July 2023

Beartown State Park

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Walter didn’t walk.  He ambled.  Today, though, he had a destination.

Walter wasn’t much of a planner, preferring to be spontaneous or, as he put it, just going with the flow.  But the flow today, required some preparation.  He had packed a lunch:  cheese sandwich, apple, Hostess pink Sno Balls and a bottle of Gatorade.  Green. 

He had seen the photo in a magazine.  Beartown.  He was even intrigued by the name.  A Vietnam memorial to a lost son deep in the heart of the West Virginia high mountains.  A series of boardwalks and large rocks, verdant and mysterious.  A sanctuary, sacred and oozing peace.  The perfect place to soothe a soul or lift a spirit.

Somewhere he could amble, but he had to get there first. 

Not yet dawn and the day was drizzly.  He threw a poncho in the backpack with his lunch and DSLR. Yup, he’d pulled out the big guns for Beartown.  It looked like a photographer’s dream location – moody yet tranquil.  He wondered if there were really bear up there on that part of Droop Mountain.  Droop Mountain, for sure, but in this state park?  He didn’t know.

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Come Hear Me Read

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Come hear me read! I’ll be reading from my essays for the Museum of the American Military Museum as well as from my memoir and novel (both in progress) and my blog. If you have a military background of any sort, the readings may provoke nostalgia. If you don’t, you’ll get a glimpse into a world you didn’t know existed.

The bio in the photo reads:

Connie Kinsey is a former military brat who has put down deep roots in a converted barn on a dirt road at the top of a hill in West Virginia. She is pursuing happiness, one cup of coffee at a time. Her award-winning writing has been published online and in print.

She is also a spoken word artist and the Writer-in-Residence for the Museum of the American Military Family. Connie has blogged at https://wvfurandroot.com since 2008 and is wild about comments. You can reach her by email at c_kinsey@frontier.com or on Facebook at http;//www.facebook.com/ConnieKinseyWriter.  Her Twitter handle is TRConnie.

Enjoy the beauty and power of your whatever.

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The two of us, Charlene and me, were either giddy or angry, one or the other, at this stage of life.  Of course, we were.  We were 13 and hormonal as only pubescent teenagers can be. 

The air smelled of fried foods and popcorn, horse manure, and the first hint of cool, crisp autumn days.  It was October in coastal Carolina and the heat was waning.  We actually had long sleeves on.

Photo by Devon Rogers on Unsplash

The sound of barkers, the music from the individual rides, the roar of the roller coaster.  Our senses were on high alert with all the stimuli – the smells, the sounds, the feel of cool air and a breeze rippling our long hair. – Charlene was a blonde, and I was a brunette — both of us impossibly skinny and tall.

The night of the carnival we were giddy – in love with life, comfortable in our friendship, full of laughter, and looking to meet our true loves.  Or at least someone interesting. 

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