It's hard to be a hillbilly in America today. It's even harder to be a hillbilly visiting from across the border.
With that I'll wish both locals and visitors a happy Hillbilly Days.
It's an interesting time to be a hillbilly. Since the election of '16, we've been (choose one) credited/blamed for the ascension of the Liar in Chief.
Actually a lot of people staying home in Michigan and Pennsylvania should get the credit. But people staying home have neither a cool nickname nor a colorful stereotypical image to conjure, so we win.
It's a plain fact that hillbillies went hard for the Donald, but that had a lot more to do with 8 years of rightwing propaganda (War on Coal) and 1 year of braindead campaign strategy (Clinton DNC) than about anything Mr. Cheetoh had to offer.
Tall tales are our bread and butter. We love whoppers, so this time the biggest liar got the nod.
The interest in all things hillbilly since November has gotten a little confused, though. Folks from everywhere but Appalachia have annointed a guy born in Middletown, Ohio as the expert in all things Hillbilly. His book, Hillbilly Elegy, is chock-full of tall tales about an area he visited for a few days each summer. He filled it with all the right stereotypes, so who could really tell?
That's kind of reminiscent of the time a guy from North Carolina wrote the definitive play about our state, called the Kentucky Cycle. That was supposed to be the last word, too.
But I digress.
While you are in Pikeville, a town lovingly referred to as "the other Appalachia" by folks in other counties, you're going to hobnob with the friendliest and hardest working people on the planet. Except for those who aren't.
Pikeville long ago shed the hillbilly image, but was able to grab the stereotype and run with it. In so doing it created one of the biggest parties in a state that's pretty famous for a couple of big parties.
If you have a spare minute between the funnel cakes and Chinese made Appalachian crafts, you should get down to the southern part of the county and get a little more genuine hillbilly experience.
In Elkhorn we fight like cats and dogs, but happily feed one another when too sick to cook. It's a place you can't buy a beer, but can taste some of the finest Appalachian consumable folk art (moonshine) anywhere. It's all about the water.
It's at the northern point of a 120 mile long ridge that touches 3 states; states that more closely define what hillbillies really are than Ohio. Elkhorn City is still hillbilly and happy with it.
This week I've experienced again why I love my home. It is a place where people who aren't your kin will sit with you in a hospital while your mom has surgery. A place where your neighbors line up to feed you when you're down. A place where literally every household in town will be praying, in various forms, for your healing.
There's no place like it. And there's nothing as wonderful as a hillbilly. I hope you feel it while you're here.