I returned home to the Appalachians of Southwest Virginia a couple of years ago. After the deaths of my mother and grandparents, I decided it was time to bring my daughter and my soul back to my roots. I grew up in this mountainous land; proud of our Scotch-Irish and Cherokee heritage along with the coal boom that made us who we are.

I still wear jeans and boots in these woods, and I still use coal on my fire for warmth. And now I'd like to share an article about the necessities of these things within a community bonded by a railroad.

I wrote this article for a webzine that I introduced to this area in an attempt to bridge the gap of time over state lines including, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, and North Carolina. The webzine failed after only a few months, but much like my very stubborn predecessors, I haven't given up quite yet.

For over two hundred years now the people of the Appalachians have believed in this area we call home.

Those Things That Bind Us

by Susan Carty Okeson

Like most small-town kids, I grew up in bib overalls.

At remote rural crossings, we used to wave at the engineers that donned those same overalls and count the cars as they rolled by

Growing up in southwest Virginia during the height of the Cold War, it was the reassuring sound of a distant train whistle in the early hours of the morning that meant all was well.

There is a story behind the shapes of the rivers, mountains, and caves, and even behind the locations of forests, roads, railroads, historic towns, and cities in Southwestern Virginia and Eastern Kentucky.

The mountains of this area are unlike those of the Big Smokies to the east, or the Rockies to the west. This area has been described as a deeply-eroded plateau, with chasms, called hollows, following creeks, many of them several miles long. Natural springs are common and widespread. In the early years and even now they are the source of water, not only for livestock, but for family use as well.

The mountain people that poured into this region following the opening of the Cumberland Gap by Daniel Boone were predominantly of Scotch-Irish descent. They brought with them their traditions and customs from the old country. The social structure of the original Scotch-Irish people was built around the greater family.

With the coming of the big coal companies, soon followed the large-scale building of roads and railroads throughout the mountain area, followed by more and better schools.

The success of this area is inexorably linked to the expansion of those railroads along with the one mineral resource that still shapes the economy and culture in southwestern Virginia and Eastern Kentucky. After the Civil War, Northern capitalists financed railroad expansion into the coal fields of this area.

The railroad had been planned from as early as 1835, but it was many years later before any semblance of construction was begun on what would later be referred to as the costliest railroad in America. The average cost per mile was upward of $125,000, and ultimately culminated into over a thirty million dollar project as one article states back in July, 1900.

That particular article contained the story of this great railroad. It was the Carolina, Clinchfield & Ohio Railroad, completed from the great bituminous coal fields of southwestern Virginia and eastern Kentucky to the cotton mill district in South Carolina. The promoter and builder of this magnificent road was George L. Carter. Today it stands as a monument to his genius; one of the greatest pieces of railroad construction east of the Rocky Mountains.

The name "Clinchfield" is derived from the coal region of Virginia as the railroad carried the products of the Clinchfield Coal Corporation from the coal fields and mining camps of the region to distant markets in need of coal for fuel.

..... and what a railroad it was. The Clinchfield line was designed and built by Chief Engineer M. J. Caples to construction standards unheard of for its time. This railroad almost a century after its completion, remains a marvel of construction and civil engineering as it forms the backbone of the CSX railroad system today.

The Lexington and Eastern Railroad that was completed by November of 1912, which became part of C&O Railroad, ran from Breathitt County along the North Fork of the Kentucky River to McRoberts in Letcher County, Kentucky.

Today, the former Lexington and Eastern Railroad along with The Clinchfield are an integral part of CSX Transportation, which has continued to expand after its formation by merging the Chessie System and the Seaboard System into one vast transportation conglomerate.

After the railroad began to arrive in the 1880's, the Appalachian Plateau - especially those counties near the Cumberland and Pine Mountain range - shifted from subsidence agriculture to a cash economy based on lumbering and mineral extraction. Company towns were constructed and new employees recruited to man the deep mines.

A prime example of this is Pike County, Kentucky, located in the heart of the Appalachian coal fields. Pike County has been one of the principal coal producing counties in the nation since 1910. Though exploitable coal deposits in nearly every section of the county were known to geologists and others before the Civil War, their large-scale commercial development awaited the coming of the railroads in the first two decades of the twentieth century.

All of this shows us that indeed, Southwest Virginia and Eastern Kentucky was once a destination, a place to settle between 1750-1800. That's when the valleys between the ridges were converted from forest to farm. And we have seen that the region then became a destination for capitalists and their hired labor between 1880-1920, when the timber and coal barons "harvested" the natural resources of the region.

This area is still unusually rich in minerals; however, our high school graduates continue to move away for schools and jobs - and never return. It has been rumored that we are destined to wither on the vine.

As our mothers' always told us, "don't believe everything you hear." Just because this region has always been isolated physically from population centers and market cities does not mean that circumstances can't change. We shall rely on our natural beauty, reliable workforce, relaxed way of life, easy commutes, and other characteristics of our rural communities as advantages in order to once again become that popular destination as well as bond our communities together again as it was meant to be.

Although my blog is entitled "Writing in the Mountains", I have been asked by so many people about my life in the Arctic that I think I will take this opportunity to write about some of my wonderful adventures during the eight years that I lived at the "Top of the World."

It is difficult to know where to begin. I moved to the Arctic on July 1, 1997. Actually, a permanent move was not in my thoughts that day. I was having a difficult time with a separation and my friends decided I needed a break from my tears and heartache. So, I packed a couple of bags and flew myself and my daughter to Barrow, Alaska to get away from it all. This was going to be a new and wonderful adventure! And it was...

I was immediately introduced to the Native Culture and the children. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with those children. I had been teaching dance to children already for about 15 years, so it was just a natural thought that I should offer my talents here in Barrow. Now keep in mind that they still had their own cultural dances, but they also had very little outside influence in their culture; i.e., ballet, classical music, and the arts; except what little they were exposed to in school.

I opened "The Academy of Performing Arts" school of dance in September of 1997 in Barrow, Alaska to fulfill a dream to teach these children along with the desire to become a big part of their lives along with the community. I taught Kinderdance to very young children ages 3-5 to socialize them and teach them about ballet, tap, and tumbling. I also offered regular ballet classes to varied age groups along with tap, jazz, hip-hop, and gymnastics.

For the next eight years, I had the time of my life!

During these years, I had the wonderful distinction of becoming the Director of the Boys & Girls Club of the Arctic Slope. I not only planned, organized, managed, and directed the overall Unit/Branch programs, but I also helped to develop a cooperative relationship between our members and the public, through their involvement with civic groups, social agencies, and entertaining at community functions. They created and printed their own monthly newsletter and took pride in helping the elderly.

The City of Barrow was kind enough to provide us with a building; however, it was quite old and in heavy need of repairs. The water was either freezing or pipes were bursting which would shut us down quite often. Through my recent visits over the past two years, I have come to understand that the building is currently shut down for repairs and no one seems to know when it will be suitable to house the Boys & Girls Club again. It's a shame. These kids really enjoyed having somewhere to go every afternoon after school. Upon my visit again this coming Fall, I hope to find a much repaired building or maybe even a new one. I will be sure to update on that.

Note: the house pictured here on the left is not the Boys & Girls Club. (ha ha) This house is actually not that old and also the house I lived in while I was in Barrow. All houses are built up on pilings because of the constant freezing and thawing of the tundra.




Of course my personal life was filled with wonderful friends and weekly get-togethers. Due to the harsh climate and many months of darkness, we created our own fun to disuade the boredom. Most of my friends were either school teachers or research scientists. We broke up the week by spending Wednesday evenings having dinner together and then playing board games or cards for several hours. Then weekends, of course, were spent similarly. The host location might change, but we still tried to get together at least twice a week. Barrow, statistically, has the highest suicide rate in the US due to so many months of darkness; along with the fact that it is so far from the 'real' world. Socializing on a regular basis, laughing, joking, playing games, and having fun kept us all sane in such a harsh and difficult environment. I made some wonderful friends. Lifetime friends.


Since the Alaskan Arctic is also teeming with wildlife and beautiful scenery, I also took the opportunity to take thousands of photos over the course of those years. I can't possibly share all of them with you, but I do want to share some of my favorites.


Keep in mind that the Inupiaq Eskimos still believe in subsistence living, and I, for one, have a great respect for their way of life. They do not abuse or neglect it. They not only eat the meat, but use every inch of each animal for their very existence, just as their ancestors did before them.








It was a very surreal experience. It may not be for everyone, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. If you get the chance to visit Barrow, I doubt you will regret it.


Footnote:

The Barrow Whaler's Football Team is now the most northern US High School football team in the world. It is also the most expensive piece of turf @ $1 million dollar price tag. They have no fancy scoreboard or seating for fans. This is just the cost of the field itself. It was a difficult project due to the fact that there is 'no' grass in Barrow and the weight of the turf made for a very spendy flight. This was built on dirt and sand.......not even tundra. But according to Barrow fans and ESPN, this was a fabulous and historic feat! (yes, that is me sitting on the 50 yard line........GO WHALERS!)

We are building a large dog pen for our nine pups and their momma. This is taking more time than we originally thought, so in the meantime, I'm going to tell you all about my dance school in the Arctic.

I lived and taught dance in Barrow, Alaska, a.k.a. "Top of the World"........the Arctic..... for 8 years before I moved back home to my farm in Virginia. I loved every minute of it. I started dancing at age three, took dance lessons for many years, and went on to attend Virginia Intermont College in Bristol, Virginia; home of the Bristol Ballet.

I taught at several schools in the Virginia area and North Carolina before moving to Alaska. And then those children stole my heart. They had not ever had the opportunity to dance, but they were thrilled with the new adventure. They were starved for anything new and exciting; and they became a big part of my life.



From age 2, 3, 4, and 5, I took them under my wing and not only taught them to dance, but also listened to their stories, and helped shape their lives. I think about them and miss them everyday.

After moving back to Virginia, I originally thought I might not make it back to the Arctic, but after many emails and phone calls, I could not resist. I now fly back to Alaska twice a year to teach for 6-8 weeks at a time and it feeds my soul. I am so glad that I can continue to be a part of their lives.

I'm going to take a step back in time tonight and share one of my better moments with all of you. I haven't shared this online with anyone yet, and I think it's about time.

I was divorced for many years, but after raising my little girl all by myself for over 20 years, I finally found the man I would marry again. And I knew this time it would last. He's my best friend and has been since we were little kids.

James Kent Gilley, Jr. and I married on Oct. 7, 2006 in my front yard here at the farm. It was a little chilly, but the wedding was gorgeous. We had a 60 foot tent with a 25 foot ceiling that fed 350 people. Too many commented that it looked like a circus tent. Ha! And it was probably true. But also very elegant and so nice. I loved having all of our families and our friends here all at the same time. It was a great time!

Another best friend catered the wedding, Greg Clisso. He brought his best bbq with all of the accoutrements. Great food, wonderful bartender, fully stocked bar, and dancing until the wee hours of the morn. It might not have been the Waldorf, but it was spectacular!!!




Even though I am much older, I chose my dad to give me away. He really wanted to do that, and since it meant so much to both of us, we thought it was a wondefull asset to my wedding.


This is my baby, and my maid of honor, Miranda. She is not only my daughter, but my best friend.


This is the wedding party. Kent's Uncle was best man, Ralph Gilley. Then Kent, Me, Mira, and my Dad.

Second row: Brendon is my best friend Kristy's son and Olivia is my Half-Sister, Julie's daughter.












My daughter created this wedding storyboard for me. It's gorgeous! I could not have wished for anything more perfect. She is the ultimate photographer and she captured our hearts on this day!

My extended family now includes wonderful in-laws and it makes for happier times here on the farm.

This is the first view you get when driving up the old road to my grandfather's cabin, circa 1904. I love this old place. I grew up here and spent many days watching my grandfather sharpen knives, clean his rifles, make squirrel gravy, and talk for hours in front of the fire. I split the mud holes dry, caught fish, and didn't have to wear frilly dresses. I was pretty much raised my granddaddy's only son.



No one stays here anymore. My mother's side of the family has moved on to bigger and better things and now since I drive by almost every weekend, I tend to want to nurse the old thing back to health. Due to vandalism, I decided it was time for a new back porch and new porch paint on the front of the old cabin. We spent most of Saturday and Saturday evening revamping the place where I spent my childhood.

Once the rains came, we decided it was time to pack up and head back to the house. Kent has to work on Sunday (unfortunately), so we thought it best to get home a.s.a.p.

I love the time we spend here. There are so many wonderful memories. I hope to share more with you in the future.

Hope I didn't bore you to death and that you all had a safe and fabulous 4th of July weekend!

I did!

Post for: July 4, 2008

Mira (a.k.a Miranda) took this immediately after a rain shower this morning. She has such an eye for beautiful things.

The beans had soaked overnight and were ready for the fat bacon and to be slow cooked to their tender taste. Time to soak the corn as well, and baste the 7 pound pork tenderloin. Wow! It was a doozy!

I realize there a million ways to baste and grill a tenderloin; even one this size, but I took my grandmother's tips along with a short cut and it worked really well for us today.


Orange Marmalade Pork Tenderloin

• 5-7 lbs. pork tenderloin


• McCormick's Grill Mates® Pork Rub - it basically has all the ingredients that my grandmother used and as I now have access to these wonderful items at the grocery, I figured I should make use of them. ;)


• 1 Jar Orange Marmalade - we really like Smucker's, but not necessary


• Basting Brush


• Meat Thermometer - very important when cooking pork!


• Heavy Duty Aluminum Foil - juices will run heavy and you don't want to burn the pork.

Pre-heat grill to a very low heat: around 250 degrees if possible. Slow cooking insures juiciness.

After taking the tenderloin out of the plastic wrapper, you will want to rinse it off and pat it dry. Start adding the Grill Mates rub. If it doesn't want to stick, add just a small portion of olive oil to the loin first, then rub away. Once the loin is covered, wrap in heavy duty aluminum foil and place on the top wrack of your grill. Watch and turn for about an hour.

Take the loin off, open up the foil and baste the loin with 1 entire jar of orange marmalade. I know. It sounds like a lot, but it is soooo good. And it soaks into the meat for a nice, tender, taste.



You can now raise the temperature of the grill to 400 degrees.

Re-wrap in the foil and place on the grill for about 15 minutes, flipping the loin halfway.

You also have the option of placing the loin straight on the grill. The sugar in the marmalade will crystallize and form a brown glaze over the outside of the loin. I have found I lose the taste of the marmalade this way and so we opt to keep it wrapped. Choice is yours.

Check the temp. of the loin with your meat thermometer quite often at this point. You want to take it off at around 140-145 degrees. The loin will continue to cook after you take it off the grill and there is nothing worse than dry pork. Ugh! I guess maybe dry chicken. Ha!

Voila! There you have it. Simple and yet so yummy!

I also cut and added baby red potatoes and peaches and cream corn cobs to my bean pot while all of this was going on. I have poured the buttermilk into the cornmeal mix and pre-heated my cast iron skillet. Cornbread will be out in 25 minutes. Let's eat!

Bellies are full and the time is about right for fireworks. Miss Winnie and the puppies were not fond of the booms and bangs, but they lived through it. And, Lil Sasha seemed to enjoy her ear of corn. So cute!



Afterward we rode out on the 4-wheelers to the field that overlooks the lights in the valley below. We watched other firework displays for a few minutes before the rains came. Ack! We were soaked by the time we made it back to the cabin. But it was a fun day! Lots of laughs!

I took a walk down memory lane this morning. There were four baby kittens whining terribly for their mother right outside my bedroom window. My daughter, Miranda was already up doing a 'photo walk' with her camera by the time I came walking through the field down to the barn in search for Mama Cat. She had already taken over one hundred photos of the field, flowers, clouds, etc. by the time I got to the barn and then she snapped this photo.

Yes, I'm still in my nightgown. But when kittens cry, there are some things you don't think about.

I can't count the times I've climbed this old ladder up into the hayloft. I've spent many a day looking out onto the fields and watching my family bale hay or feed cattle. I also used to swing from a rope from the rafters for hours on end. And on occasion, I had an accident or two. I fell through the loft into a huge pile of cow manure one day. I came running to the house crying. And of course, after my granddaddy hosed me off, they all had a good laugh.

Mama Cat followed us back to the house and took care of her babies and all was well. I had to take a shower and pull the straw out of my hair, but it was worth it.

I love this old farm.

Good night all!

I was in the middle of my garden this afternoon, when the first storm clouds rolled in. I knew I had about an hour's worth of weeding, hoeing, and watering of plants and vines before heading back to the house. I just crossed my fingers and drug out the garden hose.

I knew the garden would get the drink they needed if the clouds dropped on us, so I hurried to drench eight pots of flowers and
twelve hanging Boston ferns wrapped around my 70 ft. porch. Thirty-five feet on each side. Boy, if this old porch could talk. The stories it could tell. My grandparents and my great uncle Cecil would sit out on the porch for hours and swap interesting tid bits along with the gossip of the day.


By now I realized the rain was imminent. But I had more to do, so I put the memories away for a while and finished checking my garden. The tomatoes are growing like weeds, but still too green, even for fried green tomatoes. (Yum.)






The leaf lettuce, red lettuce, peppers, cucumbers, and squash all looked happy and healthy as well, so I high-tailed it over to cover the pool and "batten down the hatches" as grandmother would say.

The storm is rolling in fast and I can hear her plain as day: "You better get inside this house young lady. Unplug the TV's and stay away from the windows. And don't you dare think about gettin' on that phone." This old farm house has been hit by lightning so many times I've lost count. And she was good at reminding us. I can count many an evening sitting in the middle of the living room floor in the dark with only the sound of a portable radio ( no plugs, ha) and the distant sound of thunder. She'd sit in her big pink chair holding her fly swatter, humming some gospel tune until the thunder passed and only a few drops of rain water could be heard dripping from the gutters.

I had to remind my daughter of the windows today. She was too busy taking care of our nine puppies to notice the storm. She was busy washing puppy bowls in the sink right in front of the kitchen window. And without hesitating I heard my grandmother's words fly from my mouth: "Turn that water off and get away from that window, young lady."

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

The storm blew over and all is well at the farm. We're cleaning up the puppy pen and washing puppy blankets this evening. I'm guessing I need to introduce you to my nine beautiful puppies soon. They take up a lot of our time, but it's just another part of farm life.

Thanks for the walk down memory lane. Have a good evening!

I've never written a blog entry. I don't really know what blogs are. Confessions? Random thoughts?

Here's a thought that just came to mind: Most people might assume I will write blog entries about mothers and daughters, or farming, or country life. But I'm like most people, made up of other moments in life as well; those planned and not; some interesting and others irritating; all those moments that made me who I am as a person.

But alas! I grew up here on this farm in southwest Virginia. I am a farm girl! And in being a farm girl, I will most definitely be entering blogs on my life here on the farm.

Climbing trees, skinning knees, wading the creek, splattering through cow pies, and various other farm girl adventures made for wonderful memories as a young girl. But then I discovered another love. Dancing!

I started dancing at age three, trained at numerous dance schools across the country and abroad. I attended Virginia Intermont College, one of the finest ballet schools on the east coast as far as I'm concerned. I have been teaching ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop, etc. for over 25 years now. I also teach ballroom, swing, and straight-up jitterbug!!!

Dancing ultimately led to leaving my small country life. I lived in urban and large cities across the country for several years before taking a giant leap and multiple planes to an eight year adventure in Barrow, Alaska; a.k.a. "Top of the World". ........about 4,500 miles from my farm in the mountains. After the deaths of my mother and grandparents, there was no one left here on the farm. And on thinking of it being just a part of my history, the farm called me back home.

I finally moved back in 2005. And it wasn't long until I found myself being that fun loving farm girl again. I love 4-wheelin' with my husband and daughter, gettin' mud on the tires, goin' to the cabin and target shootin'. But due to many years and adventures abroad, I also love to travel, enjoy a nice glass of merlot, listening to jazz, and collecting exotic treasures!

So there you have it...I don't have to prove that I'm a farm girl by wearing overalls, chewing on a piece of straw, and putting my hair up in pigtails. The truth of that matter is, no matter where I go or what I'm doing, I will ALWAYS have the farm in my heart and the urge to share my story with those who need to hear it most.

Ya wanna hear somethin' funny? I'm actually sitting here barefoot, in cut off jean shorts, and my hair in pigtails. Ha! I love this old farm.

Phew! I did it. Virgin Blogger No More.