The New River, one of the five oldest rivers in the world, is an hour away. If I count the hike to get to the overlook at Hawks Nest State Park, make it two hours.
There are rivers like this everywhere. This one is in Raleigh County, an hour and a half from my front door.
ET, phone home. Green Bank, West Virginia is home to the largest fully-steerable radio telescope in the world in the heart of Pocahontas County. If you wanted to pick one place to go in West Virginia, Pocahontas County would be a good choice.
No, it’s not New York. Just another small town Main Street in St. Albans. When I was a kid, we watched Frankie Avalon and Anette Funicello in Beach Blanket Bingo. For a while it was a Jehova’s Witness Kingdom Hall. Now the Alban is a theater again featuring plays and concerts.
So ends the tour of picturesque West Virginia. Tomorrow we go to Logan.
Take Me Home, Country Roads, the signature hit of John Denver, was adopted by my home state, in part because of the first line of the song, Almost Heaven, West Virginia, but also because the spirit of the song is about coming home to the country roads we all love so much. West Virginians are scattered all over the world, but the mountains seem to have an irresistible pull that tells us we should have been home yesterday.
But let’s talk about the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah River. In truth, both of those geographic features, even though they cross the border into West Virginia, are better known as Virginia landmarks. But let’s call it the songwriter’s artistic license.
It’s easy to understand how the Blue Ridge Mountains could inspire Denver and his co-songwriters. It’s a relatively short drive from my home to the Blue Ridge Parkway, one of the most beautifully scenic highways in America.
Overlooks are everywhere. It’s an incredible sight to see the mountains fade into the horizon miles and miles away. Picturesque trees are works of art waiting to be painted. Rustic barns, quaint cottages, and chairs on the hillside make you want to slow down and take it all in. And at the end of every day is the perfect sunset.
Here’s another truth.
Though the Blue Ridge Mountains are part of Virginia, there are places just as spectacular all over West Virginia. So much so, that we tend to take them for granted. The sunset picture above could have been taken in my back yard. A mountain top view is minutes away. Babbling brooks and rivers winding through the forest are within an easy bike ride. It’s the stuff that inspires artists and poets.
That pretty well sums up what kind of traveler I am.
Don’t misunderstand. I wish I had a passport. I would have liked to have traveled around the world. See the sights. Meet people. Learn about their culture. But that’s not my reality, for reasons that aren’t important for this discussion.
I’m just not a world traveler. But I have a lot of friends who are.
I have a friend in Singapore who corresponds with me on a regular basis. Another musician friend in the UK who travels the countryside with his wife and dog and guitar. A friend down under shares her amazing photos of the places she visits. Amos, a writer, goes to Lisbon for inspiration. Want real life in Sydney or New Zealand? Check this out. And my good friend Lily treks all over Canada with her husband. Oh, Canada. I could go on.
People will ask if I have any travel plans for the summer. My running joke is that we plan to take a trip to Marmet, a wide spot on the road about 20 miles away. While Marmet is a fine community, it’s not on anybody’s list of places to vacation.
In my travel fantasies, there are places I would have liked to live. Not just visit for a day, or even a week, but actually live there. Get a job. An apartment. Shop for food. Cook meals. Get to know people. Get to know their culture. Live in the country. Again, I know people who do this. But for me, it’s just a fantasy.
So my travels are typically much closer to home. And I’ve discovered there is much to learn about the different people and cultures within my own country, and within my own state. Not to mention some truly spectacular places.
This week, we’ll travel to some of these places. It won’t be glamorous, but it will be fulfilling. More tomorrow.
The other day I wrote about finding special moments throughout the day in piece called ninety nine miles. At the end, while travelling back home, the narrator finally finds some relief as Scott sings, Salina, I’m as nowhere as I can be.
Did you Google? Did you figure it out?
Who is Scott? Answer, Scott Avett, of course.
The song, Salina. It starts out as just another nice Avett Brothers song about being away from home. Then near the end, the music takes on a symphonic quality.
Click the link and stay with it. No video on this clip, just great music for a rainy Saturday night.
Not quite dawn.
Early morning drive
to get to where i’m going.
Which is where?
Doesn’t matter.
Just another destination
The gray skies start to lighten.
No dramatic sunrise.
Just light, and a little more.
Ninety nine miles down the road.
Around the bend.
Down the valley.
Up the hill.
Then the golden streaks
shining on the brilliant greens.
Bright highlights and deep shadows
and fog nestled
in the forest.
For a moment
maybe two.
.
A meeting.
Just business.
Keep the project moving.
What city?
Doesn’t matter.
Just another job.
They go their way.
I go mine.
Looking for lunch.
Walking the streets.
A pawn shop.
Liquor store.
Check cashing.
The next block is different.
A coffee shop.
A Mediterranean restaurant.
Great food and friendly server.
It doesn’t get any better.
For a moment.
Maybe two.
.
Day is dimming.
The tires are humming.
Got to get back home.
Where?
Doesn’t matter.
Home is home.
The radio is droning.
Two hours of talk
numbs the mind.
Even the music
that always brings relief
has been playing
much too long.
Then Scott sings. Salina, I’m as nowhere as I can be.
The most beautiful music.
And all is well.
For a moment.
Maybe two.
Along the road, on the shoulder.
Her strides are even
Her pace is steady
She is young, in her prime,
and I envy her energy.
Along the road, on the shoulder.
Her hair bundled together
bounces from one side to the other.
Of course she catches my eye.
She’s a confident athlete.
Along the road, on the shoulder.
She dodges a pothole with a stutter step
and then she’s running again.
She’s so relaxed
And makes it all seem effortless.
Along the road, on the shoulder.
She’s a runner, not a jogger.
She’ll get taunts and catcalls
But she’ll keep running.
Because it’s all about the running.
My prime is a memory as I run
along the road, on the shoulder.
yet there are those days when my
strides are long
and my pace is quick
and time is a myth
and I run as she runs
gliding over the miles
as if
I could run
forever.
He came to me, this poor man.
Poor in the sense of having nothing.
He was dirty.
His pants were ripped.
He was ashamed of his appearance.
He was ashamed of his life.
I wish I could say he was rich in other ways.
But no. Probably not.
Another stopped me on the elevator.
He studied my face, as if he knew me.
His mind had betrayed him.
It was why he was there, in this hospital.
Reality had left him long ago.
Then he knew. I was Stevie Ray Vaughn.
You might think that such folly is liberating.
But no. Probably not.
A woman on the sidewalk
Said she needed some money.
Fifteen dollars for the bus pass.
Not just the spare change pitch.
She seemed sincere, if a little desperate.
She got her fifteen dollars.
And fifteen minutes in prayer.
It could just be another con job.
But no. Probably not.
Do my pennies make me rich?
Do your dollars make you poor?
Who is wise and who is foolish?
Do we know the way of truth?
Are you righteous in your mind?
Does evil stain your thoughts?
One could say that all is vanity.
But no. Probably not.
copyright 2017, joseph e bird
Note: These are true stories, and it pleases me to tell of the kindness that others have shown to those in need.
talk to me now like you are my friend
talk to me now let the stories begin
we walked through the storm till we saw the bright sunshine
kicked sand in our shoes and we danced on the coastline
we talked of our dreams and slept under white pines
took a train to the city and sang songs to the skyline
but the cold north wind, it came in like a thief
blew away all my trust and broke my belief
and i don’t care
i don’t care
i can’t care
anymore
.
talk to me now like you were my friend
talk to me now let the lying begin
it’s not what it seems, what you see it ain’t true
you said give it a chance, but I knew we were through
the things that you did i just couldn’t construe
then you tossed me aside like a ragged old shoe
and the cold north wind, it came in like a thief
and chilled my old bones and left me in grief
and i don’t care
i don’t care
i can’t care
anymore
.
talk to me now i said to my friend
talk to me now i can trust you again
i’m older and wiser and now i am strong
we try to do right but we know we’ll be wrong
whatever we have it won’t be for long
and love only lasts when it’s sung in a song
and the cold north wind, it came in like a thief
but i bundled up warm, cause you’re my relief
and i don’t care
i don’t care
i can’t care
but i do
copyright 2017, joseph e bird
Note: Again, not autobiographical. Just another somebody done somebody wrong song.
