Douglas Smith

Douglas Smith, Flea Market Vendor; lives between Rose Hill and Ewing, Virginia:

My family are from Smith, Kentucky; Harlan County. [My family ended up in Detroit] for work in the auto industry. My father worked from twelve years old in the log woods. At seventeen, he went to Detroit and worked in the auto industry. He worked for Chevrolet Gear and Axle. I worked for Chevrolet for a couple of years before the all buyouts and everything happened. 

I was twenty years old [when I came back to the mountains because] basically this is home. 

(Growing up in Detroit) There actually was a few [people from the mountains there]. Actual downtown Detroit was a pretty rough place to live. At one time, you could sleep with your doors open or sleep on your lawn in the summertime, but that all changed after a while. I stayed behind locked doors, mostly. If you went to the store, the local party store, you would usually get chased; but you would never tell your parents such a thing because they wouldn't let you go back to the store, so you dealt with it. 

It’s a very beautiful place [here]. I can’t say if I wasn’t where I’m at now that I would stay here, but I’m blessed to be where I’m at [and] I’m very thankful for that. I couldn’t think of another place in the world I’d rather be. 

People aren’t as different as they used to be because you’ve got your internet, and people have changed. You don’t expect as much maybe down here [as] you would in the city. Something that’s different down here [is] the availability of services or merchandise is a little rougher here. Like I said, with the internet and stuff, you can mail order and get anything you want. In other words, the gap has closed a lot. [The internet] has turned a few people into couch potatoes outside of that, it’s a tool to be used just like any other tool. I know a few people that can’t get their nose out of the internet.

I play lead guitar. I started playing at ten, but basically as a novice, just a few chords. [I got] actually serious to play lead at sixteen. My grandmother, on my father’s side, I never got to hear her play, but she won contests and everything in pickin’ banjo. I didn’t even know that for years. A prize back then was maybe some chickens, or a pig, or something like that. My dad could play guitar pretty good. He wasn’t too knowledgeable, but what he knew, he played good. My grandfather, on his side, could play piano, which is another thing I didn’t know until he was in a nursing home and I heard him playing on the piano one day. 

I play basically a little bit of everything, but now me personally I’d rather play the harder stuff, hard rock and stuff. It’s more challenging. Here, if you’re gonna go out and play, you gotta mix it up. People have requests, ‘I wanna hear country.’ Some wanna hear rock. Classic rock is very big here. Getting’ back to the internet, I use the internet a lot to search [music]. I like new stuff, I don’t like to stay in a rut. Around here, we play a lot of classic rock like AC/DC. People always eat that up. 

I’m about as back in the hills and mountain as anybody could possibly be; so if you want to look at it that way, I’m definitely a hillbilly. All my friends and my neighbors refer to me as the ‘mountain man.’ I’ve got about one hundred forty acres between a valley and top of the mountain. My property goes to the top of the mountain. It’s very secluded. I do a lot of my own harvesting as far as deer and little bit of small game, but mostly deer. It’s very nutritious. 

I [also] have property in Smith, Kentucky. That’s the old home place. I’ve got the deed [and it] deeds back to 1902. On the deed it says ‘poles.’ You don’t have yardage, or anything like that; it’s still spelled out in poles, from one rock to a tree or whatever, so many poles. It’s a nice place. I don't visit it much because of where I’m at. Actually, it’s a stone’s throw away from where I live. As the crow flies, I could be there in ten minutes, but it’d take me an hour and a half to get there ‘cause I’d have to go ‘round the mountain or across the mountain. To me, it’s something that’ll pass on to my nephews. It’s always good to have an ace in the hole, as they say. 

(Appalachian traditions passed onto you from your parents) Just good ‘ole fashioned principles. I’ll tell you something I don’t believe, is philosophy. You can have a discussion with somebody and they want to hear a philosophical view. I always tell them I’m a biblical Christian, that I get my principles from the Bible and I could sit and philosophize ‘bout all kinds of things, but that doesn’t make it true. You know what I mean? Philosophy is just an opinion. I’m more of a ‘show me’ person. I don’t think [religion in this culture] is important enough because you have too many philosophizing about it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe just because I was raised that way; because I don't believe in a lot of the things I was taught when I was raised. I did my own research and I believe in facts. Look at it scientifically, analytical, and if it bears out then it’s true. 

[Outsiders] I’m sure they do [make fun of us]. I’ve had my own experience with people doing such things. I’d rode a horse to the nearest party store [here], and I’d tied the horse across the highway ‘cause I didn't want him to get hit, or anything. I walked over to the party store and ran into a friend of mine. He had two friends that had come in from California, and he introduced me to them. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, and they all probably had a few too many beers. The first thing his friend said to me, asked me if I wanted to chew tobacco. I commented that I didn’t use tobacco and he commented again. I just let it slide and went about my way. It was obvious he had a set stereotypical view of what southern people did.

Politics is a very big issue in the mountains. I’d rather not say too much, but if you wanted to hear some of the craziest things you’ve ever [heard] in your life, you’d have to look into the political and judicial branch of the government. You could have all kinds of laughs. You don’t have a lot of free thinkers [here in the mountains], they rely a little bit too much on their politics and on their judicial systems. Most people would rather avoid the rough waters than to stand up for their own rights. I think everybody suffers. That’s just another form of tyranny. We all suffer from that whether you know it or not. 

People are people pretty much everywhere you go. You’re always gonna run into somebody with a stereotypical view, and you’re gonna run into people that are just set in their ways; but people can change. I found that myself, you get what you put into an effort. If you treat people properly, they may be your enemy to start with, but by the time you’re done, if you’ll stick in there and be nice to people, what goes around comes around. It’s a very good rule to live by. 

Sometimes you can’t always follow that, but it’s a very good rule to treat people as you want to be treated and you’ll bring people around. You can call it Karma, you can call it what you want, but what you do to somebody else --- nobody gets away with anything. Everything you do in your life you’ll pay for someway, somewhere down the road.”

Jenn (Miller) Hesh

Jenn (Miller) Hesh, Tattoo apprentice, artist; lives between Clinchco and Norton, Virginia, works in Whitesburg, Kentucky:

“I’ve always been an artist, I guess, my whole life, and I never thought having a career centered around art was really realistic. I never thought that art school or something like that would be practical, so I was going to go into counseling, and hopefully into art therapy. And then, one day, I was taking classes out at Mountain Empire. I just decided I wanted to get an apprenticeship. So I started drawing, and I built up a little portfolio. It was just like a sketchbook, and I took it to John Haywood at The Parlor Room [in Whitesburg, Kentucky]. 

[It] feels like you have to do something. You have to leave your mark in some way or another, like to say that I was here. Or to just get everything out, that was bottled up during the day. 

For Career Day in Kindergarten, they said, ‘Dress up as what you want to be.’ We took a piece of cardboard, and we cut out a big palette for a painter, and [I] wore my Mom’s blouse, which, when I was little, was really flowy, and I went as an artist. 

When I was younger, I would paint on the walls, and I would always try to be real secretive and sneaky. Mom would finally catch me, you know eventually, and I would have something like three by three foot wide, or something pretty good size, like at the bottom, where I could have hid it. To this day, she still has those. She’ll like paint around them. They’ve [my parents] encouraged me with whatever I wanted to do. I was painting on the walls, of the house, or guitars. But they were always okay with it. I’ve always stickered, and colored, and painted.

I think when you’re younger, and you’re born here, you don’t know how to appreciate it. I grew up, and I didn’t. It was always, when I became a teenager, I’m going to get outta here. I want to go some place else, somewhere there’s stuff to do, opportunities. 

I remember being on Flag Rock, and we had gone down, and actually climbed the rock. You’re not allowed to do that. It’s trespassing, I guess, technically. But, the view up there was just gorgeous, and it really made me think, not everybody has this, and we see it every day. 

And then you go other places, big cities, and they make me nervous. I feel like you can’t trust everyone, but you can trust people here, more so. They’re going to take the time, and wait and leave the door open for you, versus somewhere else, where everybody is too busy. 

Up until then, I didn’t appreciate being here. Plus, getting out and going places like Whitesburg, where it seems like the whole community and everyone, the youth, and people like my age were saying, ‘Why should we be ashamed?’ And you’re like, “Well, yeah!” Just going out and hiking every day, and then starting to appreciate, like my grandparents, and the way they did things. Self-reliance, things like that. Why should we be ashamed of the way we talk, or the way we look, or what we do? Because, really it’s just a humble, modest way of living. 

Even just going to the beach, and the beach is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but we’ll be gone a week, and then coming home, as soon as we get to Asheville, up where you can see the mountain ranges again, I feel like I can breathe again. (Sighs) [I feel] ‘Okay, that was nice, but alright, I can let my guard back down. I’m back home, a sense of safety.’

I’m kind of glad that they [outsiders] have their misconceptions about us, because if people were flocking here, if it is the next big thing, of it becomes trendy; it kind of takes it away. People ruin everything, and it takes a certain kind of person to live here. You have to be willing to suffer, almost, for the tranquility that we do have. 

Everybody has bad things happen, but it doesn’t do much to dwell on ‘em, and I’m thankful. You know I’m really thankful, because I wouldn’t be the same person I am, as grateful a person as I am. I dealt with a lot of loss growing up. 

It’s just the whole attitude of the whole area. It’s slower. People, like I said earlier, holding the doors open for someone, and whenever you drive past someone on the road, and you know, they stop on a narrow road to let you pass. That courtesy wave that people give one another. You know, just not taking much for granted. It’s the land, the time. 

I’m happy to just be pursuing an artistic career, ‘cause I’ve told myself my whole life, art school was too expensive and it wouldn’t realistic. I think I told myself, that I couldn’t be a starving artist my whole life, but now that I am, I can be proud of that. But as far as something more physical, my boyfriend and me hiked the Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail, in Maine, Mount Katahdin. And it’s the hardest thing, hands down, I’ve ever done in my life, but it was worth it. That was gorgeous. 

I definitely think we need to improve things. Until then, people are going to keep moving away, and that doesn’t do any good. We need to keep the money in the area. The community needs to come together, ‘cause there are a lot of things, like businesses closed, and this and that and another. The town, people can petition, and keep things open. You know, not sending the money off, not shutting down businesses. They’re wanting to do a bunch of tourism type stuff, but putting a statue up on High Knob isn’t really going to give people jobs, or do anything for the community. 

Hillbilly is like the positive version of a redneck. And redneck’s not always derogatory, but it’s mostly [the way it’s] used. I don’t think hillbilly can be used in a derogatory sense at all. It’s somebody that just lives off the land. Doesn’t try, you know, and just takes enough for their own. [Hillbillies] take care of themselves, take care of their family. 

It’s really scary to think about [the region in five to ten years]. On one hand, it will be a ghost town. You’ll have to drive miles just to go to a regular store. Kids are already having to drive long distances just to go to schools anymore. The towns are trying to really exploit the land for what it is. It will be a tourist trap, like Sevierville, or Dollywood. It’s doing just that. It’s exploiting what we have. You know, all the fake moonshine and that type of stuff. There’s a line, and it’s okay for people to appreciate our culture. It’s flattering even, but people ruin everything. 

We’re not ignorant. We just know. We’re actually smart enough to know better. That’s why we choose to stay here. That’s why we choose to maybe not have the ideal, or their ideal, lifestyle, but, to slow down and enjoy life. What could be more important than that? What’s the point in living?”

Jimmy Carter (Not That Jimmy Carter)

Jimmy Carter (Not That Jimmy Carter), Retired, Currently Flea Market Vendor; Big Stone Gap, Virginia:

“[I was born in] Bartow, Florida. [I moved into the mountains] back in ‘69. I was ‘round ‘bout ten year old. My mom and dad were born in this part of the country. They loved it, and my dad would usually travel with fruit; he’d go to Michigan and pick cherries; back to Florida and [then] back here again. 

[Growing up here] was rough, because my mom and dad grew what we ate. They worked on different things and all that. I used to fox hunt, coon hunt, fishing, different kinds of things. I started to work on the coal tipple. I had to quit school and went to work. Think I was eighteen. I dropped the railroad cars; loaded them and dropped them out in front of the tipple.

[I did that] eleven years untill I got hurt. I got hurt on the job. I fell off a railroad car and injured my back. I was young; I got injured when I was twenty-five. [After that] I went into produce back three years ago. I flea market, sell produce and glassware; different things. I draw disability social security. 

I used to be a drug addict and an alcoholic. I’ve been clean going’ on twenty years now. [How I got over that] the good Lord Jesus Christ. He’s the only one that can take it away. Man can’t. My mom gave it to me in the bottle back years ago when I was first born, and everything. And when I got into the drugs I started doing’ light stuff; like Xanax’s and stuff like that. I got into the hard stuff when I first got hurt, I was twenty-five. I lived [like that] untill I was thirty-eight years old. 

I got depressed and the drugs got worse; and when the drugs got worse, I wanted to stay high all the time. The alcohol was making it worse. I would drink rubbing alcohol; anything you could [you could get] drunk on, I would use it. The lowest time was probably back in ‘round ‘91 when my dad passed away. It added to the depression and all. 

When I first got off it was back in ‘96. I was in jail down here in Wise, and the good Lord, people may not believe this, but He came into the jail cell where I was at. People says ‘the Lord don’t talk to you’, but He does. He told me, he says, ‘I got something I want you to do.’ I said, ‘Lord, what do you want me to do?’ He says, ‘I want you to work for me.’ I said, ‘What kind of work you want me to do?’ He said, ‘Preachin.’ I said, ‘Okay. If you can take away the drugs and alcohol and stuff away I will.’ He took it. I became a preacher. 

I’ve been a preacher since 1998. I’m non-denominational. Go anywhere that God says me to preach, I go. It’s been fantastic; I got my family back now. Back when I was using, my first two kids was born. My mother took them away from my first wife and me. She raised them up until around eight and nine years old. When she passed away, they moved back home to me. They respect me now, they do. My son moved out and living with a woman and other than that, I’ve got my thirteen year old daughter living with us. She’s doing good. Everything is going fantastic. 

My first wife, she passed away. She had a blood clot break loose in her body; went to her heart and went to her lungs. She drowned on her own fluids. 

I’ve got a wife now; I love her with all my heart. I met her in 1973, but at the time it wasn’t for us to get together. Thirteen years ago, God put us together. He said, ‘That’s the one I want you to marry.’ I asked her mom how [Lisa] was doin’. I said, ‘Bring her to church with you sometime.’ I wanted to see her. She came to church and God spoke to me and says, ‘That’s the one I want you to have now.’ 

This part of the country is where it’s God’s country. This is God’s country, this is. Down in Florida, I loved it down there; but up here was where I was raised up at. 

I’m a Florida cracker. I love [the word hillbilly]. I went down to Florida in ‘95 and they called me a Florida cracker. But the hillbilly mixed it in with it. They liked my accent I had; hillbilly and Florida accent together, it sounded funny to them. 

[Outsiders] got their own opinion [of mountain people]. It’s not [accurate]. Tell them to look at us like we are human. We are humans living in these mountains. We don’t live in the back woods. We live out here where the people can see us as normal people. We’re normal. We’re not some mountain man that comes out with guns and starts shootin’. 

[Parents legacy] I’m leavin’ my legacy not to see my kids grow up to be drug addicts and alcoholics. That’s the way my heart feels ‘cause I don’t want them to live like I lived. I lived the rough life. But by the grace of God is all it is.”

Mark Ison

Mark Ison, Age 22, cuts grass; Crafts Collie, pretty much near Ermine, Kentucky: 

“Growing up in this type of country, pretty much you’ve got three types of people; you got the ones who think they're city, but pretty much spent their whole life around here; you’ve got the ones who are country as crap; and then you’ve got, just, normal people. [I’m] Normal people. 

I used to hunt, but no more. Fishing, I never really got into. Pretty much all I do is skate. 

As a child, growing up in the mountains is exciting and all that because you’ve got new things to go through, the mountains, streams, all this exploring. But once you get a little bit older, growing up in the mountains gets boring because you kinda done it all. 

[Doesn’t want to stay there all his life]. I want to get out and explore more places, not just around here. I want to go overseas to Asia and visit the temples, pretty much just exploring. 

(Did growing up in Appalachia prepare you for life?) Not really, no. It showed you hard times and all that like, money issues, people getting laid off from jobs, no power sometimes. It got you used to the world, but other than that, it didn’t do much. 

The only thing’s been passed down [in his family] is racism. I know. It’s not good.

They were [family working in coal mining] until the President shut down the coalmines. Unless you work in a restaurant or Wal-Mart or something in that area, there’s no longer any jobs left. And it’s hard to even get in on them. It [coal] better come back. Pretty much Eastern Kentucky is gonna just fade away [if it doesn’t come back]. 

Best times [around here] would probably have to be when [the whole town] shows up for like 4th of July, and you see everybody that’s here.

They need to shut their mouth [people who make fun of Appalachian culture]. I make fun of us, but still! Mostly because they've seen these movies with incest and all that, and they think we do that. We don’t. They think we’re from ‘Wrong Turn’. 

This place ain’t special. Probably to the old people who saw it in its prime, but to the new generation, this place ain’t nothing.

We’ve actually tried [to change it]. There’s a skate park now. We’ve put in that. Maybe if they would turn that old high school, have that ball gym open for people, instead of doing the rec center bull crap [where] you gotta pay five dollars to play ball, then I’d see a lot more people doing all kinds of stuff. 

There is hope, but I don’t see it turning that way.”