Over the weekend, CNN posted controversial photos from Appalachia. The collection opened with KKK members surrounding a burning cross. It went on to show snake handlers, religious fundamentalists, and shirtless men who looked strung out.
Those of us from Appalachia know that these images are the exception and sensational, but CNN sure didn't play them that way. The news channel said that the photographer was capturing "the everyday lives of the people of Appalachia."
Appalachian locals posted comments in the hundreds, most of them outraged:
"I am from the Appalachians and this is not everyday life. This is akin to racist stereotypes of African Americans before the civil rights movement. Repulsive."
"I've lived in the South for four decades and have seen exactly zero robed Klansmen and pretty much the same number of snake handlers."
"These pictures appear to be the result of an immature photographer from LA out to reinforce her smug stereotypes about the South. CNN why are you promoting this?"
Reading the comments and reviewing the photos, I also wondered what was this photographer thinking. Was she really trying to propagate stereotypes about mountain people? Didn't she know how damaging this kind of photography can be?
Rather than speculate, I decided to ask her for a telephone interview. Her name is Stacy Kranitz, and she promptly replied to my email. The first thing she told me was that she felt burned by CNN.
"I admit that my experience with CNN was very upsetting and I am weary of the media right now," she said, "Even though I have great respect for alternative media sources I'm not sure how confident I feel about a phone conversation. Maybe we can begin the conversation via email."
So I emailed Stacy a couple of questions at a time, and she replied, providing me with the full story behind her hotly disputed photos. I've boiled our emails into a simple interview that shows what this unconventional artist was really thinking. Stacy's excerpts are unaltered, but I did edit my questions to give you, the reader, better context.
Also, while we were exchanging emails, CNN updated the photos, adding additional shots in an attempt to better represent Appalachian culture. Stacy and I talked about this too.

*

TR: Stacy, CNN originally published a portion of your shots from the Appalachians. That subset of your work lit a fire among people from the region. What do you think about the outrage? 
SC: I think people are rightfully angry. I am disgusted to see the words "the everyday lives of appalachian people" next to images of the KKK. That is a real insult to the region as is the reductive edit of my work and I understand why people are so offended by it.

TR: What would you like people to take away from your Appalachian photos?

TR: CNN has added more photos that represent a wider range of Appalachian experiences, but they didn't remove the words "everyday lives." Are you satisfied?
SC: Whaen I contacted them, the photo editors at CNN showed genuine concern for my desire to have the project presented in a way that was true to my intentions. While so much of the damage has already been done with so many people seeing the original sequence of images I appreciated that the editors where immediately responsive to my desires to change the edit to be more accurate to the project.
They did not want to change the text "everyday lives of appalachian people" because they feel that in the context of the article they are not saying that my images reflect the everyday lives of appalachian people but that the images were taken of people in their everyday lives. In the end I agreed that the text was accurate to the interview I gave and with the new edit I feel that the project is shown in a much less antagonistic way. At the end of the day I took these pictures and I have to reconcile with the fact that not everyone is going to take the time to understand what I am doing. Some people are going to be angry that a picture of a Klan rally exists in the edit at all even if it is there to reference an obvious stereotype instead of perpetuate it. I am not making a travel brochure of the area.
While CNN has made the changes i requested I still think it is valuable to continue the discussion about appalachia, representations and stereotypes.

*

What do you think? Do you look at the photos differently after reading this? What do you think of Stacy's work and CNN's handling of the situation?

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="282"] Photo Provided by Bill Meador[/caption]
I'm not going to lie. I have mixed feelings about Smith Mountain Lake. It's a 20,600 acre, man-made creation that engulfed towns, farms, and forests when it rose from the banks of the Roanoke River in 1963. Since then, it's generated miles of McMansions and attracted an influx of Jersey transplants.
It's not exactly the land of local culture or ecological responsibility, but still, it can be awfully pretty. A summertime sunset behind green mountains shimmering on the lake's still surface--it's a scene that melts away the tension. Toss in a cold beer and some grilled meat and you can see why Yankee's have bought every square foot of shoreline.
It's this side of Smith Mountain Lake--the slow moving, hammock loving, lake life--that inspired Sarah Elizabeth Timmins to make her indie film. "It all began three years ago, she says, "When a personal soul-searching journey and a reflective walk along Smith Mountain Lake awakened my soul."
Timmins, a long time film producer, didn't conceive the film Lake Effect around a plot line or character. She was inspired by a place, by the lake itself. "With simply an idea and location, yet neither script nor money, I committed to starting my own film company and jumped into Lake Effects."
[caption id="attachment_5601" align="alignright" width="240"] Vivian Tisdale played by Jane Seymour[/caption]
She shopped the film to hundreds of funders and with writer Scott Winters began crafting a family story that was as moving as its location. In the film, Los Angeles attorney, Sarah Tisdale (played by Richmond native Scottie Thompson), is called home to Virginia when her father dies in a sudden accident. In the midst of grief, she and her sister come to understand why their father thought it was so important for them to be raised on the lake.
Their mother, who goes through her own journey of loss and reflection, is played by Jane Seymour. The most notable name in the cast, Seymour brings seasoned acting chops and star power to the film, but if you ask Timmins, the real stars are area locals.
"From day one, over two years ago, Smith Mountain Lake residents and businesses embraced the film," Timmins explains in her press kit, "Individuals offered us the use of their boats, cars, trucks, and even a helicopter. Amazingly, these donations were made with sincere generosity, without any expectations of remuneration."
To express her gratitude, Timmins is donating a portion of the films proceeds to cleanup efforts at the lake. Having already won recognition at the Omaha and Appalachian Film Festival, Lake Effects premieres tonight on Hallmark Movie Channelat  8:00 PM eastern/7:00 central.
If you watch the movie, tell us what you think. If you live at the lake, did you have any celeb sightings while Lake Effectswas being filmed or did you help out with the movie?
We'd love to hear your stories.

Some West Virginians are fed up. They're tired of seeing coal towns die when industry leaves; they're tired of being painted as bumpkins in pop media; and they're especially tired of feeling like they can't do a thing to change their lot.
Elaine McMillion is chief among them. A young filmmaker who now lives in Boston, she visited home last August and ended up in McDowell County, which has lost more of its population due to mine closures than any other county in the state. She says, "I walked around with my jaw almost hitting the ground; seeing the town with empty storefronts and boarded up doors is extremely saddening, and in some ways infuriating."
McDowell's population began declining about 60 years ago. Since then, the population has dropped by about 80,000 people, leaving behind miles of empty homes and businesses.
There's a hollowness to the place, and it was this absence that moved Elaine to do something. As a filmmaker, she knows how to shoot footage and edit it, so she decided to try to ignite interest in this struggling community through film.
As a West Virginia native, however, Elaine knew better than to do like other filmmakers might--swoop into McDowell County with a camera crew and a predetermined storyline about coal pulling out, towns dying, and all the locals getting hooked on OxyContin. That would have been too easy and inaccurate, and worst of all, it would have painted a hopeless picture for the county. Elaine says, "I have a lot of hope for McDowell."
[caption id="attachment_5529" align="alignleft" width="191"] Ed Shephard says that he lives in a "damned ghost town."[/caption]
Instead, she put the power of filmmaking directly in the hands of McDowell natives. Starting this summer, Hollow will be shot in large part by folks who live in McDowell. They will use the crews' cameras to share images from their own lives. What's more, Elaine and her team aren't going in with a pre-scripted scenario. They're asking residents, "What do you think can help McDowell," and leaving it to them to come up with answers.
In filmmaking, this is unusual and a little risky. Elaine took time last week to talk with me about giving up control along with the heartbreak and wonder she's found in West Virginia's southernmost county.
TR: Elaine, thank you so much for taking the time to talk. You've already shot some beautiful interviews with people in McDowell County. They seem just heartbroken about the slow death of their towns, and in the footage, the towns really do look deserted. What happened? Why did the coal company pull out?
EM: The towns are part of a “boom & bust” economy. By the mid-20^th century, McDowell was one of the richest counties in the United States and was known as “the nation’s coal bin.” Immigrants flooded in from overseas and African Americans came from the South. The county's population soared, but a combination of decreased demand for coal and mechanization of mining minimized the number of jobs.
In 1986, more than 1,200 jobs were lost with the closure of the US Steel mines in Gary. In the following year alone, personal income decreased dramatically by two-thirds. Due to a lack of diversity in the economy, miners were forced to abandon their homes in search of new beginnings in other regions of the state and country.
TR: This summer, you're headed to McDowell to do your main shoot. What kind of stories do you want to uncover?
EM: The goal of Hollow is to work with the community to uncover the stories that they feel have a direct impact on their daily lives and future. We hope to bring to light the stories and issues that are important to them. We are asking them questions like, “What are the challenges of living here?” and “What do you want to see change in five years?”
Although we do not have expectations of what people will want to talk about, we anticipate people addressing population loss, unemployment, education, drug abuse, poverty and the environment, because those are the narratives that make headlines. On the other end of the spectrum, we look forward to highlighting the culture, history and arts of the county. Events such as outdoor plays, concerts, church celebrations and county fairs demonstrate the bonds that a community still maintains.
TR: In addition to shooting professional footage, you're giving cameras to local folks and asking them to shoot some too. That's unique and a little risky. What if all of the footage is of their cats and kids making silly faces?
EM: We will hold workshops where we train residents to use the cameras. We will sit down with them and discuss the story that they want to tell. We don’t anticipate people just shooting silly footage of their cats, because the project’s goals are very transparent to the community. The people who have volunteered to shoot understand that we are trying to reflect on the past, capture the present and gaze toward the future.
TR: In one of your clips, you mentioned other places that have gone belly up—the boarded up factories in Michigan and struggling farms in Iowa. What’s different about this West Virginia county. Why did it capture your attention?
EM: The issues in McDowell County can be seen across towns in the United States. Whether timber, farming, coal or manufacturing--when industry leaves a community it has a huge effect. With that said, McDowell County is quite unique and different in many ways. What captured my attention were three things:
1) The People: What really struck me was how open people were to talking to me. Tom Acosta, who was painting a beautiful mural downtown, talked to us for hours and allowed us to interview him on-camera and shoot him painting the mural. Then he referred us to Ed Shepherd, a man in his late 80s who has lived in McDowell County all his life. Shepherd cares so deeply about his roots that he refuses to leave, even if that means using part of his Social Security check to keep his business open. Shepherd gave me cucumbers and grape tomatoes he was growing in his parking lot, yes his parking lot. This is the resilience and determination of Southern West Virginians. I realized that there were so many stories there that needed to be told.
2) The Urgency. The demographer at WVU we are working with has compiled a list of “possibly dying” and “revived” towns in West Virginia. McDowell County’s 10 incorporated towns are all on the dying list; meaning they all have a negative growth rate and are losing people faster than they are gaining.
[caption id="attachment_5527" align="alignright" width="263"] Tom Acosta, McDowell resident paints a mural, a sign of hope.[/caption]
3) The Stereotypes. Google McDowell County, WV and what do you get? Drugs, coal mining and poverty. For some people these stereotypes are very true and a part of their daily lives, but I do not believe that these should be the only images that represent the 22,000 people of McDowell. It is time we allow them to create their own images of “home” and empower them to take control of these perceptions.
TR: In the below clip, McDowell resident Ed Shepard says, "Our beautiful rich city has become a damned ghost town. I don't know of anything--unless the mines reopen--anything that would bring it back." Do you think anything could bring McDowell back?
I don’t know what can bring McDowell County back, but I believe the residents do. It’s a matter of developing this community forum through interactive storytelling to reveal what can bring their towns back. Some residents tell me that tourism and the Hatfield and McCoy ATV trail will be the savior; some believe there needs to be a highway.
TR: How can Hollow help bring the residents' visions for McDowell to life?
EM: This project’s success so far has been our transparency. This is not “our project”; it’s theirs. Hollow represents the community without labels, whether political, religious, or socio-economic. We believe that this will bring many ideas to the table that will then be taken to those in power. That’s the ultimate goal.
TR: I know this topic hits home for a lot of us. How can we watch your progress with the documentary and help out?
EM: We will be updating the Tumblr as well as the Facebook page and Twitter accounts. We need volunteers to help with workshops and advertising in the community to get people there. If people want to be put on the volunteer list, they can email me.
Also, our Kickstarter campaign needs some love. The money we raise there will pay for production fees and allow us to buy five cameras to give to the community. The cameras will be donated to the community after production to encourage them to continue storytelling.
http://vimeo.com/28285850

If you've heard songs from Old Crow Medicine Show, I'm sure you remember them. They play a mash-up of Appalachian old time, bluegrass, roots, country, and electrified folk that could inspire paralyzed toes to tap. Here's one now...
[youtube]HM2Ku0lmvWs[/youtube]
I've been to two of their shows. I left both hoarse and sweaty, thrilled to know that these boys have roots in my homeland. Founding band members Ketch Secor and Critter Fuqua are from Harrisonburg, Virginia. According to Wikipedia, Secor and Fuqua met in the seventh grade and began playing music together. They performed for James Madison University students at the Little Grill Collective's open mic nights. "They knew that we had talent," Secor once told American Rhythm Music Magazine, "But it was raw. I mean, I was up there beating on a jaw harp when I was 13.'"
After a detour through the Appalachian North, where the boys picked up more band members, they landed in Boone, North Carolina. This is where things got magical. While busking outside Boone Drug, a local pharmacy, the daughter of music legend Doc Watson strolled by. She was so smitten with the band's sound, she told her famous daddy about them. Watson offered them a spot at his annual music festival MerleFest.
[caption id="attachment_5241" align="alignleft" width="143"] Old Crow Medicine Show. Photo courtesy of Vince Kmeron.[/caption]
Old Crow Medicine Show rolled up in their vintage rags with their tattered instruments, and they burned the house down. They were discovered, signed, and before long, they moved to Nashville. After that, they went on the road. They must have toured across Hell and half of Georgia...twice. For a while there, every time I looked up, they were coming back to DC. Their hit single "Wagon Wheel" went gold.
And then, last April, they got on an old train in California and headed east on an epic trip. They joined two other pseudo-folk bands for a concept tour that makes my mouth water. Loaded up in vintage railroad cars, they travelled across half the country, stopping to play outdoor shows in fields and rail yards, all kinds of quirky locations along the way.
Lucky for us, there were cameras on board. They captured what one band member called the "tour of dreams." That footage became a raucous, roots-tinged documentary, called Big Easy Express,which premieres today at South by Southwest, the Austin-based music, film and emerging technology festival.
The preview alone has me ready to ditch work and buy an airline ticket to Austin, but my more pragmatic better-half, Ryan, has shackled me to furniture to keep me in place. If anyone catches the premiere, for Heaven's sake, let us know if the full-length version looks half as good as this...
[youtube]WxDASw6Ry9c[/youtube]

On Tuesday, I left a voicemail for someone I don't know in West Virginia. Her outgoing message was like a spoken-word fortune cookie, a surprise bit of wisdom in the middle of my day. She said, "Forgiveness isn't an emotion. It's a decision."
I wasn't expecting counsel before the beep. It threw me. I stumbled through my message and hung up, thinking two things.
First, why on Earth did she say that?
This was her office number, a professional voicemail account. Had she forgiven someone for such a galling offense that it bled past the bounds of her personal life? Was the opposite perhaps true; did she herself need forgiveness for something big? Or was she just asking callers to forgive her if it took her a while to call back?
There was no way to know for sure. Rather than create elaborate stories about why she recorded this (which is exactly the kind of thing I'd do), I focused on the other question--was she right? Is forgiveness actually a decision--a conscious choice we make rather than an emotional point at which we arrive? Is it more like picking toast for breakfast than falling in love?
This has been bouncing around my head all week, bumping up against memories--times when I screwed up and points when I felt wronged. There are some glaring workplace faux pas (most resulting from lapses in my verbal filter); a few friend break-ups; and, of course, the long-lingering regret of romantic missteps.
With this jumble in mind, I ran across "Barbed Wire," a short story from Brian Hyer. Published in the current issue of Appalachian Heritage, it pivots around the question of forgiveness. It is about a wife's infidelity and the impassioned dilemma that her husband faces.
Take a read, and let us know what you think. Do you like the piece? How does forgiveness figure into it? When you've forgiven people, did it feel like an emotion or were you making a conscious choice?

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BARBED WIRE
BY BRIAN HYER
A woman acts a certain way when she’s in love. I know, because I remember how Joan took to me before we married. Now I see it again, only this time it ain’t my doing, because in the morning when I go to kiss her and she pulls away from me, I know there’s something bad smothering us, bad like the morning fog that clouds a perfectly good view of Balsam Mountain.

Steve Alberts is a retiree, and he might be busier now than he was when he was working. He acts; he takes photos; he's working on a novel; and he writes charming blog posts at OnStevesMountain.com.
I was browsing Steve's site the other day, and one post caught my eye -- The Burro in the Barn Door. I'm a sucker for alliteration, so the title hooked me. It was the photo, though, that kept me glued to the post. It's deceptively simple. If you look at it fast, you might miss the long eared animal in the doorway, waiting, watching, like it knew you'd come back home.
Thanks to Steve for sharing it here.

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One snowy morning in West Virginia I left our little garage apartment out in the country and drove the back roads for several hours just looking for that special photograph that might be hiding in the next hollow, on the next hillside, or around the next curve.
Yes, I took several pictures that morning and I thought a lot of them were good.
But, here is the best one and it was waiting right at the end of my driveway when I returned home that morning.
Life is often that way.
We go out into the world to find some special thing, later to discover that, often
the best is…
right at home…
just like the burro in the barn door…
[caption id="attachment_5034" align="alignnone" width="377"] Photo by Steve Alberts. Used with Permission.[/caption]
 

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After nearly 60,000 views on The Revivalist, Jason Headley's popular essay "Dear West Virginia" has been picked up by the Charleston Daily Mail. It ran today, along with comments from Jason and me on the heartwarming response to the piece.
Thanks to everyone who has read the essay and especially the 300 plus people who've commented. Every last one has appeared in my inbox for approval, and as I've read them, I've thought that they're like verses. Each is a little poem onto itself, and beside one another, they become a treasury of love notes.
A few of the comments were picked up by the paper. Give them a read and see what it means to fall hard for a place.

 

Updated on December 10, 2017.

It looks like Appalachian crafters are finally getting their due. A while back, USA Today ran 10 Great Places to Shop at Craft Galleries, and not one, not two, but three of them were in the homeland.

That had me feeling big waves of pride for our region's artists, and it makes me want to tell Target, Walmart and Best Buy to lump it during the holidays. Rather than filling my loved one's stockings with mass-produced doo-dads, I decided to buck the habit, sign off of Amazon, and pick up some gifts that were made in the hills and hollers of Appalachia.

In case you want to do the same, I've added to the list of Appalachian craft stores started by USA Today. The below shops reach from Kentucky clear to North Carolina, so if you live in the Southern mountains, it should be easy to find an outlet for handmade goods near you.

If not, don't fret. Most have online stores, and there's still enough time before Christmas to have your orders shipped.

In case you're counting, this post's title says that there will be ten great places to get Appalachian crafts, and I've only listed nine. It's not because I've been swigging egg nog while writing this. (Though I have been swigging egg nog while writing this.)

I'd just like your help in naming number ten. Share the knowledge. Whether it's your church craft show, a roadside stand, or an Etsy shop, what's your favorite place to buy handmade goods from the Appalachian South?

Kentucky Artisan Center at Berea, Berea, Kentucky:USA Today says, "This center is part of the legacy of Phyllis George Brown, a former Miss America and Kentucky first lady who championed state crafts. 'Her influence was felt nationally,' [Wendy Rosen, editor of American Style magazine] says. 'Not every state can afford to build Disney World, but every state can afford to support its creative people.' She recommends the wood carvings, pottery and quilts."

 

 

Leather fly swatter from Floyd Country Store

 

Heartwood, Abingdon, Virginia: USA Today says, "Just 6 months old, this regional craft center and restaurant is convenient to Interstate 81. 'You can get something to eat and do some great shopping as well,' Rosen says. She suggests checking out the walking sticks, fiber art and furniture, which only large stores such as Heartwood have the space to carry."

Tamarack, Beckley, West Virginia:USA Today says, "This state-run craft store was one of the first to be located at a highway rest stop and helped popularize the concept. Now many states require rest-stop shops to carry locally made merchandise. 'Tamarack is one of the biggest that has been built in the last 30 years,' Rosen says. 'It has become a wonderful tourist attraction.' You'll find everything here from jams and jellies to wood-turned bowls.'"

Museum of the Cherokee Indian, Cherokee, North Carolina: Supporting the Eastern Band of the Cherokee, the museum store offers jewelry and crafts that follow native traditions, including what may be the coolest stocking stuffer ever—a mini blow gun with darts. If you're close enough to visit the museum, tickets would also make an excellent gift.

Lost River Artisans Cooperative, Lost River, West Virginia: Lost River is better described as a hamlet than a town. In spite of its size, it has a first-rate center for area artists. In one renovated barn, you can buy everything from locally made jewelry to soap, take a wood carving class, learn to knit, and bone up on the area's history in the small but thoughtfully conceived Lost River Museum.

 

Modern pendant from Tamarack

 

Southern Highland Craft Guild, shops in North Carolina, Kentucky, and Tennessee: These shops are serious about Appalachian crafts. They are affiliated with the Folk Arts Center, which showcases the finest in traditional and contemporary crafts of the Southern Appalachians. Based in Asheville, the headquarters has live craft demonstrations and a museum of premiere crafts from the region alongside the oldest, continuously operating craft shop in the U.S. It dates to 1897. If you're shopping any of the six locations or online, note the wide range of mediums represented. Everything from cucumber seeds to beeswax plays a role in these local masterpieces.

Floyd Country Store, Floyd, Virginia: If you've been to Floyd on a Friday night, you already know this country store. It's the heart of the town's renowned Friday Night Jamboree, a weekly hoedown for mountain music enthusiasts. In addition to being one of the two best places to hear bluegrass (so says Country Living magazine), the Floyd Country Store also trades in locally made goods, including handmade dolls, old time toys, and oddities. Where else can you buy pie pans and hear some of the best bluegrass in the nation?

Appalachian Arts Crafts Center, Norris, Tennessee: Want to see the goods you're buying while they're still being made? Tour the studios at the Appalachian Arts Crafts Center. Quilts; pottery; and woven goods, like handbags and rugs, are made onsite and later sold in the center's gallery.

Black Dog Salvage, Roanoke, Virginia: Don't let the name fool you. Black Dog is more than a salvage yard. It has a 14,000 square foot marketplace overflowing with handmade objects and antiques. You can find a china hutch made from barn board right beside holiday cards printed on a 1913 letterpress.

 

Reluctant Bride Card from Black Dog Salvage and Appalachia Press

 

 

I am hopelessly behind. I'm just now figuring out what I'll be cooking for Thanksgiving, and already gingerbread-themed, Christmas time events are popping up all over the region. While they're starting on the early side for my taste, they all sound delicious.
Houses in every shape and size, some complete with little streets, and even entire villages are being constructed of gingerbread rectangles and gum drops and candy canes and gallons of warm, dripping icing. Yum.
If you visit any of these palatable properties, be sure to eat lunch first. We don't need anyone dragged out of a fancy resort for gnawing off licorice gutters.
And post your comments/photos here, letting us know what you think.

Gingerbread Village at The Homestead Resort, Hot Spring, Virginia

National Gingerbread House Competition at Grove Park Inn, Asheville, North Carolina
On its Website, The Grove Park Inn declares "bring us your tired, your grouchy, your hum, your drum." They'll cheer them all up with edible art pieces submitted from across the country. The contest winners will be on display November 16-January 1, and you can go behind the scenes with a guided tour that provides details about the houses' construction.
Also, be sure to watch Good Morning America on the morning of Friday, December 23. Several of this year's entries will be featured.
Gingerbread Festival at Longwood Park, Salem, Virginia 
I have many happy memories of sitting on a curb in Salem, Virginia with hot chocolate smeared across my upper lip, while I watched high school bands go by along with floats made by realtors, giant walking versions of my favorite cartoon characters, and eventually, after a long, cold wait, Santa Claus himself riding the back of a red firetruck. The legendary Salem Christmas Parade has been a tradition in the Roanoke area for years, and the town has built off of its reputation for holiday fun by adding the Gingerbread Festival. It's an entire day, December 3, of food, music, arts and crafts, all culminating in a gingerbread house competition.

I don't post about books that I've not finished. That's largely because I'd hate to talk up a book only to find that it tanks after the first one hundred pages.
I'm on page seventy-five of Burning Bright, and I can't hold back any longer. I'm about to burst over Ron Rash's collection of North Carolina stories.
The first three of them, the ones that I have read, are set in a dim Appalachia, where light never seems to rise above a twilight glow. In spite of the book's beaming title, Rash establishes this gloomy reality right off. In the book's opening paragraph, a character can see dawn shining from the other side of a ridge, but in his holler it is still dark. We are told a simple saying that was uttered by his father...
This cove's so damn dark a man about has to break light with a crowbar.
It's a crisp expression, isn't it?
It conveys a matter-of-fact violence. Rash writes about this hard blow almost like it's a morning chore, like these people have to repeat it every day of their lives.
Even in a single sentence, you can taste Rash's secret sauce. He delivers words sparingly, but not like he's withholding them from you. He's just patient. It's like he has a bag of bread and you, the reader, are a duck. He feeds you slowly, not to watch you beg but because he's giving you time to digest your first morsel before tossing you a second.
With another writer, you might give up and walk away, but Rash isn't feeding you bland, old white bread. From the beginning, he infuses his stories with flavor, foreboding, a dark allure that moves you from page to page. Take for instance, the opening paragraph from "Dead Confederates:"
I never cared for Wesley Davidson when he was alive and seeing him beside me laid out dead didn't much change that. Knowing a man for years and feeling hardly anything in his passing might make you think poorly of me, but the hard truth is had you known Wesley you'd probably feel the same. You might do what I done--shovel dirt on him with not so much as a mumble of a prayer. Bury him under a tombstone with another man's name on it, another man's birth and dying day chipped in the marble, me and an old man all the living ever to know that was where Wesley Davidson laid in the ground.
You know what's coming next. You're going to find out how this fellow got in this predicament. Rash doesn't try to surprise you. After this gruesome set up, he goes back to begining and lets the events unfold. Again, his writing is simple and clear, but knowing that this story ends with Wesley Davidson buried in another man's grave, how can you not keep reading?
One reader calls Rash's writing "country noir." Many others have compared him to Raymond Carver. (I'm curious who all remembers him.) In the 1960s, 70s and 80s, Carver revived interest in short stories by delivering simple, accessible gems. They were dark and clean, well written pieces about working class people. You would not be surprised to find them in Readers Digest or Best American Short Stories.
[caption id="attachment_4553" align="alignleft" width="150"] Ron Rash[/caption]
I suspect that Rash would be honored to appear in either of these publications. In his bio, he seems to be as humble as his writing. He says that his literary career was inspired by a man who could neither read nor write:
It was a warm summer evening and my grandfather, still dressed in his work clothes, was smoking a Camel cigarette as he lingered at the kitchen table after a hard day’s work. When I handed my grandfather the red and blue book (“The Cat and the Hat”) and asked him to read to me, he did not offer any excuse, not even the most obvious one. Instead, he laid the open book on the table before us, peering over my shoulder as he turned the pages with his work-and-nicotine-stained fingers, and I heard the story of a talking cat and his high, blue-striped hat.

The effectiveness of my grandfather’s performance was verified by my begging him to read “The Cat and the Hat” again the following Sunday. His story was different this time. The cat got into more trouble, and out of it less easily. At every opportunity in the following weeks, I ambushed my grandfather so I might hear what new events might occur in this cat’s ever-changing life. How could I not grow up believing words were magical? How could I not want to be a writer?
That's a hopeful start for a man who'd later build his career around illicit burials and (in the below story) meth addicts, but it worked for Rash. He not only became a writer, but a successful one to boot. His acclaimed 2008 novel "Serena"--described as a gothic tale of greed, corruption, and revenge--was named to the Publishers Weekly “Best Books of the Year” list, and it was rated No. 7 on Amazon’s list of the 100 best books of 2008.
With three collections of poetry, three short story collections, and four novels, there's no doubt about it. Ron Rash has become an Appalachian mainstay. You can see why in "Back of Beyond," a story about an aging pawn shop owner who's trade with meth addicts eventually hits home.
When you finish reading it, post a comment. Tell us what you think of the story and if you agree that Ron Rash is, in fact, burning bright.

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BACK OF BEYOND
BY RON RASH

CONTINUE READING

I'm not ashamed to admit that I like The Waltons. When I say so, younger friends stare at me blankly. They think I'm talking about the neighbors or some family at church. People over thirty-five respond in one of two ways. Either they invite me to sit on their porch and compare our favorite episodes or they smirk. Now, this is not your regular smirk, but the kind that substitutes for rolling your eyes when rolling your eyes would be too blatantly condescending. It's a smirk that says, "You can take the boy out of the holler, but you can't take the holler out of the boy."
Well, they're right. There's still a lot of the holler in this boy. That's why I like to cook with bacon grease and random pig parts; that's why I like to nap in pine needles; and that's why I like to watch The Waltons. Not only is the show set in a place that is dear to me, it is also first rate storytelling, and it bucked the mold for its day.
The Waltons illustrated a functional, loving family when other shows were exposing all of our real life dysfunctions (think Archie Bunkerand Maude). It faithfully recreated simple, depression era living in the 1970s and early 1980s--a time typified by poly-blend suits and space age television sets (think The Sonny and Cher Show). It wasn't bawdy or daring, but in its own way, it was revolutionary.
It treated country people with respect. These weren't the hillbilly rapists of Deliveranceor the vigilantly bigots of To Kill a Mockingbird. These were good hearted, fair minded people, living in a tight knit community. The show addressed hot button issues like race and gender equality, but it did so in the same way that many real people did at the time, quietly and thoughtfully in the context of their daily lives.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="227"] Boyhood home of Earl Hamner in Nelson County, Virginia[/caption]
As you may know, this gem of Appalachian entertainment started with books. Earl Hamner published Spencer's Mountain in 1961. It was our first glimpse at the family that would later be called the Waltons. In this book and in The Homecoming: A Novel About Spencer's Mountain (1970), the family was called the Spencers, but they were largely identical to the clan we know from television. They even featured a character called Clayboy, who was the bridge between television's John-Boy Walton and the author himself.
Like Clayboy and John-Boy, Hamner was born into a large mountain family. He dreamt of going to college and writing, but nothing seemed less attainable. He wrote this conflict into the plot of The Waltons. In a recent post on his blog, Hamner describes the way the storyline mirrored his real life and how he managed to go to college:
John-Boy’s mother has just discovered a tablet the boy has hidden under his mattress. She demands to know what is in it. He replies:
“You know what’s in this tablet, Mama? All my secret thoughts- how I feel, and what I think about. Things I never told anybody ‘till now. What it’s like late at night to hear a whippoorwill call and its mate call back, the rumble of the midnight train crossen the trestle at Rockfish, watchen water go by in the creek and knowen that some day it’ll reach the ocean and wonderen if I’ll ever see the ocean. Sometimes I hike over to Route 29 and watch the people in their cars and wagons go by and I wonder what their lives are like. Things stay in my mind, Mama. I can’t forget anything. It all gets bottled up and sometimes I feel like a crazy man. Can’t sleep or rest till I rush off up here and write it in that tablet.
“I do vow,” replied Olivia.
“If things had been different, Mama, I think I could have done somethen with my life. What I would have liked, Mama, was to have tried . . .to be .. a writer!
“If that’s what you want, couldn’t you still try? “ Asked Olivia.
“It wouldn’t be right,” he answered. “Not in these times. It takes a college education to be a writer and even if we had the money it wouldn’t be right to risk it all on me. And anyway I can’t disappoint my daddy. He’s got his heart set on me taking up a trade.”
Olivia replied, “He just want you to know how to make a living.”
“I could sure never do that scribblen things down in a tablet.”
But time would prove me wrong. Through the intervention of Laura Horsley, the wife of our company doctor I received a scholarship to the University of Richmond. But that was only half the battle. The scholarship paid for tuition only. There was still food and board, textbooks to be bought, fees of several kinds. Through the generosity of three of my father’s sisters I was taken into their home in Richmond and given food and lodging. Our local Baptist minister gave me a crash course in Latin, one of the requirements the University needed before I could qualify to accept the scholarship. My father ruefully parted with the white shirt he had planned to be buried in, and my mother spent the money she earned from selling eggs and buttermilk to buy me a suit from Sears and Roebuck. She showed a picture of it to me in the catalogue before it arrived – “the fabric is of green herringbone, with vest to match and an extra pair of trousers.” And it cost nineteen dollars and ninety-five cents. Took every cent of my mother’s buttermilk money!
Lucky for us, Hamner made it through school and became one of the Appalachian region's most successful sons. Honoring the deep impact that he has made on literature, the Library of Virginia will award Hamner with the 2011 Literary Lifetime Achievement Award on October 15.
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="270"] Hamner Family Kitchen[/caption]
Now a resident of California, the 88 year old Hamner will return to Virginia to accept the award. The ceremony will be in Richmond, where he will headline a lively conversation on the role of television in American life and culture over the past 60 years. In addition to The Waltons, Hamner created the long-running, night-time soap opera Falcon Crest and wrote for Rod Serling's classic series The Twilight Zone. If you're in the area, it should be a fascinating discussion.
If you're not able to attend, you can read an excellent interview with Hamner in the Library of Virginia's quarterly magazine Broadside. The author discusses the impact of the Blue Ridge Mountains on his work and his latest projects--a children's book about a goose that escapes a death warrant, another children's book about an American boy and an Aboriginal boy raising an orphaned kangaroo, and a "light hearted guide to the golden years", which this prolific writer certainly seems to be taking in stride.
Now, I have to ask, are there any other fans of The Waltons out there?
If so, please oh please post a comment and tell us why the show matters to you. Also, be sure to check out Earl Hamner's April 2010 update on the lives of your favorite cast members. One has recently appeared on Broadway. Another has had a touring cabaret act. A third actually lived in Hamner's home county--Nelson County, Virginia--for many years.
Hamner says that even though they are spread out and living disparate lives, they all stay in touch. Thirty years after the television show stopped running, it sounds like they still function like one big family.

When we visited Asheville a few weeks back, the work of local artists was everywhere--in galleries, in coffee shops, lining downtown sidewalks on tabletops, and even at a tailgate farmer's market out by UNCA.
We picked a few of our favorites. Now you can pick yours. Check out the below works and vote for the one you like best.
 
[polldaddy poll="5261907"]
 
Linwood Wood Carving

Just North of Asheville alongside the French Broad River lies Marshall, North Carolina, home to Blue Hill Farms, which produces great looking course ground grits and these beautiful hand carved spoons.
I was so struck the middle one--the spoon that tappers into an elegant elongated bird's head--I forgot to ask the woodcarver his name. He had a bushy beard and a friendly disposition. He seemed to be a regular at the UNCA tailgate farmer's market. If anyone knows him, by all means, let us know. He deserves so much praise for his beautifully carved utensils.
 
 
Anonymous Mugs
I've got to be better about capturing artists names--missed this one too. Luckily, I did capture a shot of two whimsical mugs in Clingman Cafe, a tasty spot in Asheville's visit-it-while-it's-still-hip River Arts District. I'm not sure who the little lady is teasing, but her devil horn stance is just strange enough to make me dig her.
 
Blue Mountain Bowls
Walking outside the Grove Arcade, I passed table after table of local crafts. Many were lovely, but one struck me as being truly "museum quality". Carl Pittman has carved bowls into remarkable art pieces. Some are fully functional; some are meant to be displayed, maybe behind lucite with lasers protecting them. They're that nice.
The bowl pictured here stands out for me. It is simple and earthy with a prominent grain. The concentric rings are thin and even, almost as if they were painted atop the golden hue of the bowl's base color. Also, I'm a sucker for things that come in threes--the holy trinity, french hens, musketeers-stuff like that.