Dear West Virginia,
I suppose this has been a long time coming. Looking back, it must have seemed abrupt. Twenty-two years we spent together, then I up and left with no real explanation. I probably owed you more than that. So I’ll try my best to explain it to you now.
We were perfect together at first, weren’t we? As a boy, I couldn’t have asked for a better playmate. Your hills and trees, your railroad tracks, rivers, and run-down factories. You could have killed me a dozen times, at least. I seemed to be asking for it. I was rough on you, but you gave as good as you got. My blood in your soil, your splinters and gravel under my skin. This is how we did it, becoming more and more of one another every single day.
I drew your initials in my notebooks in the sharp angles of the university logo. They weren’t just letters. They were you. I wore blue and gold, but those weren’t your only colors. You were green and white, too. Just like my Paden City Wildcats. You were orange and yellow and red, your hillsides alight with fire every autumn. You were the purple of the Ohio River, the sun’s last rays drawn deep. You were black, a night sky as endless as my imagination.
You were everything to me. My mom and my dad. My brother and my grandparents. My home and my school. All of my very first firsts. It was perfect while it lasted.
I wish I could tell you when things changed. That I could point to one moment. Maybe the first time I saw the ocean, standing there with my pant legs hiked to my knees, staring at the end of the earth. Maybe it was something I saw on television: a bionic man, a talking car, a chimpanzee sidekick, a girl in her underwear. Maybe it was the books, one of the stories that seemed so wild and strange and far beyond anything I could ever imagine happening while surrounded by the steadfastness of you.
That might be part of it. I knew, as sure as I knew anything, that you were never going to change. You’d spent lifetimes building mountains from flat, solid ground. You’d grown forests, had them taken from you, and grown them again. You were strong, stalwart, and set in the ways that worked for you. But I slowly began to realize they wouldn’t work for me.
I can’t actually think of a time beyond boyhood when I thought I was going to stay. It’s strange. Ungrateful, I suppose. You were the only thing I knew and somehow you weren’t enough. But my interests and ambitions grew beyond any realistic expectations. Far beyond the reach of your panhandles. And I suppose that changes a relationship forever.
The question is, did I begin to stand out because I knew I was going to leave? Or did I know I was going to leave because I was beginning to stand out? I fished your streams, but with little frequency and even less success. Friends and family stalked your forests for hours in the hope of bringing home deer, quail, squirrel. The interest never took with me. But there were bigger things. Ideals I didn’t recognize, some old-fashioned, some simply old. Disagreement with common-held beliefs. Those I saw as wrong-headed, and those I knew were just plain wrong. All of that combined to leave me somewhere in between. There, but not.
I know your state bird, your state flower, your state tree, your state animal. I know your state fish, for crying out loud. Every fiber of my being was forged, formed, and intricately woven by the experience of growing up with you: my basic values, my ingrained suspicions, my belief that good things can always happen to you, but don’t hold your breath.
You see, I’ve never had a problem being from West Virginia. I just had some difficulty being in West Virginia.
Still, now, the places we knew together are like songs to me. Just the names bring a flood of memories: Dolly Sods, Canaan Valley, Oil Ridge, Buck Run, Bickles Knob. And then the places that had no real title: the rope swing on the north end of town, the outfield of the far baseball diamond, the attic of my best friend’s house, and, of course, the few square feet of my bedroom. I papered those walls with dreams. That town. I sought your best places and poured endless meaning into some of your most ordinary corners. I did all of this, day after day, for over eight thousand days. And then, one day, it was time to go.
You probably didn’t see it, because my back was to you as I drove, but I cried when I left. And not just because I was in Kentucky. I cried because I missed you already. I cried because I’d never been away from you for longer than two weeks. I cried because I was afraid. Because if I wasn’t a West Virginian, then what was I?
I had a tape recorder on the front seat to capture thoughts as I drove, alone, toward a new life. This is what I said as I left you behind: “If California is half as good to me as West Virginia has been, I’m going to be in pretty good shape.”
And I was right. But a dozen years here has taught me just how wrong I was about something else. I never stopped being a West Virginian. There are some things that can’t be undone. Not by all the gods in all the heavens. Geography be damned.
The other day someone wrote to me and said, “I’ll be coming to your state next week.” And I thought, “I wonder why he’s going to West Virginia?” He wasn’t. He was coming to California. But I still, in my marrow, think of you as “my state.” I only hope you still think of me as your son.
I have grandparents and great-grandparents buried in your ground. I have family living in the curves of your hills. I have pieces of me scattered all across your land. And I have the best parts of you locked here in my heart.
Maybe that’s not enough. Maybe all these words can never explain away what I did. Maybe abandonment is too great a sin to be absolved. Maybe. But I like to think not.
I like to think all your countless years have given you unbridled understanding, the likes of which I’ll never understand. That on a cold autumn night when the air smells like burning leaves and small town football, you miss me a little, too. I like to think that when I come home, you’re as happy to see me as I am you. And that the few days we get to spend together each year are like a gift, a time machine. Proof that old friends never fade.
That’s what I like to think.
Forever yours,
Jason
Jason Headley does some things for art and some things for money.
Damn right! I’ve never been to West Virginia. But now I want to go.
You’ve wonderfully stated everything that I’ve ever thought about my upbringing in our wonderful state. I’ll forever catch the short end of bad and outdated jokes for being a West Virginian, but I’ll also forever live with the integrity and work ethic that she gave me.
I believe that every West Virginian has a larger, more distinct since of state-pride than many if not all of the people that I have met in my travels since I left WV. They can have their jokes, they will never sway my respect for the beauty and safety of our rolling hills.
I grew up a short 5 miles North of yourself, and understand every piece of this to it’s glorious, dirty, coal-dusted core. I have never (and will never) wish that I had come from some other place.
I just returned to NC after visiting family in Charleston, WV and I literally wrote on Facebook almost exactly what you have just said. Where else can you go that on game day every major chain store and small mom and pop shop will have the game blasting over the PA and EVERYONE in the place is wearing WV colors? My husband is always amazed at the amount of pride and love for their state that West Virginians have (especially in spite of the fact that economic struggle and poverty seems to afflict the greater majority) I’m proud to be from West Virginia and it will always be my true home!
Is it possible to love home without being a sports fan?
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A good friend sent me this link after we had a long discussion about where life had taken us, and now that we live in other states, what it feels like to return home. It was a conversation had the night before a friend’s wedding, in which some people were seeing familiar faces for the first time in years. West Virginia was home to everyone, although we weren’t all still living in that 304 area code. To hear someone talk about sharing that proud , sentimental feeling when you see that “Wild and Wonderful” sign on the interstate, the breathtaking fall colors, or the “WV” symbol on an out-of-state car, was amazing. We are a special people with an unspoken bond. That bond can’t be broken by time nor distance, and because of that, I’m proud to say I’m from West by God Virginia.
I could have written this letter almost word for word. I live in CA but heart remains in WV and still proudly think of myself as a hillbilly. The best years of my life were lived there and though I have lived in other places and visited countless others WV will always be home. I have lived in CA for nearly 30 years and it has been 40 since we lived in the Mountain State yet folks detect an accent when I speak, a hodge podge I suppose of places I have lived but the heart of which is my roots. I wanted away from the snow, now I miss the still splendor and colored leaves. I hope when my days are done I am intered back with my folks back in the Mountain State I will ever love and which will always be a part of my core. Take me home country roads…
I could say the same about New Jersey, but then, I remember Rohm and Haas and the smell from Bristol Pa. I’ll pass…
Damnit! I was gonna say I’m gonna stick my dick in West Virginia over Thanksgiving!
Your post brought tears to my eyes. I left WV for school, then came back. I knew it was the right thing to do, and I’ve never regretted it. There’s something about living here that gives you such a feeling of completeness. When you’re born and raised here, you establish a link with West Virginia that can’t ever be broken, and that was evident in your post. We know who we are, we’re proud of who we are, and we don’t need to apologize for who we are. We’re WEST VIRGINIANS!!
Been away from WV for six years now, starting to miss my home state.
Doug, come on back for a visit. Maybe you’ll reestablish some memories of the “old home place”.
“Bickles Knob” Is that a whiskey or a blow job from a bum? No mean spirit intended. I just want to know.
It is the second highest mountain in WV. Has an old firewatch tower on top. 360 degree view. Sorry if you where looking for some crazy other meaning.
It is not the second highest mountain in WV. It isn’t even in the top 50.
Yeah, but when you live in Randolph County, it is the highest mountain in the world. or is it Rich Mountain, or Cheat ?
Eloquently stated, Jason.
I feel the same way about Ohio.
I moved away to Minnesota and Colorado….but my roots drew me back.
I’ve always been conflicted about it….but I am an Ohio boy through and though.
Nice update.
Thanks
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bickle_Knob
I don’t recommend camping there in the middle of February. Especially in a tent.
Live and learn, I suppose.
Oh, and the line about Stewart Memorial Drive being “easily traversed” is a LIE. Even in the best weather, that road can mostly be described as “moody”.
There were many times we had to leave the truck at the bottom of the hill and wander up on foot. Fun times. Really.
I’m kind of an adopted West Virginian, having grown up on the West Coast, and moving back there after a long stint at a remote radar site in Alaska with my best friend from St. Marys. My wife’s family lives in western-most New York (Chautauqua…but not rich Chautauquans, lol!).
I try to get back to St. Marys at least once a year, and I swear, when I turn off of I-70 and hit WV Rt. 2, tears fill my eyes because I somehow feel as if I have come home again.
It’s hard to explain, but it is almost exactly like what it is like out here in Nome, Alaska. It’s tough to live there sometimes due to the economy and the unemployment, but the PEOPLE make it the special place it is! There is a darn good reason that the motto is “Almost Heaven.”
I’m from St. Marys! Love my small town!
My last high school girlfriend was from Newport, OH and my dad worked at Cyanamid on Willow Island for like 20 yrs. My brother currently shovels coal at the power plant on Willow Island.
[ Unrelated to WV ] You said “my brother”. My brother has held a strange variety of jobs: website designer, airport shuttle bus driver, bank vice president, shelf stocker at Wal-Mart. I may have the order wrong.
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I’m grew up in St. Marys and moved to NY 24 years ago. I still think of WV as my home and always will. I still love my Mountaineers!!! 🙂 Thank you Jason for putting into words exactly how I feel too!
P.S. Glad to know you are from Paden City, Jason, and not one of those uppity snobs from Sistersville! 🙂
clintcurtis. I can tell you haven’t been back to sistersville in a long time. The uppity snobs are long gone…most have died off. That WAS the Sistersville of the 40’s and 50’s…..and those times are gone. We are now a fun loving bunch of people who love to party, have fun, enjoy life and we are all friends with everyone. No more class system! Come visit next time you come to St. Marys.
My bestest of best friends used to work at Buck Chevrolet in Sistersville. I’ve heard all the great stories of how the Sistersvillians were the creme de la creme back in the day. Seriously, I love Sistersvile so much. I used to eat at the Well’s Inn WAY back in the day.
But, the thing I admire most about Sistrsville is that when I drive through town in the Summer, all of the tennis courts at the park have players on them. What a great city! (Okay, I love to play tennis…that doesn’t make me sexually suspect, does it? lol)
No it does not make you suspect. I’ve seen Maria Sharapova.
It appears I’ve found a new author to read – Great Update Jason!
Just frickin’ WOW!
I am at my desk, trying hard not to cry. That was just beautiful.
Hard to read a story like that and jackoff at the same time. Hard, but not impossible. That’s all I’ve got to say.
I’m with Jason –and I’m a girl.
Eloquent! Beautifully stated. Jason, you could be the next great Southern Writer. Another Pat Conroy!
Well done!
W.O.W. That was awesome, Jason. Made me homesick for the things that will never “be” anymore. More often than not, I wonder how life became so complicated. Maybe because I’m quickly approaching the big 5-0. But your update brought me to a screetching halt for those few minutes.
Doesn’t anyone write about explosive bowel movements anymore ? Whoa , excuse me for a moment…..
If it helps you get through the day I’m about to rain some fury onto the small room.
And I’m about to manufacture some mortar that could help an Ethiopian build a small hut. The twelve pieces of chicken I ate last night could have been the culprit in producing that fine connective substance.
I was going to msn one of my coworkers to tell him I just dropped a foot long masterpiece.. I had to tell someone. Seems this is the place
My secretary just stunk up the whole goddamn hallway. I’m thinking about flushing a sympathy card down her toilet for the guys down at the sewer treatment plant.
That literally brought tears to my eyes. I feel the same way about my beloved South Carolina. Thanks for sharing that with us!
OMG! This is incredible!
That was beautifully written.
(Full disclosure – I’ve been to WV twice and didn’t like it either time. If you talk like do, and you don’t like Bud/Coors/Miller and you’re browsing in a WV beer store… well I’m not from around these parts am I? There, I said it).
Jeff, you know some really interesting people! I am really enjoying these guest posts.
Well done!
What a beautiful piece of writing. I’m going to read it to my English students and then I’m sharing it with my dad, a native of Wellsburg, WV. Thanks for writing it, Jason, and thanks, Jeff, for posting it.
Nice piece of writing, Mr. Headley. I rarely come here to be uplifted, but you have accomplished that today.
On a side note, but still dripping with nostalgia, here’s old color pics of the Ringling Bros. Circus. I know how much Jeff likes these old-timey photographs.
http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2011/09/1940s-color-photos-of-the-ringling-brothers-barnum-and-bailey-circus/245365/
Somebody nudge me when Jeff gets back. It’s turning into a big gay hug fest around here.
So, Henderson, do ya like gladiator movies?
Ever seen a grown man naked?
i nudged my penis.
I just can’t get behind the Mountain State anymore. Yeah, it’s got some good scenery and my childhood there was pretty awesome, but once I tasted the offerings of the other states I have been in, I can’t see myself ever moving back there.
Once, while on the run from being killed by my ex wife’s family, I tried to go back and get a job. The three jobs that were offered to me, although I was pleased to get the offers, could not have paid my bills. I would have had to work all three jobs to get by.
WV is a fine place, 40 years ago. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer, and that is what has stripped my home state of the appeal to me. Unless your name happens to be Rockefeller or Manchin.
I miss the AWG Bob Evans stories and what not. My ex called shenanigans so I said screw you ex!
Very nice piece.
My favorite WV memory is a topless car wash in Charleston, I think it was called Bertha’s.
That was just my mom’s front yard.
No, they had a building.
That is exceptional writing! Well done!
Jason,
What a wonderful letter. West Virginia has a unique way of getting into your soul and making its mark. Never once did I believe I’d stay here after college, but now, 20 years later, I can’t think of leaving.
Will you be here next week to help celebrate Lonnie’s award at Homecoming?
I was raised on the Florida coast since I was 3, although born in central WV. I moved back to WV when I was 21… and I dont know that I will ever find a place I love nearly as much as WV. Beautiful article. and o so true.
Do you know why the BYU football team doesn’t do better?
Because every time they get 10 yards, they have to give 1 back!
While I’ve only been through WV a few times (though I may have stopped to pee), I do have to say the picture that accompanies this story does draw you in – and looks like Almost Heaven…. with the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River….. Wait, I’ve heard this story before somewhere.
Uhmm…..thats western VA not WV
I’ve been away for 16 years now. I wasn’t born and raised there, but I still consider it my “home away from home”. Given the chance today, I’d pack up everything and move back. I’m still trying to sell my family on the idea. No deal so far.
So by now everyone has received Jeff’s email about THE INTERVIEW with one of his favorite National Lampoon cartoonists.
I have posted the story on MetaFilter to broaden the audience because even though I was not a fan before, I am now!
It was splendid.
http://www.metafilter.com/108091/National-Lampoon-52-on-the-dollar
Jason, that was beautiful.
I have no interest in moving back to Brooklyn, but I still think of myself as a New Yorker even after a decades-long absence.
And Jeff, thanks for the interview link. I’ve been a fan of Flenniken’s since 1973-ish, and it was nice to finally “meet” her.
.
Beautifully written, nuff said.
thanks for making think twice about moving back home. it’s hard to leave WV behind. you end up feeling like a traitor half the time and lucky the rest.
You captured, beautifully, the essense of our state. What you felt is exactly how most of us feel growing up. But WV will always be home, no matter where we are now.
West Virginia is a beautiful place. We DO wear Allen Edmonds shoes, have university degrees, drive late model luxury sedans, and yes, we have Lincoln and Mercedes dealers here just like any other place.
I get so sick of hearing national media morons that blather their stupidity about West Virginia and have never been here.
I’ve been a broadcaster here for nearly 47 years, my father and grandfather were both coal mine superintendents with new River Coal Company and my life here has been idillic and amazing. I’ve lived in Phoenix, Washington, DC, Pennsylvania, and Minnesota as well as South Dakota…
I’m a West Virginian. What an interesting commentary!
Very well written. WV means a lot to many people, but the word Home covers ever aspect. My hollow is the best.
WOW Jason!!!!! What happen to that little boy I use to babysit for…….He turned out to be a wonderful, and a terrific writer…..Such a wonderful job, Jason……Thank You, Judy
For the past few weeks, my husband has been asking why he’s so homesick this year. I keep telling him, “Because it’s Fall. And you do every year.” We are southern West Virginians (Putnam & Boone Counties) now living in South Carolina.
I’ve read your piece three times since I found it on Facebook this morning. You have echoed my heart and mind. I used to feel suffocated and embraced by those steep coalfields mountains. It’s a beauty and a way of life that truly is in our DNA.
Thank you.
Great stuff. Nice. Groovy even.
I feel the same way about Maryland.
But of course then again, fuck Maryland.
Thanks for a wonderful letter! I grew up in New Martinsville, WV. There is something about WV that grabs your heart. I have lived in Europe and TX. I fly my WV flag proud wherever I am! When I go back “home”….I feel like I am seeing a LONG LOST FRIEND. God Bless WV! (1994 graduate of WVU also)
Jason…
Awesome….Need I say more!!!
XOXO From Buffalo, NY…WV Girl at Heart!!!
From PC too-…. i am so very proud of you . You opened your mouth and spoke my heart. I wanted to fly away from WV in1978 but here I am in 2011 and am damn proud of our state! We love you here still!
Jason, i have to agree totally. All through the years I served in the Army, I always took great pride in saying i’m from West Virginia, where manners still count, and upbringing defines the person. All over this earth, I have stood and compared it to home, and nothing will ever compare to WV, or Paden City. I just wish I could have done more for the future of home. Well written old friend, take care.
You’ve wonderfully stated everything that I’ve ever thought about my upbringing in our wonderful state. I’ll forever catch the short end of bad and outdated jokes for being a West Virginian, but I’ll also forever live with the integrity and work ethic that she gave me.
I believe that every West Virginian has a larger, more distinct since of state-pride than many if not all of the people that I have met in my travels since I left WV. They can have their jokes, they will never sway my respect for the beauty and safety of our rolling hills.
I grew up a short 5 miles North of yourself, and understand every piece of this to it’s glorious, dirty, coal-dusted core. I have never (and will never) wish that I had come from some other place.
Hi Jason,
Reading this make me miss home and be thankful that I am a short drive from home. I swelled with pride and even welled up a little. Good to see a fellow PC alumnus is doing well. Currently work as an electronics engineer for the Naval Air Systems Command.