Friday, June 11, 2010
Lookout Tower -- 360-degree Views
Also at Pipestem State Park is a Lookout Tower, with gorgeous views .... (David took a panoramic set of images, of which one is above).
The group who made it to the top ...
Mini-Golf
After work on Thursday, many of us headed to play mini-golf at the nearby (and astonishingly large) Pipestem State Park.
Saying Goodbye is Hard
We finished up at Iris' and Tommy's house on Thursday afternoon (all but a bit of trim in the back, which a few of us polished off Friday first thing). They hugged all of us, tearfully, repeatedly exclaiming "I could keep every one of you!"
Before and After
The bottom shot is of Iris' and Tommy's house right after we arrived; the bottom one is what it looked like after we finished.
Mutual Compassion
As humans, we constantly struggle with our identities. I am a biracial woman. I am black and white. I have grown up in a predominately all white town and have been told that I am either too black or too white. I have rarely been accepted as both. In fact, the most obvious identification people make is that I am not white. Yet, what is difficult about that, is that I am white. I am half white, and in an all white world it is intimidating to be different and I am struggling to find my place in this world. I am constantly searching for a place or a group of people that will accept me for who I am. And with this disconnect and perceived lack of acceptance comes fear. I know that I obtain only a few strong connections to people in this world, and it is easy to feel alone because I am different. I feared that by coming to West Virginia, where only 3.6% of the population is African-American, my difference would be highlighted and I wouldn't be accepted.
Yet, I have been pleasantly surprised by the hospitality and warm welcomes that I have received during my time here. I have made the effort to introduce myself and in return, I have been greeted with open arms and smiles. These gestures were a total surprise to me because I was expecting blatant racism that would break me down, fiber by fiber, and cause me to mentally deteriorate. But I have had the best experience here. Working with Iris and Tommy, the owners of the house, and getting to know them and their story, has inspired me and helped me to realize that human beings are truly and innately kind. When people show kindness and care towards others in need, things like skin color, religious background, etc. become insignificant. In the end, your benevolent actions are graciously accepted, and this exchange generates a rare and precious thing, mutual compassion.
Yet, I have been pleasantly surprised by the hospitality and warm welcomes that I have received during my time here. I have made the effort to introduce myself and in return, I have been greeted with open arms and smiles. These gestures were a total surprise to me because I was expecting blatant racism that would break me down, fiber by fiber, and cause me to mentally deteriorate. But I have had the best experience here. Working with Iris and Tommy, the owners of the house, and getting to know them and their story, has inspired me and helped me to realize that human beings are truly and innately kind. When people show kindness and care towards others in need, things like skin color, religious background, etc. become insignificant. In the end, your benevolent actions are graciously accepted, and this exchange generates a rare and precious thing, mutual compassion.
Maya Hurley-Wales '11
Sometime earlier this week--the days have blended together a bit-- I began weeding Iris's garden. Before this project I had worked with the group, hauling out pieces of a retaining wall that had kept the once-tidy garden from sliding into the patio. We hauled out fallen pieces of the garden, too, and pieces of garbage from the renters who had destroyed the wall and trashed the house. Clearing the patio had been rewarding, but as others settled into scraping away peeling paint, I found myself on the periphery, wandering without purpose. Looking at the overgrown and slumping garden, I realized there was something useful I could do.
Before I started weeding, I consulted with Iris about which plants she wanted me to leave in the garden. "There's not too much anymore," she told me, before pointing out her irises, of which there had once been many more, and the rosebush a relative who had since died had given her. It was clear from the way she talked about it that the garden meant a lot to her, and its bedraggled and overgrown state impeded her feeling at home. These plants were both sources of joy for Iris and sources of history. She was also incredibly knowledgeable, much more than I felt as I began pulling weeds. At first I tread lightly and stuck with pulling out only the tall grass I knew for sure was unwanted. I didn't want to remove any plant that Iris valued as part of her home. As the week went on and the grass disappeared, I began to venture further into the weeds, removing outsiders from trash to Queen Anne's Lace.
After a few days of weeding, the garden was as good as I thought it would get, considering that I did not want to cause the whole garden to crumple into the patio below. This morning, however, David Rost asked me if I wanted to go shopping with him because he wanted to buy Iris some plants to surprise her. Delighted that I could see this project beyond the stage of bare soil, I helped select the last two peonies (piney roses down here) as we had recently been told it is believed in Appalachia that they ward off evil spirits. We also picked out two irises, Iris's favorite flower, as well as two lilies and several flowering plants for hanging baskets and window boxes that I had found at the house.
Arriving back to the site, lunch had begun so I joined the group on the grass. David began unloading the van as Tommy, Iris's husband, looked on. Iris came out to see what was going on, and David called her over to tell her that we had bought her some perennials to remember us by in future years. I watched her face carefully as she absorbed our purchases and their bright flowers. She held her hand over her face as tears came to her eyes. Later in the afternoon, she reappeared saying that she had stopped crying now. "My garden is coming back," she said several times.
Iris fielded several cell phone calls this afternoon, each time telling the caller about the new flowers in the garden and the wonderful group working at her house. As we got ready to leave, Iris said "I could keep every one of you!" I sensed that this house, with its new coat of paint and its flower beds rid of invasive plants, felt like home again. Iris was empowered by these changes, as other improvements, from home insurance to a water collection suddenly felt within reach. I too felt a sense of home and belonging in my connection to Iris and the flowers in which she took so much pride and in my connection to the contribution made by our group.
-- Laura Twichell
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Rules for Teachers ... and Students
Perhaps inevitably, the Coal Camp Schoolhouse drew a lot of us. Both adults and kids fixated on the lists of punishments. Among them:
- for boys and girls playing together, 4 lashes.
- Telling Lyes, 7 lashes (common trust!!)
- For Waring Long Finger Nails, 2 lashes
- For Coming to School with Dirty Faces and Hands, 2 lashes
- For Misbehaving to Girls, 10 lashes
- For Making Swings and Swinging on Them, 7 lashes
But the adults also got a kick out of the rules for teachers which were, to say the least, gender-biased.
From "Rules for Teachers, 1872":
- Women teachers who marry or engage in unseemly conduct will be dismissed
- Men teachers may take one evening a week for courting purposes, two evenings if they go to church regularly
- After ten hours in school, the teachers may spend the remaining time reading the Bible or other good books
Hmmm!
"Fire in the Hole!"
Painting, painting, painting! Amidst all of the chaos that comes with painting a house as a group we've all become closer. We talk to people we don’t normally talk to, we're making new friends, new alliances, collecting new ideas and experiences.
Yesterday it rained, and as anyone who might know something about painting, you can't paint in the rain, so we all went to Beckley and visited a mine. After driving the 20 mile trip in our caravan of white vans, we all piled into a modified mine car equipped with handrails and cushioned seating. As we descended into a rather uninviting cold hole in the ground, I noticed electric lights running the length of the tunnel through solid rock, a luxury miners wouldn't have had while they made their wages of 2 dollars per day. Instead they used kettle pot lights or calcium carbide lights to see their way as much as five miles underneath the surface. Down at the bottom of the tunnel we could see the 18-inch coal seam which people would have dug before this particular mine was made a museum. Miners would crawl on their shoulders and pick and shovel and blast the coal out of this small space, all the while listening for "Fire in the hole" and watching for large petrified tree stumps called kettle bottoms. It was a dangerous job to say the least. It still is. But our country still needs coal, so someone's got to dig it.
Before I got to West Virginia, I thought that people only went down in mines to dig for coal. I didn’t know what coal seams, mountaintop removal, or strip mining was. Mountaintop removal and strip mining really hurts the environment. Basically what they do is take the tops, like several thousand cubic feet of rock and coal and debris, and remove all the coal and dump the rest into valleys. This "fill" drastically changes the ecology of the area and whole waterways have been diverted by this practice. Another problem with mountaintop removal is that it unearths elements buried under the mountain that would be harmless in small concentrations and puts large amounts of them in the waterways and then all around wherever the water goes. Selenium is one of those elements. It is fine in small concentrations, but toxic to animals and to humans in large quantities. Currently there are a few pieces of legislation and mandates going through various authorities to help stop or limit the amount of selenium coal companies should be allowed to dump into nearby waterways, but we all know how slow these things go through the system.
One of the solutions I've thought of for myself is to just conserve energy. We wouldn’t need coal if we used alternative energy resources. But then again, all those miners who are lucky to have work would be out of the job and perhaps poverty would get even worse here. It's a tough conundrum.
Rebecca Colson '11
The Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine
As you may have heard, rain curtailed our painting time on Wednesday, for obvious reasons. But we had a rain plan in mind: a visit to the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine, about an hour away . To be entirely honest, we chaperones were torn between wanting to work a full, productive day and wanting to be able to take students to this mine, given how central mining is to Appalachia's past and present (and, in some form, future). The weather resolved this dilemma, and we piled into vans for the twisty-over-the-mountains trip.
There were two, equally fascinating, components to the mine. First was the underground tour, which Rebecca has written beautifully about (see next post). My dreams last night were haunted by images of men lying on their sides, often in inches of muddy watter, in a space barely two feet high, working a seam. The veteran coal miner who guided our tour was blunt about the value of human lives: the ponies that hauled the coal out of the tunnels, he told us, cost $50 dollars each; miners were free -- and plentiful. If the order came to evacuate, they would hustle the ponies out, leaving the men to fend for themselves. Many of the images above come from that tour.
The second was the reconstructed Coal Camp, the self-contained community where miners and their families lived and worked -- complete with school, church, post office, barber's shop, doctor and Company store. The system was one that can only be called indentured servitude, as the Company controlled prices and even issued its own scrip, only usable internally. The sharp contrast between the three story, nicely-appointed Superintendent's House and the small Miner's House embodied the hierarchical differences.
Some Reflection Quotations
Several students have asked me to post the quotes I have been using during our reflection sessions. (FYI -- we've done whole-group written, then discussion reflections, on Mon and Wed evening and will again on Friday; Tues and Thurs afternoons I've offered optional sessions). So here they are -- for them, and for you, to chew upon.
- I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.-- Edmund Everett Hale
- “If we do not act, we shall surely be dragged down the long, dark and shameful corridors of time reserved for those who possess power without compassion, might without morality, and strength without insight.”—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
- "If you have come to help me you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bout up with mine, then let us work together."-- an Aboriginal Australian woman
- We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are."-- Cicero
Perpspective
I was in the kitchen of Mrs. Raines' home, cleaning the layers of dirt off of her kitchen cabinet and I began to wonder how it got there and why it remained. Piles of her life were scattered throughout her home, we couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Walking through the kitchen to the bathroom, we passed through her bedroom. Piles of clothes lay on the floor, and her doll collection bordered the room. It was not a lack of belongings that haunted us, it was the abundant mess of chipped representations of memories. We felt like we were seeing her life in disorder, and our muddy work boots seemed too heavy in her fragile home.
Moving outdoors, painting was refreshing. Her home seems to be a place of transition with people constantly entering in and out. The tangibility of the paint seemed to stabilize and bring to life the contours of her weathered home. There was a powerful feeling in our work, as if our hands could stop the decaying of her home, and as if we could compensate for her physical inability and lack of resources. As walls were scrubbed clean and painted, we gained hope, because we felt like we were doing the right thing. Yet, it occurred to us that the definition of "hopeful" was subjective. Perhaps the fresh coat of paint on her walls appeared less bright to her eyes than it did to ours. The concept of place shaping perspective hit us hard as we overheard a conversation with a local later in the day.
At our visit to a schoolhouse in a Coal Camp at Beckley Exhibition, an employee talked to one of the chaperones about her views on women working in the coalmines. She discussed a female friend who works as a miner and although she recognizes the intensity of the work, she said she believes it is a man's job. In the same way she described the phenomenon of gender influencing job opportunity, we observed how residence can define perspective.
Moving outdoors, painting was refreshing. Her home seems to be a place of transition with people constantly entering in and out. The tangibility of the paint seemed to stabilize and bring to life the contours of her weathered home. There was a powerful feeling in our work, as if our hands could stop the decaying of her home, and as if we could compensate for her physical inability and lack of resources. As walls were scrubbed clean and painted, we gained hope, because we felt like we were doing the right thing. Yet, it occurred to us that the definition of "hopeful" was subjective. Perhaps the fresh coat of paint on her walls appeared less bright to her eyes than it did to ours. The concept of place shaping perspective hit us hard as we overheard a conversation with a local later in the day.
At our visit to a schoolhouse in a Coal Camp at Beckley Exhibition, an employee talked to one of the chaperones about her views on women working in the coalmines. She discussed a female friend who works as a miner and although she recognizes the intensity of the work, she said she believes it is a man's job. In the same way she described the phenomenon of gender influencing job opportunity, we observed how residence can define perspective.
Alexis Cheney '11 and Keely Hurd '11
A New Understanding of Indirect Service
In the past I often felt powerless when I thought of the many social issues that exist in society, having many ideas for how to change them, but not feeling as though I could make a measurable difference in helping many of these complex problems. Because many of these problems, such as poverty, are so complex and deeply rooted, and take many people to solve, I often feel that I cannot make a major difference in society. Through service I have realized that although an individual cannot often solve society's major problems on their own, they can impact the lives of other individuals in a powerful way by helping to improve some aspect of their lives, and through conversing with them. Through speaking with those whom I have served in the past, particularly on CA's trips to Washington, DC this past summer and New York this past March working with the homeless populations in these cities, I have had the chance to deeply connect with those I have served through meaningful conversations with them.
These interactions have profoundly enhanced the way I view service, even when that service was indirect and not working personally with those I was serving. On this trip I have really felt satisfied with the work we have all accomplished so far, as we have watched Eunice's house transform over the past three days. The new coat of paint made the entire house look much brighter and in better shape. Eunice's family members who occasionally came in or out of the house also expressed their gratitude and appreciation for our work.
Although Eunice has rarely left her house during the time we have been working with her, and I have not yet had the chance to speak with her or with any of her family members, I still feel that we are really helping her and her family by doing something that she would not otherwise be able to do because of her illness. Just seeing the tangible progress on the house has allowed me to realize this impact, which I had previously needed interactions to affirm. I hope that I do get the chance by the end of this week to talk with Eunice and her family, but I now understand that there are many reasons why they may either be hesitant to or not be able to speak with us.
Through our progress I have been able to envision how these repairs will help Eunice, and has also allowed me to think about the many challenges she struggles with of being disabled and elderly. Although the many issues of rural poverty are so large and complex, I feel that we are making a small but significant difference on the lives of Eunice and her family. This experience of service, although more indirect than some, has taught me that service does not necessarily require personal interaction in order to be meaningful for everyone involved.
These interactions have profoundly enhanced the way I view service, even when that service was indirect and not working personally with those I was serving. On this trip I have really felt satisfied with the work we have all accomplished so far, as we have watched Eunice's house transform over the past three days. The new coat of paint made the entire house look much brighter and in better shape. Eunice's family members who occasionally came in or out of the house also expressed their gratitude and appreciation for our work.
Although Eunice has rarely left her house during the time we have been working with her, and I have not yet had the chance to speak with her or with any of her family members, I still feel that we are really helping her and her family by doing something that she would not otherwise be able to do because of her illness. Just seeing the tangible progress on the house has allowed me to realize this impact, which I had previously needed interactions to affirm. I hope that I do get the chance by the end of this week to talk with Eunice and her family, but I now understand that there are many reasons why they may either be hesitant to or not be able to speak with us.
Through our progress I have been able to envision how these repairs will help Eunice, and has also allowed me to think about the many challenges she struggles with of being disabled and elderly. Although the many issues of rural poverty are so large and complex, I feel that we are making a small but significant difference on the lives of Eunice and her family. This experience of service, although more indirect than some, has taught me that service does not necessarily require personal interaction in order to be meaningful for everyone involved.
Katie McCann '11
Taking out the Trash
There are moments in life when we automatically jump to conclusions and it is impossible to stop our preconceptions from guiding our initial conclusions.
On Monday morning as the heat settled and the first coats of paint dried, several students began to pick up garbage around the garden. Though I was not assigned to that job, while painting I observed the circumstances.
Piled underneath the wooden porch, rotten garbage bags lay, most likely placed there months ago. Immediately I became frustrated that after traveling 10 hours we were taking out the trash. Surely amidst the poverty there was something more important than picking up trash…I can pick up trash at home, that’s not what I should be doing here. I want to feel like I am making a difference.
But here's the catch, the woman we are helping is on oxygen and she physically cannot pick up the trash.
There is a fine line between want and need, a divider of choice. I have the choice to pick up the trash, she doesn’t. So who am I to decide what I am worthy of doing--what is fitting for my description of serving. Yes, it sounds clichéd, but serving is about the little things. The moments where, rather than projecting my ability of choice onto others, I simply say "I'm here to help", and if that means taking out the trash, then that's what I'll do.
On Monday morning as the heat settled and the first coats of paint dried, several students began to pick up garbage around the garden. Though I was not assigned to that job, while painting I observed the circumstances.
Piled underneath the wooden porch, rotten garbage bags lay, most likely placed there months ago. Immediately I became frustrated that after traveling 10 hours we were taking out the trash. Surely amidst the poverty there was something more important than picking up trash…I can pick up trash at home, that’s not what I should be doing here. I want to feel like I am making a difference.
But here's the catch, the woman we are helping is on oxygen and she physically cannot pick up the trash.
There is a fine line between want and need, a divider of choice. I have the choice to pick up the trash, she doesn’t. So who am I to decide what I am worthy of doing--what is fitting for my description of serving. Yes, it sounds clichéd, but serving is about the little things. The moments where, rather than projecting my ability of choice onto others, I simply say "I'm here to help", and if that means taking out the trash, then that's what I'll do.
Claire Wright '11
"Is Painting a House Really Making a Difference?"
Some version of that question has troubled most of us, at least fleetingly. It has come up in lots of conversations, both formal and informal. During a whole group reflection last night, students spoke about the difference between a house and a home, about the essential quality of dignity that a fresh layer of paint (and much weeding/brush clearing) can give to the human beings who live inside the structure.
I think that it has been easier for those of us working at Iris' and Tommy's house to sense that immediate connection, for they keep coming outside to measure our progress. Their big grins chase away any doubts about the worth of our work. It's been a bit more complicated for those at Eunice Raines' home, for she is more private and has been considerably less interactive with those working there. The next several posts are from students who have asked to write, and many comment in some way on these differing dynamics.
I think that it has been easier for those of us working at Iris' and Tommy's house to sense that immediate connection, for they keep coming outside to measure our progress. Their big grins chase away any doubts about the worth of our work. It's been a bit more complicated for those at Eunice Raines' home, for she is more private and has been considerably less interactive with those working there. The next several posts are from students who have asked to write, and many comment in some way on these differing dynamics.
Iris and Tommy
Here are Iris and Tommy, the people who live in one of the houses where we're working. They are very outgoing and interactive, and love to sit and talk with any of us, telling us stories of their lives and helping us understand their part of the world. Their warmth and kindness, smiles and laughter have made us feel powerfully at home, and their obvious joy as the painting progresses (we got some of the trim done yesterday, which really makes a difference) speaks volumes about how eager they are to make their house, trashed by irresponsible renters, a real home. They have made us lemonade and ice tea and, on the first afternoon, Iris baked us a cherry cobbler (with cherries from their tree), insisting that everyone have a piece. Their dogs (everywhere underfoot and a bit paint-splattered by now) have also sped the easy sense of connection that we feel.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Stories of the Mountains
Tuesday evening, we were privileged to learn from John Wyatt, a founding member of the Appalachian Cultural Heritage Alliance. He works to preserve and pass along the rich cultural heritage of Appalachia to young people, through songs and stories. He is a master bard, in all the best ways.
He told us of growing up on Sewell Mountain (about 25 miles from where we are staying) as a boy, and attending a one-room schoolhouse where he met his wife. Today, he still lives on that mountain, having seen the world and cities (he can do a mean Boston accent) and been drawn back to the mountains. As he explained, his childhood house had "running water" -- grab a bucket and run down to the stream, a chore that often fell to him. At one time his father worked as a coal miner, earning $2 a day. He spoke powerfully about the ways Appalachia is changing, and the rapid pace of that change in his 60-odd years. As he explained, he grew up the way multiple generations of his family had grown up, farming and practicing nearly-entire self-sufficiency, learning the use of every single root and plant (he even brought a bag of greenery and taught us what each root or leaf was good for). And now, Appalachia (pronounced "Ap-ah-lAH-chia" locally) has entered the 'jet age,' though it remains beset by significant poverty. He also spoke at some length about mining, especially mountain-top mining and its environmental ravages.
Mixed in were many songs. Here are some video clips of them, posted with John's eager permission.
He told us of growing up on Sewell Mountain (about 25 miles from where we are staying) as a boy, and attending a one-room schoolhouse where he met his wife. Today, he still lives on that mountain, having seen the world and cities (he can do a mean Boston accent) and been drawn back to the mountains. As he explained, his childhood house had "running water" -- grab a bucket and run down to the stream, a chore that often fell to him. At one time his father worked as a coal miner, earning $2 a day. He spoke powerfully about the ways Appalachia is changing, and the rapid pace of that change in his 60-odd years. As he explained, he grew up the way multiple generations of his family had grown up, farming and practicing nearly-entire self-sufficiency, learning the use of every single root and plant (he even brought a bag of greenery and taught us what each root or leaf was good for). And now, Appalachia (pronounced "Ap-ah-lAH-chia" locally) has entered the 'jet age,' though it remains beset by significant poverty. He also spoke at some length about mining, especially mountain-top mining and its environmental ravages.
Mixed in were many songs. Here are some video clips of them, posted with John's eager permission.
Tuesday Reflection
As our workday drew to an end, Iris asked us to gather around her porch so that she could share a story. Freckled with white after a long day of painting, we listened with as much attention as we could muster. Iris began to tell us about a rough time when she couldn’t be home with her family for Christmas, and a woman walked into the beauty shop Iris was working in, and entered the room where Iris was pricing beauty products in the back of the shop. She asked Iris to help her find some shampoos. After finding suitable products for her blond tendrils, the woman asked her if she had found the lord. Iris immediately replied, "Yes, ma'am," and the woman said, "Oh I knew I had asked the right person. I have something for you." The woman handed her a bible, which Iris procured for us from under her arm as her story drew to a finish. She held it out to us and said, "So what do you think? Was she an angel?" We were all silent. I glanced at the faces of my peers, looking for their reactions, but was disappointed by their lack of intelligibility. She eagerly awaited our responses, but received none.
But I had one, although I was too afraid to share it with the group because I didn’t want to speak out of turn and potentially offend some one, as I have been known to do. So as we dispersed and prepared to leave, I remembered something that my grandmother told me on a recent trip to New Orleans when I was being somewhat difficult: "If you open up to people, they will open up to you back." And so I decided that she needed to know how much her story spoke to me. I said, "I just wanted you to know that my CCD teacher has always told me that when you need god the most, he will come to you. Your story has furthered my understanding of her words, and I am so grateful that you shared it with us." I was unsure how she would respond but was surprised in the best way when she began to cry and replied, "Oh I just know it was the lord with me. I needed him then and he came to me, and when I needed him now he brought me you." I was overcome with emotion and it finally registered with me what I had struggling to fully understand during this trip.
I had been questioning the value of our service to her and wondered if we could be doing more, and I finally understood what Shelly, the director of Appalachian Folk Life Center, had told us our opening night. She explained that even though it did not seem like these people were necessarily the most needy people, it takes time to understand their situations and the work we are doing is truly important. This experience with Iris where I overcame my fears and spoke to her from my heart really changed my entire perspective on this trip and I left the site that day sobbing, and filled with a new sense of hope and drive to work. It seemed that everything I have been learning recently about myself and about my relationship to others was integrated into one final lesson embodied by Iris. It's really true; if you open up to others, they will open up to you back, and I am so grateful for this experience.
-- Stephanie Spies '12
Day 1 (and 2) at the other worksite
A fuller writeup is coming -- look for it tomorrow. But I'm posting pictures now!
We too have been scraping and painting the exterior of a house, home to Iris and Tommy. We also cleared away the remnants of a concrete retaining wall. Some intrepid types are redoing the driveway, using a mixture of those concrete blocks (crushed) and dirt.
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