Almost Heaven, West Virginia
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze
* * *
Last Sunday I told you about my first walkabout in Shepherdstown. December 1974. It was love at first sight. I settled in. I was happy. I called and told my mother. She wept. Not for joy.
What’s wrong, Mom?
I can’t believe that with all your education you’d want to live in West Virginia.
(My mother was born in Alabama and raised in Georgia. She left school after the eighth grade. She thought well-educated people were also “cultured” people. And she believed a college degree would take you anywhere you wanted to go. So why would I want to go to West Virginia of all places?)
That was the first time I was poignantly conscious of West Virginia’s national reputation as backward—shoeless, toothless, hopeless hillbillies.
If it helps, Mom, think of me as a missionary to these people.
(My mother admired missionaries who sacrificed comfort and safety to save the lost.)
Okay, she said. That helps.
Call me naive, but it had never occurred to me that one state might think itself superior to another. I was an American, not an Ohioan. And then I heard about Vermont over New Hampshire, Texas over New Mexico, and Virginia over West Virginia.
Knowing what others thought of us West Virginians made me a little defensive. And, at times, offensive.
So, you moved here from New Jersey, did you? Social climber, eh?
It shouldn’t matter where you’re from; it should only matter who you are. But still, if you’re visiting elsewhere and mention that you’re from West Virginia, you’ll notice a slight twinge of befuddlement.
Really? West Virginia?
Yes. World-renowned West Virginia. And what world-renowned state, pray tell, are you from?
Paula and I went around the world in late 2001. We visited 10 countries. In each country, people typically knew of only four states: New York (Statue of Liberty), Florida (Disney World), California (Hollywood), and West Virginia (“Country Roads”).
We heard “Country Roads” sung exuberantly in all 10 countries.
Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong, WEST VIRGINIA, MOUNTAIN MAMA, take me home, country roads.
West Virginia.
It’s wild. It’s wonderful. It’s home.
You’re welcome to visit and stay a while—as long as you check any delusional superiority at the border.
* * *
Next Sunday: What Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia’s wife said to me about West Virginia during a highbrow wedding reception in 1991.
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Featured photographs by Paula Tremba
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