Stories abound and echo off these Appalachian walls, lifted on the gentle breeze from haller tu’ holler. They haunt about and tell of what was and how ‘tis we‘ve come by here‘s, so’s many a years ago. Iffen you listen late in the evening, a sittin’ on the porch, you might’s just catch one, a tale, in earshot, mixed in amongst the crickets and frogs. Those stories are our heritage. They are our strength. They are our prayers. They are us. We are blessed to be upon this hallow ground.
Author’s Suggestion: Whether you live in these mountains or not, or drive through on the Blue Ridge Parkway, you might wanna check out James Wright, the late Poet Laureate of Appalachia. Or follow Tipper Pressley, overn’ Brasstown, North Carolina, https://blindpigandtheacorn.com/
Also watch for the chapter, “The Appalachian Diaspora,” in “My Wrinkle in Time: My
Memoirs” by Tom Tenbrunsel (to be published 2022).
*photo of the “Smokey Mountains” by me
Poet Laureate of Appalachia 2022