I had two first cousins from Dad’s side of the family come visit from North Carolina recently, and it was great. I hadn’t seen them in 31 years. It’s not that they hadn’t visited DeKalb County in that time; it’s just that I was always living away.
Most of our cousins grew up right here on Sand Mountain and were as country as we were. But we had some that were from the giant metropolis of Fort Payne and some from larger towns like Chattanooga. These cousins were always a little… different. They were more sophisticated, worldly, and knowledgeable, especially about grown-up things. They had been around. And I’m sure they thought we were the most backward hillbillies on the planet. And yeah, that was pretty accurate.
“What do you even do for fun around here?” I must have heard that a hundred times growing up from visiting relatives. It’s a trick question. Don’t answer it. Sure, you could explain to them about how many great fishing spots there are, or about frog gigging, camping out, playing hide-n-seek, trot lining, smoking rabbit tobacco in a corncob pipe, and a lot of other great activities, but they would only laugh.
Of course, I must admit, when these cousins talked about all the exciting things to do in their neck of the woods, like professional sports venues, amusement parks, galleries, etc., I was a tad jealous. I wanted those things, too. I used to wonder why anyone would intentionally live in a small rural town, and I couldn’t wait to get away.
Having now been around the block a few times myself, I can finally understand the appeal of life on the mountain. Now, I would gladly trade the sound of traffic for the sound of crickets any day. I will take the peace and quiet over the stress every time. I couldn’t wait to trade the crowded neighborhoods of Milwaukee for the open spaces.
I still love getting visits from out-of-town relatives, but it’s different now. I’ve lived in bigger cities and have done everything they have. I don’t have to wonder what it’s like anymore. I’ve seen it and done it. It’s no longer a matter of being stuck here like it was when I was a kid. Now, it’s a conscious choice to live here.
Hence, when they laugh and call me a country bumpkin, I just smile and nod. When they ask what there is to do around here, I just sit back in my rocker on the front porch, watch the clouds drift slowly across the blue sky, feel the breeze caressing my face, take a deep breath of clean air, and say, “We’re doing it.”
Neal Wooten is a columnist in the Mountain Valley News and North Jackson Press newspapers. He can be reached at [email protected].
