I told my physician that I seemed to be in the tertiary stage of the disease. He looked at me for a long time before saying,
“Do you know what that means?”
I gave him a puzzled look, cocked my head, and waited for him to go on.
“In this case, it would mean you are dead.”
“Oh. Well. No. I’m not dead. I’m feeling much better at the core of things, but I’m still sick. What stage is that?”
Continue readingIf people had taglines, what would yours be?
My blog has a tagline of A Hillbilly Diva’s Blatherings which I really like. The blog is just that. My thoughts on sundry things, events, etc. It doesn’t have a strong focus other than Appalachia and my love for this place. And diva? Well, that goes without saying.
But do I want to use that as my tagline? Probably not. It doesn’t encompass all of who I am which gets me to the rub. Am I looking for a tagline for me as a writer? Or as an overall person?
And that gets messy. At least right now, my identity is so wrapped up in writing that it is hard to separate it from me. It took me a long time to find my life’s calling and I’m not going to abandon it now. While my writing may or may not scream Appalachia, I’m not sure I do though the diva is certainly on point.
Continue readingI am the magician’s assistant or I used to be. I think I am on my way out. I strut in sequins and spangles and fringe. I wear my own top hat and stiletto heels. Heavy eye makeup. The men in the audience sit a little straighter when I come on stage.
That’s how it used to be.
The magician too has grayed at the temples. There’s a touch of white in his neatly trimmed beard. He is “distinguished”, “so handsome”, the ladies sit a little straighter when he bounces onto the stage – virile and larger than life, his black cape and cummerbund downplaying the beginning of his potbelly.
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“My road is dirt and gravel and ruts and prayers, it’s terrifying in the winter and so beautiful your heart hurts in the fullness of summer.”
I wrote those words for a digital essay I did about my house.
The same road I hate in the winter, I love this time of year — particularly early mornings when the mist is still settled in the lowlands and the tall grasses sparkle in the light of rising sun. Inevitably, there will be deer with their fawns. I forget that deer are not a daily occurrence for all folks. Beautiful creatures and the little ones too make your heart hurt with their youth and beauty. There are rabbits and I can hear the peepers in the pond. If I’m lucky, the flock of wild turkey will make an appearance. They are so ugly they are beautiful – especially the Old Tom who has lived a pugilistic life to keep his harem. He struts with pride and the ladies and their young’uns follow.
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W. Va. Fur and Root 