West Virginia: My Home Among The Hills

I am often surprised by the amount of people who live in The United States that look at you with utter confusion when you say “I’m from West Virginia”. They usually respond with something along the lines of “You mean western Virginia?”, or “oh, I’ve been to Virginia!” No. I mean West Virginia, as in the state.

Caught between the northern and southern states and sandwiched between the east cost and the midwest is my home, The Mountain State. However, if you go expecting to see something something similar to the Rocky Mountains, you may be disappointed with the appearance of them. The mountains of West Virginia are more like rolling hills, friendly and welcoming. Much like the people who live there. Nestled between each mountain top are valleys which we affectionately call “hollers”. Most who live in these secluded dwellings have probably called that holler home their entire life, just like the generation before them, and the generation before that. West Virginia is a unique place in that way. Once you call it home, it stays home, even if only in your heart. For some reason, it just doesn’t act or feel like any of the other states in the union. It might be because there is a kindredness, a type of bond that comes along with calling these hills home. You only understand it if you understand it. I had the honor of living there the first 20 years of my life. And although I’ve been gone nearly 10 years now, its still home. Its mountains still call to me. Its people are still the dearest to my heart.

When you leave West Virginia after living there your entire life, and you encounter another WV native out in the wild, you’re instantly connected. You ask where they are from and when they tell you, you respond with something similar to “I have a cousin who lives there, do you know____?” And more often than not you get a “Yes! my best friend is their neighbor” Or something of the sort. West Virginia is like one big family. Somehow, as impossible as it seams everybody knows everybody. And everyone looks out for one another. If you’re like me and your entire family, on both sides, hails from there, then you really get what I am trying to say here.

If you were lucky enough to grow up spending the summers running around your grandparents farm, barefoot, chasing lightning bugs, and eating homemade pepperoni rolls then, in my opinion, you’ve lived my form of the American dream. My fondest memories are when as kids we would go to my grandparents house near Beckley. They owned a local Christmas tree farm and had the most beautiful view of the mountains from their backyard. We would sit on the back porch and eat popsicles, while my grandma would play “Mother May I” with us. On the Fourth of July we would always set up lawn chairs and watch the fireworks they set off at the armory on the next mountain over. But, of all holidays, Thanksgiving was my favorite. The whole family came to grandmas house for Thanksgiving. I swear you could smell all the goodness from miles away. We always ate halfway between lunch time and dinner time. But my favorite part of all was what happened after dinner. When all the cars started to pull up. Suddenly (in my eyes) my grandpa became the town hero. People eager to jump into the Christmas spirit were ready for their tree. On a handmade wooden sign in the shape of a Christmas tree at the end of the road were the words “U PICK I CUT”. My grandpa sold his trees for $10 each. He was a retired pastor, who couldn’t help but be ministry minded in everything he did. That tree farm was what you might call a “labor of love”. It was a love of working with his hands, a love of helping others, a love of what Christmas is all about. I think my grandpa really embodied the spirit of a West Virginian. His loyalty to his state ran and to the people of his state ran deep, like many WV natives.

Although a lot of people in The United States may fail to know about West Virginia, I have learned something while living overseas. The people of the world know West Virginia. Every time I am asked “where are you from in the states?” I respond “West Virginia”, then they get a big smile on their face. And they say “You mean like that beautiful song, Country Roads Take Me Home?” And with true West Virginia pride, my heart begins to sing and I have the honor of saying “Yes, just like the song.” Your hills are well known my WV friends, and your beauty is known throughout the world. Some of the lyrics go:

“Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong. West Virginia, Mountain Momma. Take me home, country roads. I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me.”

West Virginians understand what this really means, who she really is. The hills have a such a peace about them, they are Mountain Momma. She’s a West Virginian’s type of “mother earth”. I’ll never forget once when she beckoned to me. It was last Christmas. We had traveled to London to take in the city. It was cold and dark and we finally had a chance to get out our winter coats. It was drizzling a bit when we arrived to Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park so we decided to go to the German Pavilion to warm up for a bit. As we walked in, the band took to the stage. Then I heard a familiar tune begin to play. Suddenly, I was home for Christmas. The whole place erupted in cheers and began to sing along, they knew every word by heart. My family grinned from ear to ear and sang as loudly as we could “West Virginia, Mountain Momma. Take me home, country Roads.” Once a West Virginian, always a West Virginian.

Sometimes the name West Virginia gets a bad wrap, a negative connotation surrounding it. While some stereotypes might stem from a bit of truth, others are simply that way because of how Appalachia is portrayed in the mainstream media. I often wonder why this is? Why does my state get the short end of the stick when it comes to movie scripts or news articles? I very much doubt those that dream up these ideas for others entertainment have ever stepped foot on my beloved hills. I’m positive they have never sat and watched as the sunrise slipped over the mountains. I’m sure they’ve never hiked in any of our breathtaking state parks or sat by a quiet creek for a picnic. These are the joys of West Virginia. The simple things that those who are native from there haven’t forgotten for a moment. Life is still simple here and I hope that never changes. Stay easy, WV. Stay lovely, and sure. And please oh please, stay wild and wonderful.