Come Have a Look

From "Have-A-Look Poems" by Elkins, WV, native, B. Wees

The Old Store

'Tis three score years and maybe more
Since father started this old store,
A little "shack" not long nor wide--
So folks about the country side
Could "Have a Look."

And to this "shack" planked up and down,
Located seven miles from town;
And from the rail road thirty six--
The folks would come, talk politics
And "Have a Look."

And underneath that clapboard roof
He sold 'em calico's and snuff;
Kentucky Jeans and cow hide boots--
Some with high heels for gay "galoots"
To "Have a Look."

From Webster, through the muddy roads
The good were hauled by wagon loads,
And sold at prices fair and square
So people came from far and near
To "Have a Look."

And there on rainy days and nights
On nail kegs 'neath the smoky lights
Would sit a gang of gray haired boys
And chuckle o'er their old time joys
And "Have a Look."

Then Vig and Amby would come in
And "chune" up the old violin
And play some old toe-twisting tune--
'Twould start a hoe-down might soon
Then "Have a Look."

And old "Black Pete" and old "Black Jim"
Would tell ghost stories, ghastly and grim,
'Til all the gold in land and sea
Would not induce a boy like me
To "Have a Look."

And when the woods with music rang
Aunt Mime would bring a poke of "sang",
A cautious trader was Aunt Mime,
You bet, she always had the time
To "Have a Look."

The old store suited the old ways
But now new people and new days
Demand a store that's more complete
You'll find one here that's hard to beat,
Just "Have a Look."

Remembering Droop

A cabin on the Droop Mountain Battlefield, it serves as the park museum, 18 Oct 2008

The Ghosts of Droop Mountain
by T.C. Leonard

In the misty Blue Ridge Mountains
Where Lee and Stonewall held command
There rides a headless greycoat soldier
Who leads his vengeful rebel band
His charge stopped by a Union cannon
Which knocked him from the horse's back
The rebels turned and ran for cover
While the yankees sounded the attack
Now he leads his troop, all branded cowards
Up Droop Mountain bugles blow
To win back the lost position
They gave up seven score ago
The locals say there is a legend
Sometimes a cannon shot rings out
In the fog atop Droop Mountain
The rebel soldiers turn about
Unlucky passers-by have seen them
But their leader once again did fall
Atop an unmarked rebel gravesite
Near a yankee cannonball.


Confederate Cemetery on Droop Mountain, 18 Oct 2008.

Beartown

This past weekend, Shirley and I were in Roanoke, Virginia, where she spoke at the Society of Environmental Journalists (SEJ) Conference. We had a pretty good time there, enjoyed exploring a new city, and we really enjoyed discovering The Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory in the Valley View Mall (Yes, I finally found that elusive frozen cheesecake on a stick). But after being in the city, and hob-nobbing with journalists and reporters from around the world, I was ready for a little nature/reality so we decided to go leaf peeping in the high country of West Virginia. We went sightseeing throughout Greenbrier, Pocahontas, Webster & Nicholas Counties. In the higher elevations, the leaves were mostly gone, but in some parts they were just a little past peak. We had the best time at Beartown State Park which sits on top of Droop Mountain in Pocahontas County. I hadn't been there in years and it was even better than I remembered.



At Beartown, there are huge gulches and steep cliffs, so you are required to stay on the boardwalk at all times. The best thing about the boardwalk, it was built with the land so you may have tree's growing up through parts of it, and it may squeeze through the narrowest of passages among the cliffs. It doesn't take an imagination to know why it is called Beartown. A bear would be in heaven here, but I know for a fact that the name Bear Heaven was already taken. Bear Heaven is in Randolph County, but that is another story for another day.



At one point during our walk, Shirley and I looked at each other inquisitively. We could both sense something was different but couldn't exactly put our finger on it. Then it dawned on us. Silence. Complete and total silence was all around us. It was a very spiritual moment. We just stood there for a few minutes and looked around at the surrounding forest in amazement.



We saw a few people there, but not that many, probably no more than 6 at the most. Beartown State Park truly is one of West Virginia's best kept secrets. Beartown is one of those places where you don't just view the wilderness, for a few minutes, you actually become part of the wilderness.



Earlier, I mentioned that parts of the high country were well past peak leaf season. Well, this was one of those places. The whole area just exuded a sense of waiting...waiting for snow, waiting for cold weather, waiting for the emergence of Spring. It was cold here too, it was 40 degree's when we were there, and all I had on was a short-sleeved shirt.



There was also something about the craggy cliffs of Beartown that reminded you of your own mortality. You couldn't help but be impressed with the huge moss and lichen covered boulders. They brand upon your psyche, "I was here long before you were born, and I'll be here long after you are dust." I don't know about you, but I find that reassuring. I may be odd, but I like to see places that lend a sense of permanency in this world of craziness we live in.



I was happy that we got to share a few moments at Beartown, to reconnect, to ponder, to renew. It reaffirmed to me that God is in the details.



As we we're leaving, I couldn't help but hear Beartown whispering goodbye to us. I could have sworn that it told me, "Come here and give me a hug you big ole lump o' sugar". So I did.

The Flea Market

My Grandad's House

Nearly every Sunday when I was a kid, we’d all have breakfast at my granddads house. We’d have homemade bread and gravy. Granddad would make the gravy, and he liked it really white. It was good gravy but different to us because we usually had browned gravy with our meals. Someone would always get a tomato to eat with their gravy, and usually someone would go out to the henhouse and get some eggs to fry up as well.

After everyone had eaten their fill, we’d typically load up in the back of granddads truck, the older kids would throw an old mattress in it so the ride would be soft and we'd head off for the flea market in Bartow out in Pocahontas County. We’d always stop and pick up Grandmaw Mary and take her with us, she just loved to go to the flea market, where as she put it she “liked to look through others people’s junk”. Grandmaw would also get to see her sister-in-law, Ruby and her husband George Cromer, who sold handmade knives at the flea market.

The Burns Brood

On the way, we’d stop at Bob Bland’s above Circleville where everyone would get a pop and an ice cream. You’d be surprised at how fast an ice cream will melt when you are riding in the back of a pick-up truck in the middle of a West Virginia summer. About half-way up Elk Mountain, the ice cream would be gone and we’d start singing songs to pass the time, songs like “D-E-L-T-O-N…Delton, Delton, Delton” after the guy who blew his house up in Bennett Gap by sticking electric wires in a gallon jug of gasoline and flipping on the breaker, or so the story went. We’d also chant a tune about “Old Granny Grunt” and how she sat on a stump and commanded an audience of bulldogs who barked at her genitalia. Of course, no trip was complete without singing that classic ode about diarrhea, “you’re walking down the hall and you hear something fall, diarrhea, uh, diarrhea”. There were only a few set lines to that song, and the real joy of it was in making up new verses to go along with the cadence.

Pretty soon, we’d get to the flea market and spend a couple of hours there. After we’d made our purchases or complained about the lack of selection that week, we’d pick up Granny who’d always be at George & Ruby’s table, and go out to the Dairy King that was just down the road from the flea market. We’d usually get an ice cream or a hamburger and fries, whichever we wanted. The Dairy King only had a walk-up window to order at, and picnic tables out to the side to eat at.

My brother Jason, my uncle Tom and me.

I remember one time, Grandmaw Mary ordered a hamburger with mustard, paid for it and then stepped to the side so other people could place their order. Everyone else that ordered and gotten their food, and were eating, after about 20 minutes, the girl came to the window and looked at Grandmaw and asked, “May I help you?”. Granny retorted, “Yes, you can, you can give me my hamburger with mustard! Did you have to kill the cow to get it?” They had completely forgotten about grandmaw’s order. Even at her elderly age, Grandmaw commanded their attention really fast and it wasn’t long before they gave her the infamous hamburger with mustard AND her money back.

After that trip every time we went to the Dairy King, Grandmaw would always ask Mom, “Do you think if I cut a fit on ‘em again that they’ll give me another free hamburger?”