten the burden on these people. Their music was their inspiration to keep working and that life would get better. The songs of Appalachia have been carried down through the generations, which eventually gave way to our country's music today.

                                                                                                                         -L

Mountain Stage

                In our class, we have talked for weeks this year about how our region’s music gives our area a very distinct identity. Although I love to learn about music, I think it’s more important to actually witness the instruments and the voices that make us who we are. Since 1983, one of the most historic events in successfully producing and broadcasting Appalachian music is Mountain Stage.

                In 2009, Mountain Stage held its 700^th show. At least once a month, West Virginia Public Broadcasting and NPR broadcast two hours of music with the majority of it being music unique to our state. This Saturday, January 20^th Mountain Stage will hold a performance at the WVU Creative Arts Center. Some of the music might not pertain to our culture, but I doubt many will mind a small break from fiddles. Here’s a link to information on the concert.

-L

Conforming to the Nation

          Community used to be essential to the Appalachian Mountains. People would tell their stories through songs that had lyrics with meaning through the radio. People were religious going to small town community churches. Neighbors were seen more as family than distant relationships. Our generation of people in the Appalachian Mountains is slowly fading away from the Appalachian culture. Not many know their neighbors on a person level. Religion is on the back burner. The music of our society as a whole is meaningless. In the music of today, we don’t brag about our culture and the tales of it like they use to. We are also not as proud of our culture. We almost make fun of it through the media. Is there hope for our generation to return to the pride we had of being from Appalachia?

         Now, neighbors are like strangers. For the most part, we don’t reach out to others and keep to ourselves. Even some of Appalachian families are the same. From my own experience, I know I’m not close with my grandma that lives only ten minutes up the hill from me and I never call aunts or uncles to check on how they’re doing. My mom has always been close to her family. She has had a good relationship with all of her aunts, uncles, grandparents, and handful of cousins. Family was important more decades ago than now because of factors such as technology. Before, instead of sitting on a computer all day or watching television, families or neighbors would sit around playing cards or having big dinners. Today, it is so much more convenient to just text the person than to spend the time together building up strong relationships.

         The music the kids of Appalachia today listen to is not like the bluegrass from earlier 1900’s. We listen to gruesome rappers that rap about provocative subjects. Tales of what has happened around the mountains would be sung in song and dances would bring the people together. The older Appalachians would be disgusted to see today’s kids “dancing” which is actually grinding to their music. Every time my grandma gets in the Jeep with my mom and I, my mom turns down my radio station to mute because she doesn’t want my grandma to hear what I listen to. Even though the modern music is a national problem, the people of Appalachia are conforming to the nation.

         If you ask a group of people from Appalachia right now where there bible is, half of them would probably respond with the answer “I don’t know.” Religion use to be essential. Many people had bible verses memorized and sang songs about Christianity. God is not the main priority in a lot of people’s lives anymore in Appalachia. A person not going to church is more of an occurrence. I’m not saying people do not go to church anymore because some still do. Many just don’t make their religion about of their everyday lives. Most of Appalachia use to be Christianity. Today, I can’t write “Merry Christmas!” on a receipt at work to give to a customer without people getting offended.

          Instead of taking pride of the Appalachian in our blood, we generally tease about it through media.

I always see documentaries of middle-aged to elders talking about why they are attached to the Appalachian Mountains. The kids to young adults of 2013 make TV shows such as Buckwild making fun of the dirty rednecks in Southern West Virginia promoting our stereotype. If I ask one of my friends about their plans after college, I guarantee they would say “to get away from here.” Not many people have an emotional tie to the hills here in Appalachia.

          I feel like the Appalachian culture is slowly loosing the factors that made it special like it once was. With technology advancement, relationships won’t consume as much time and social skills will get worse. With the new trends of vulgar rap, our culture will blend in with whatever is the new fad. As more bad things happen to society, people will question religion more and the diverseness of the people will bring in new beliefs. The Appalachian culture isn’t what it once was.

-M

Anarchy in Appalachia

The Encyclopedia of Brittanica describes anarchy as "the name given to a principle or theory of life and conduct under which society is conceived without government - harmony in such a society being obtained, not by submission to law, or by obedience to any authority, but by free agreements concluded between the various groups..."

After having recently watched a three-part documentary, The Appalachians,  I couldn’t let go of a certain  hypothetical situation stuck in my head. To be honest, the closer and closer I get to explaining and writing about it, I’m realizing just how weird but relatively possible it actually is. Out of every other state, wouldn’t West Virginia be the best bet for surviving and possibly thriving in anarchy?

Yeah, sure, of course it would! Who else could? New Jersey?

The Appalachians went over the history, culture, and life of the mountains and the people who lived there. As I watched, it occurred to me how stubbornly self-sufficient, cunning, daring, willful, and enduring the people who live here are.  From the state turning into a battleground that pitted brother against brother during the Civil War, to the infamous family feuds, to the coal wars, and to insufferable poverty with little to no federal help until the New Deal, it isn’t as if West Virginia hasn’t lived in and out of anarchical rule during its time. We’ve done it before, and we’d be able to do it again
(excluding the out-of-state college kids).We are a part of the United States but also a completely separate entity. So if West Virginia fell into anarchy, we would survive and thrive better than anyone else possible could (although Minnesota and Wisconsin would give us a good run for our money).

-R

Sid Hatfield

I was waiting on a woman at work the other day who was visiting from out West; she mentioned being a relative of Sid Hatfield. Images of his role in Matewan and fading pictures of his toothy grin rose to the forefront of my mind. Sid Hatfield was a pretty cool guy!

Born May 15 (we’re birthday buddies!), 1893 in Pike County, Kentucky, and assassinated August 1, 1921, in Welch, West Virginia, Sid Hatfield died quite young. He had only 28 years under his belt, but he still managed to leave a legacy behind.

He was born William Sidney Hatfield, but he was better known as Sid, Smilin’ Sid, and Two-Gun Sid. Hatfield grew up like most Mountain Men of his time: a miner. Throughout his teen years he mined coal, but later he changed professions and become a blacksmith. However, when union activity began to infiltrate Matewan, he had yet another career change when the mayor of Matewan, Mayor Testerman, appointed him police chief to help protect the town from the thugs from the Baldwin Felts Detective Agency.

This was an interesting decision, placing Smilin’ Sid who was only 5’ 4” (we’re also both tiny! I’m only 4’ 11”!) and probably only weighed 125lbs…soaking wet. Nevertheless he was respected by the people and did a bang up job sending the thugs running for the hills (well flat land) with their tails between their legs; they didn’t call him Two-Gun Sid for nothin’.

Although he protected Matewan and made it possible for the union to eventually organize freely, in the end he couldn’t protect himself. He was gunned down on the courthouse steps in Welch the day he was meant to testify against the mining company and the Baldwin Felts. The bastards knew they would lose, so they shut him up, like downright cowards, shooting him while his back was turned. Lord knows they wouldn’t dare challenge him in a man’s fight.

Despite his premature, rather violent death, the memories of Sid Hatfield are happy ones. Few people remember a time where he wasn’t flashing that infamous, gold-capped smile, except when he was hunting thugs that is. I feel as though I can relate to Hatfield quite well; small, generally happy and kind, but don’t get on our bad side, because we can be somethin’ fearsome.

-C

New Year, Same Stereotypes

It’s 2013, and to celebrate it my high school band woke up at three in the morning to march five and a half miles in the Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena, California. It was a great honor to represent West Virginia in the parade, and spending a week in Los Angeles was amazing! Before we left for the trip, we were warned about some of the comments we might receive from the westerners. I mentally prepared for this, but mostly everyone was really nice. Mostly. We did run into a few people that made the stereotypes I’d learned about in class realistic.

We were eating lunch outside with some of the other bands before Bandfest, a band spectacular featuring the bands in the Rose Parade. It was all great until we went to throw our boxes and cans away. Some of the women supervising us watched as we threw our food away, and asked if we would please take our cans over to the recycling area. We said okay, even though mine still had soda in it. A few minutes later, some more of our students went to throw their garbage away and the lady rudely said “Um, in California, we recycle.” This of course got some of us amused enough to ask about the origins of recycling. “What’s recycle?” “Is it when you ride a bicycle for the second time?” What was even more amusing was that the woman actually took the time to explain to some of us what recycling was. We laughed about the incident throughout the evening. Perhaps we overreacted, but it was astounding that she actually possessed the level of ignorance to think recycling was a foreign concept to us. If anyone reading this has never been to West Virginia, yes, we recycle. Yes, we actually care about the environment. Needless to say, though, my can ended up in the trash anyway.

On New Year’s Eve, we went to the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. It was beautiful, and out of respect our director had us dress nicely. A really neat thing we got to do there was eat lunch in an area near the former Air Force One and Marine One. A few of my friends were on an elevator traveling to said area when a woman asked where they were from. When they replied “West Virginia”, the woman (who apparently does not have a proper mental filter) commented “Oh, so that’s why you’re dressed up; so you don’t look like hillbillies.” My friends were speechless the rest of the ride.

I do not know whether I am more offended by the comment, or more impressed that she, along with many others we encountered, knew that West Virginia was a state; unlike a waiter we had on New Year’s who could not comprehend that Virginia and West Virginia were two different states. Of course, there are probably other reasons to this than simple geography. My group and I were waiting in line to see an Aladdin show in Disneyland. Some men beside us noticed that our shirts said the name of the city and state and asked, “Morgantown. So, are you guys near where they’re filming Buckwild?” My automatic response was “No. That’s in the middle of nowhere.” I wanted him to get that it was not what West Virginia was like, but he probably laughed when he saw the episodes that were unfortunately staged in my city.

I knew some people only know the stereotypes from this area, but this trip gave me a good glimpse of how prominent they are still today. It made my passion to conquer them even greater.

                                                                                                                         -R

Loretta Lynn

One of the greatest female country singers in history is Loretta Lynn. Born on April 14^th, 1932, in Butcher Hollow, Kentucky, Lynn was the second of eight children. She grew up in a coal mining town because her dad worked in the mines. She was highly involved in music during her childhood, singing at churches and other local venues, but gave up after getting married at age 15 to Oliver Lynn, then 21-years-old. The couple had six children, four of them before Lynn turned 21.

Lynn’s musical career resurfaced when her husband bought her a Harmony guitar and she taught herself to play. Soon afterwards she formed her own band with her brother Jay Lee Webb and in 1960, signed with Zero Records. Her popularity soon rose and Lynn began releasing more and more songs and touring the country to promote country music. Not long after, Lynn started performing at the Grand Ole Opry, contributing to her acceptance into the group in 1962.

Some of Loretta’s most notable songs include “Coal Miner’s Daughter”, “Fist City”, “Don’t Come Home A’ Drinking (With Lovin’ on Your Mind)”, and “One’s on the Way.” She released some controversial songs, such as “The Pill”, about birth control; “Dear Uncle Sam”, in response to the Vietnam War; and “Rated ‘X’”, about the double standards of divorced women. In 1980 the film “Coal Miner’s Daughter” was released. Starring Sissy Spacek as Lynn, it was based on Lynn’s early life and rise to fame in the music business.

As a musician, I love going back to the roots of my culture to find inspiration for my music. Even though I’m not a huge fan of country music, I enjoy listening to the older country stars such as Loretta Lynn. It’s a great change from listening to the pop music of today and an excellent way to learn about a famous singer and her background. Her songs tell the story of her life and how she came to be the Grand Ole Opry legend she currently is today.

                                                                                    -C

Do you know where you're going to be buried?

One of the writers interviewed for an Appalachian documentary said that you need ask only one question to know whether someone is truly from the mountains: do you know where you’re going to be buried?

This is probably the truest thing I’ve ever heard. Actually, I had no idea until now that people outside don’t know or care where they’re going to be buried. That is just such an integral part of my family: you’re very German, you live near the rest of the family, you like cars, you get buried in the family plot. It’s tradition.

It seems to me that outside the mountains, no one holds any traditions. They work too hard at a life that moves too fast to know or care what their families may have done for generations before them. How many lie amongst strangers in big city burial grounds instead of resting by their own family in a quiet churchyard?

-M



Bluegrass

     Many believe that the music of Appalachia has remained unchanged for centuries, unwavering to the influences of today’s most popular genres. Some call it hillbilly music; others call it country, but are they really one in the same? Is country music still the sound of Appalachia? According to many who live in the Appalachian region, it is not the same. Country music has evolved, and keeps evolving to compete with pop and rock music. The natural sound of guitar, banjo, mandolin, and fiddle once filled every country song and album; however, these instruments have been, for the most part, replaced by electric instruments. Long gone are the days of old country when the music was free-flowing: a voice from the soul.

     While country had been switching to a more electric sound, a new subgenre called bluegrass emerged. Its origin is directly linked to the mid forties, when electric instruments were first being introduced. The main fan base of bluegrass consisted of those who liked the traditional style, over the popular style. Just like country, bluegrass was founded on mountain music, yet unlike country, bluegrass still follows its roots. It is a genre concrete in its relation to mountain music, a pure representation of times long gone. Should country music still be known as the sound of Appalachia? I feel like bluegrass is more deserving of that title.    

-S

Hollywood's Appalachia

                If anyone lives outside of Appalachia, they could tell you that it’s all about rednecks or hillbillies, country music on the banjo, and people without shoes.  Where do they get these ideas?  If anyone has ever been to northern West Virginia, they probably don’t get them from there.  Even in the southern part of the state, there are people who, yes, have shoes, and grand pianos, and could be the next big pop singer.  So, the big question is, where do they get the stereotypes?  One word: Hollywood. 

                My theory? Hollywood likes the attention the stereotypes give the region.  Negative or not, they like the attention, and feel like if Appalachia didn’t have a dramatic reason to be noticed, they wouldn’t be recognized at all.  Take the new series, Buckwild.  Most people have heard of it, but if a reader hasn’t seen it, it’s about college-age rednecks in southern West Virginia doing college-age “redneck” things, like having fights or making a pool in the back of a dump truck.  Sounds fun, right?

                When I moved to West Virginia, I saw that the people were completely normal.  Lots of the kids in my middle school had brand name clothes, and I met tons of smart people.  They acted more mature than the kids had in my school in Indiana.  They were really friendly, and since I was the new girl, everyone made an effort to reach out.  The proud stereotype of West Virginia friendliness is still around.  You’re probably wondering why there aren’t any movies or shows about the positives of Appalachia.  Actually, there are.  There’s a movie coming out soon that was filmed In West Virginia, about the hospitality and goodhearted personalities of the locals in a little town.  It shows how it’s not all about burning couches and drinking.  It shows the beauty of the mountains, and the slower pace of some of those little towns. 

                I think Hollywood needs to make a bigger effort to show how good Appalachia is.  Drinking and burning couches is just a small part of it, and mostly, that’s just for college.  Did you know that a bunch of kids who take part in those activities actually aren’t from West Virginia? They come from all over, specifically New Jersey.  Did you also know that Buckwild is scripted, and that some of the cast is from California? It’s been proven.  Think about that next time you watch the show!

-K

A Muse-less Blog Post

I’m feeling severely uninspired this morning. I think the thick fog outside has crawled into my ears and dampened my thoughts. Somewhere in my muddled mind I know there’s something important I could be writing about. I could talk about mining or the atrocity that is Buckwild or Appalachian culture or anything. But the nightly cobwebs have yet to clear from my mind and my muse has left a sign on the door that reads “Gone Fishing.” I hope it reels in a decent idea—and soon.

One of these days, my teacher is going to realize that no worthy piece of writing can be crafted first thing in the morning. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I’ve made this complaint before. And the truly unfortunate part of this whole thing is that I actually had a good idea for something to write about earlier in the week. I wrote it in my notebook—which is taking a nap in my locker on the third floor.

After reading my laments over lost muse, Mr. B has suggested writing about how the mountains produced this terrible fog that even now is as thick as proverbial pea soup and that may have contributed to the layer of ice over everything in town. I myself fell victim to this invisible predator. It was lurking on my steps this morning. Blinded by the fog, I didn’t see it until it leaped up, got under my feet like a cat, and sent me sliding down the stairs. Then I had to get up and skate my way to the car, where I collapsed into the chilly interior and nursed my wounded pride. And my injured leg. Which still aches. Just saying.

At least I was lucky enough to be forewarned about the presence of the ice. My mom came shuffling out of her bedroom this morning, twenty minutes after I had tried unsuccessfully to wake her up, dressed in her fuzzy robe with her dog in one arm, and proclaimed that there had already been several accidents due to the slippery roads. When confronted with raised eyebrows, she added that she had heard it on the radio while in her semi-conscious state. They say knowledge is power. Today, it didn’t do us much good.

--Written Thursday, 1/10

So last week I was lamenting the not-so-pleasant weather. This week I’m lamenting that we’re back to icky coldness after a wonderfully warm weekend. I didn’t care that there wasn’t any sun. I wasn’t even bothered by the fact it was supposed to rain. Because for two days, it was deliciously warm. Warm enough that I only needed a light jacket. Warmer outside than inside the house. Warm enough that I could take a walk without my frozen nose dropping off my face, where it would shatter on the ground.

I love West Virginia. I really do. But I cannot describe to you how much I hate winters in the mountains. It’s pretty and pristine and glimmering and pure and blindingly white—and it’s also colder than the pits of Tartarus. And I don’t do cold. At all.

Suffice it to say I am more than ready to shake off the winter chill and dive into summer. Maybe when it warms up, my muse will let me go fishing with it…

--Completed Monday, 1/14

--J