Recently I just finished Appalachia North by Matthew Ferrence. In it, he recounts the complex relationship he still has with the land as a Northern Appalachian. Typically when I finish a book I write a Literature Appetizer to get people a taste of what they will find. Since his book is such a personal journey, I would not do it justice by recounting his life.
Many of his experiences reflect my own experience growing up in Western PA. So instead of condensing his journey, I thought I would condense mine.
The Hero’s Journey is a common literary structure where the hero of the story departs home to do a great act, and then returns victorious. My Northern Appalachian Journey is a bit different, but has a similar structure of three parts; Living in Water, Succeeding by Leaving, and The Mountains are Calling.
While on a four hour drive along the forested roads of Pennsylvania, I was listening to an episode of Talk Cardboard. Their board game recommendation for that episode was Forest Shuffle. That night, when I finally had time to look more into the game, was when I realized this game was designed specifically for me.
Before diving into the game, come take a stroll along the paths that converged into this experience.
In fall of 2021, Serafina came home from a festival out in York, PA with a strange fruit. She called it a Pawpaw, and said it is a native fruit to this region folks are trying to bring back. I had never heard of it before, and she shared some with me to taste. It is a ‘lima bean’ shaped fruit, green skin, with a custard like inside.
Jump to 2023, where we were both standing cold and wet in the freezing rain, to bring back a bounty of Pawpaws to Pittsburgh. Just what is it about this fruit that folks go crazy for?
In the summer of 2015, I was sitting on the edge of Diablo Lake. My first assignment of my residency program was to write a poem titled “Where I’m From.” While my cohort talked about this mountain range, or that river valley, mine was completely devoid of any physical place. I mentioned the music I grew up with, my family, and the things I had done. But I didn’t think of myself having a connection to the land.
That poem started my search into what it means to be Appalachian. In trying to reconnect with my heritage, I found the only instrument “born from these hills”: the mountain dulcimer. So in the summer of 2020, while the world was on lockdown, I bought a cheap one and started to play. Worst case scenario I spent $80 on something to hang on my wall. Fast forward to last month where I spent a week playing the dulcimer with others and learning about the deep history of this instrument.
Recently, my father wrote a book. It is a great dive into questioning how we think about the Gospel. “The Gospel is the story we tell about Jesus and the Good News” is one of the main arguments in his book. Stories change overtime, depending on the teller and listeners. I do not have the authority to speak on the Gospel, but I have studied another topic that is just a story we tell; nature.
When I say nature is a story, I don’t mean that the trees don’t exist. I don’t mean that the mountains formed over millions of years because we needed a good backdrop for a picture. What I mean is the way we describe our relationship to the rest of the living organisms on this planet reflects our values and mindsets as a society.
This isn’t a new idea, and I first heard some of these ideas when I was in school. But this isn’t going to be an academic deep dive. I want to tell you exactly what I said to my co worker when we entered this room earlier this month.
One of my favorite experiences in teaching was “nature time,” as my students called it. Myself and a few other staff would take our students into a safe place in the woods. I would gather all the kids and say “There are two rules for the next hour. 1) Do not harm any living thing. 2) You must always be able to see a staff member. Now go!”
Often, kids would sit their stunned…unsure of what to do. It would take about 10 minutes for students to realize they had time to just play, as long as they were safe about it. Sometimes kids would just chat, thankful to be able to relax. Sometimes they would build forts. One time I had a gaggle of students come back with only a smile not covered in mud.
This freedom is the basis of Home Rule, and I think it can be used to fight the Climate Crisis.
Back in 2019, I showcased a book called Ramp Hollow: the Ordeal of Appalachia. One of the key messages of that book is the people living here have had their land, their homes, their lives taken from them countless times. It is truly the spirit of Appalachia to recover from unthinkable tragedies over and over again.
In Soul Full of Coal Dust, Chris Hamby illustrates that even the lungs of miners are up for grabs. After years of working in the mines, coal miners couldn’t get the legal help they needed to survive. This story is one of a community of people, from out of state lawyers to long time coal miners, to give the miners the support they desperately need.
My two biggest disappointments in my public schooling education are 1) not becoming fluent in another language and 2) the US history I was taught. Not only was I taught factually incorrect things, but I was never taught historically significant events that happened locally. The Battle of Blair Mountain is a must read for anyone living in Appalachia.
In December 2020 the employees of the Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh voted to form a union. This marked an end to the six month campaign lead by the United Steel Workers and it also marked the beginning of a new era in the four museum network.
After the official formation of the United Museum Workers union, many of my friends and colleges said the same thing; “Andrew Carnegie must be rolling in his grave.”
Early last Saturday morning I awoke before sunrise. Climbing out of my hanging tent, I took a peaceful walk through the woods to the stony shore of the Allegheny Reservoir. There is a clarity of thought that happens that early in the morning. Sun melted away the fog and my morning grogginess.
Unfortunately, large motor boats broke the still silence of the morning. Large and loud, they charged forward on the reservoir as I sat contemplating. My plan was to kayak early in the morning, but those boats were creating such large wakes that it would be unsafe to travel on the water.
Before starting my road trip back to Pittsburgh, I stopped to read this sign.
