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Photo Courtesy of Corinne Milwee Farley |
I’m a hillbilly. I spent the first days of my life in a coal mining camp in Harlan County, Kentucky. After my folks moved into a small rental house in Loyall, Kentucky, on Daddy’s days off from his Greyhound driving schedule, we either visited Granny at Chevrolet Mining Camp or my dad’s mother on top of Pine Mountain.
Life was simple, but hard, back then. A water pump outside provided watering needs. Down a little path stood an outhouse for “those” needs. Chickens roamed freely to provide meat and eggs. Everyone worked the garden so there would be vegetables year round. It was hard work, but nobody complained about it; instead, we all did what was necessary to survive.
When I grew up and went away to college, I learned how the outside world judged me by where I came from. I worked hard to rid myself of the telltale accent of my people. From time to time, people laughed at the words I used from my “language.” It was okay to have a Spanish, British, Italian, German, French, or even Indian accent, but many people considered a hillbilly accent meant we were all ignorant.
Far from it. Hillbilly is a language, just like all the rest. We have our brilliant minds, our creative geniuses, and our not-so-brilliant exceptions.
So, in this blog, I plan to translate some of my language so you will have a better understanding of my culture and can communicate more effectively with my fabulous culture of the Appalachian (Apple-AT-chun) people.
HOLLER
Deep in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky where I was reared, fog snuggled the mountains at night and late into the morning before the heat of the sun burned it off or changed it into dew to nurture the flora and fauna of the dense forests.
The last place to lose the fog each day is the first word I’m going to define for you. Holler.
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Photo Courtesy of Corinne Milwee Farley |
A holler (or hollow) is the low place between mountains. If you look at the photos above, everywhere there is a wrinkle in the mountains you will generally find a holler. Generally, the people settled into hollers because they were more accessible. Generally, a holler contains a gentler incline and is easier to clear enough land to build a house, plant a garden, and have some chickens. Also, an underwater spring or creek usually flows in the deepest grooves of the holler.
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Photo Courtesy of Corinne Milwee Farley |
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My mother always told me that the further up the holler people live, the thicker their accent. She also told me that they called them hollers because when mothers needed their family to come home, they’d go out on the porch and “holler” up the holler. The sound echoed between the mountains on either side and the sound carried further. Not sure if that’s true, but it makes for a good story. Living in Appalachia is all about the story.
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Photo Courtesy of Tammy Hyatt |
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Photo Courtesy of Tammy Hyatt |
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Photo Courtesy of Tammy Hyatt |
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Photo Courtesy of Corinne Milwee Farley |
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Photo Courtesy of Corinne Milwee Farley
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