Recently I was able to visit my husband's homeland, the great state of Virginia.
To be honest, I had been reluctant to go even though I've known great and wonderful people from Virginia. But not everyone I know from Virginia comes from the same area where Clint grew up. You see, my husband is a geographically certified hillbilly. I did not know I had prejudices against hillbillies until I met Clint and they continued to stew for the better part of the last year and a half. Whenever he'd reminisce about the good ol' days back home in Appalachia (for the rest of you who are not from that area, it's pronounced Apple-atcha by natives), I would secretly cringe inside, knowing that one day I'd actually have to go and encounter these people who speak weird and like wood paneling and bad wood carvings and fake flowers. Only to Clint it wasn't actually a secret that I dreaded going. It wasn't a secret that I was a snobby Californian who judged his people.
Despite myself, I loved Virginia. We started up near our nation's capital in Fairfax, VA where Clint's mom, dad and sister live. His mom had to work for most of our trip, but we got to take her to work a couple of times and I got to see where she spent a lot of her time (and subsequently where Clint spent 5 years of his life working the same job-- contract delivery driving for the postal service). His sister played tour guide and we cruised around D.C. I am a lame traveller in the sense that I could care less about seeing monuments. They thought I'd want to walk around the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials, stare at the White House, visit the Smithsonian, etc. I told them I was content doing a drive-by...I'd rather discover the cool parts of the city where we'd find a good hole-in-the-wall Greek diner. We found one called The Greek Spot. It was pretty decent.
Our second day was spent exploring a cute town called Lucketts and going antiquing. Then we ventured into Maryland once I found out how close we were. It wasn't too long before we were in West Virginia, yes, eating dinner and playing slots at Hollywood Casino. Clint was mortified as his sister and I went from nickel slots to penny slots and back again. We didn't lose ALL of it.
The next 5 days were spent down in Clint's hometown, Stickleyville. It was a 7 hour drive to get there, through endless groves of deciduous trees in full fall array. Breathtaking.
A good amount of Clint's extended family, on both sides, still live in Stickleyville. I do not know what the population of this tiny farm community is, but it's TINY. And most of the residents are related to Clint in one way or another. To be honest, the place spooked me at first. And, by spook, I mean creeped me out in its ability to fulfill all stereotypes I'd had. While I did not see children running around shirtless in bib overalls and barefoot, I did see my share of double wide trailers with rocking chairs on the front porch and dogs chained to barrels outside. There were also quite a few barns with what looked like drying leather or some sort of thick herbs hanging in the doorways. Clint let me know it's what's called "hangin' 'baccer" (hanging tobacco). I couldn't snort-laugh when I heard this because I didn't want to shame his niece Verity, who was sitting in the back seat and who still lives in that area.
Like I thought, every house we entered had wood paneling, fake flowers and even his sweet Mamaw Rasnic (grandma)-- who lives on Rasnic Hollow Road, had two wood carvings of hillbillies toting jugs of moonshine-- yes, Clint's ancestors were Moonshiners. And, as I expected, every place we went, we were served up biscuits, ham and bottomless cups of sweet tea. Everyone was 'just as nice as they could be' and I immediately picked up the accent. We were able to experience a church service at Wallens Creek Covenant Church where Clint attended many services growing up and whose Camp he worked at for several summers. He hadn't been back in about 10 years and everyone there was SO excited to see him and to meet this curious Californian bride they'd all heard about. I shook many hands and heard many voices lifted in hymnal song, harmonizing in that ol' bluegrassy kind of way. It was totally surreal to me. I loved it.
We got to stand on the place in the Cumberland Gap where Virginia, Tennessee and Kentucky meet. We went antiquing around those areas, visited various relatives, played rounds of Hand and Foot and had the most marvelous time.
We headed back up north to spend the last couple days of our trip with friends of Clint's and with his mama (who we talked into getting a new 'do' and does she look sassy!). Clint's friends Adam (the best man at our wedding) and Nikki are awesome... they are the type who stand by you through thick and thin, always encouraging and praying for you. They have 2 adorable children, Jacob and Lily. I was so thankful we got to spend time with them, albeit brief. We also got to spend an afternoon with a woman Clint has known his whole life, Wendy. I'd heard many stories about this world-traveling woman from England who, upon seeing Stickleyville, decided with her husband to settle there. They built a house not far from Clint's homestead and their little daughter was Clint's sister's best friend. Wendy recently relocated up near D.C. to live with family and we had a beautiful time of sharing. She even gave Clint a children's book about sharks that he used to look at all the time at her house growing up. Tears flowed abundantly.
What I learned while in Virginia is that prejudices are stupid and they trap us. My heart is still warm with the homefires I got to partake of, both spiritual and literal, while visiting friends and family in Appalachia. I think my husband is really fortunate to have grown up with such caring, servant-hearted, hard-working, family-oriented people. I reap the benefits daily.
