Being of These Hills

Being of These Hills BuI Best As I sit here in early April to write a response to Mr. Richardson's assault on studies Appalachian, I am cognizant of the fact that my neighbors will soon be climbing the mountain behind my house, which the Kentucky Supreme Court has recently verified that I own, in search of that juicy springtime treat, the morel—or dry-land fish. If they are lucky and I am at home, they will stop by my house and give me a bag full as they leave. My wife will fry them shortly afterward, as one fries fish, and I will again eat a delicacy and also pay homage to tradition. In paying such homage, I would undoubtedly cause discomfort to many of those who in my formative years, including college at Berea, tried to wean me away from such hillbilly carryings on. "You must forget who you are," they would not-so-subtly hint, "and get on with the serious business ofbecoming a genuine, generic American." This was the highest aspiration anyone in the mountainous backyards of several Southern states should hope for. "Come down off the mountain and out of your garden," they would say. "Buy your food wrapped in cellophane [now Saran wrap] and embrace only the traditions which were canned eons ago by the cultural elites of selected portions of the old world [or now on MTV]." It puzzles me that he takes comfort in being American Generic. I think in adolescence most of us have a desire to "fit in" with the widest possible group of people our age. For many of us, adolescence lasts a long time as we wait until our early thirties before being ready for the job market, and "fitting in" remains an unspoken goal which our actions belie. Carl Jung's The Undiscovered Selfwould be a good source of guidance for problems brought about by extended adolescence. That Jesse Stuart is from the mountains does not lessen the stature of his writings and make him merely "regional." All good writing is regional (and universal) and contains solid mythic elements. Moses didn't float down the Mississippi and the Children of Israel didn't walk to the promised land when the Gulf of Mexico parted. Stories happen somewhere. Bill Best is a faculty member at Berea College where he teaches English and water aerobics. For many years he was director ofBerea's well-known Upward Bound program. He is the author of several books and numerous articles about Appalachian projects and programs. 16 Where did he get the idea that one can gain either fame or fortune participating in Appalachian Studies? (Unless, of course, one is from outside the region and writes for Broadway or Hollywood.) Those of us who labor in the Appalachian garden do so in order that children growing up in the region will someday be able to understand the universal by seeing their own experiences legitimized by the public schools. We hope those who have been miseducated by those generic public schools and missionary colleges or equally generic state colleges and universities might finally have the chance to understand and appreciate the heritage they are surrounded by but which is usually omitted from the schoolbooks and teacher training. Mr. Richardson's attitude reminds me very much of some of the attitudes of many of my college freshman classmates. Nothing hurt worse than being "of the hills. It was bad enough to be "from" but "of was intolerable. To escape to the "Promised Land," meaning "anywhere outside" but usually somewhere north, as quickly as possible was the goal. One can go from Lynch to Lexington to Louisville and never leave Appalachia if one chooses. The greatest concentration of Eastern Kentuckians I know about occurs each Saturday morning in Lexington as Eastern Kentuckians who have moved to Lexington over the past sixty years start lining up at 6:00 a.m. to buy the many varieties of "greasy beans" and other "heirloom" vegetables sold at the Lexington Farmers' Market. I can almost tell the county where a buyer originated by the vegetables requested. The buyers might no longer live in Eastern Kentucky but Eastern Kentucky...