Appa-LATCH-ee-yuh—Part 2

In the last posting I described living on the cusp between Appalachia and the power brokers of the nation’s capital. Although my rural neighbors did not grow up in the heart of Appalachia, they are far closer to that culture than folks who live only a dozen miles east of here. I will describe a few of the qualities I have observed in the last quarter century of living here.

The roots of my neighbors burrow deeply into this land. It’s not easy for this vagabond hermit (who has resided in half a dozen states) to relate to those who live in the same locale where their ancestors settled. Many in this community have traveled no more than a day’s journey away. Since their formal education level is limited, their knowledge base tends to be very local and commonsensical, rather than cosmopolitan and broad. They have taught me that there is a significant difference between having a formal education and being intelligent—a point usually missed by “sophisticated” mainstream folks, who often label someone who’s not savvy about the urbane world as ignorant.

In contrast, I often find my neighbors quite savvy—they have a solid understanding of how to lead a successful life in their environment and they shrewdly conduct their business with each other and with outsiders. In my first few years here I sometimes found myself on the short end of a bargain with one of them—not quite knowing how I got maneuvered there. Even though I felt bested in a bargain, I never felt cheated. It seemed more a case of one of them deciding to teach me a lesson for my own development or to ensure that I’d treat them with appropriate respect in the future. They also understand that, in a small community, you will face your neighbor tomorrow, so it doesn’t make sense to treat them too badly.

People who live in a culture that teaches them to strive for more status and power (read D.C. again) tend to demean more laid-back cultures. Similarly, people who live a more easy-going lifestyle see the frenetic activity of urban power people as ridiculous and stressful. I have found my neighbors to be relaxed folks who are open and friendly. There’s always time to stop and chat. In fact, it’s a higher priority than rushing off to do business. When I first moved out here I was taken aback when I’d come upon two pickup trucks pausing side by side on a back road, the drivers engaged in conversation—and continuing to yak for a few minutes after I pulled up behind one of them. It took me awhile to shake off my metropolitan impatience and not be bothered.

Another related custom I very much appreciated when I became a resident was to have the driver of an oncoming vehicle—especially pickups—wave at me as we passed. On these occasions you usually get a “one-finger” wave, wherein an index finger on the steering wheel gets lifted and wobbled in greeting. When I first moved here I drove a beloved old Fiat convertible. I would get an occasional wave, but just as many curious stares. When I sold the car and got my own pickup, however, the frequency of the waves dramatically increased. I even sometimes felt mistaken for a native!

I’ve never regretted leaving the fast-paced city life and the lucrative job it gave me, to live on the eastern edge of Appalachia. It felt like coming home.