The Stalward Left of the Right-Hand Side

I just meandered across this blog, West Virginia Blue, which features political bulletins from the Eastern Panhandle. Of course I found it via Hillbilly Savants, which I love more and more. I wish they would publish a book.

Anyway, if you have a moment watch the Charles video. It warmed the cockles of my heart absolutely. I'm so ready for November 4th it's ridiculous. I've already been repeating my stock election-year threat: If they win (they being the obvious They, the Bad Guys, The GOP), I'm leaving the country.

Only this year, I really will. Vive la France.

How the E.P.A. Doesn't Even Deserve Its Title Anymore

VS.!


Do you have a preference?

Sliding into home base as it is, the Bush administration has decided to give a few final plumps to its various friends in energy-resource (and anti-environmental) industry. In this case they're pushing through the de-regulation of stream and water-resource protection, the one that keeps those streams and wetlands that still exist in the Appalachian region from turning into slurries. While the E.P.A. will technically have to sign off on this "revision", they already turned a blind eye to an earlier tweak that removed regulations for dumping waste directly into the flow of streams and rivers. The repeal of the buffer-zone will allow companies to contaminate not only the water sources themselves but the space all around the water source, enabling them to dig access roads and tracks right down to the water, completely destroying not only the mountains but the ecosystems in the valleys as well.

Now, I'm not terribly skilled at deconstructing legal documents, even super-reductive ones such as this fact sheet detailing information on the Stream Buffer Zone rule, but it seems to me that the language at the bottom of page two is a bit faint-hearted (so basically people shouldn't disturb the wildlife, but dumping mining waste is different so that's...okay? I'm confused) and does not actually speak to the heading of the section WHATSOEVER (header being: How is OSM proposing to change SBZ). And without any concrete answer, what's the point of the fact sheet? And in re: the very last statement: I don't want to see anything about "explanations of why that alternative is not possible". That's the loophole, and it's not even a subtle one. They must really think we're all idiots, and maybe we are. Industry, and the corrupt governmental offices it panders to, will just keep getting away with this until we say something.

Coal River Mountain Watch has the talking points. They're better at this than I.

I Love Mountains has the petition. I strongly encourage everyone to visit and sign.

And finally, Hillbilly Savants are everything I want to be. Only they don't have the shoes like I do. And that's your yearly free-pass on redneck and hillbilly jokes right there, except that I still have all my teeth.

Palin Rally in St. Clairsville, OH

I would ask all of my friends in the OhVa to please go out and prove that Northern Ohio, the northern Panhandle of WV, and Western Pennsylvania are not all small-minded, frightened bigots. I don't care who you vote for, but vote and know that when you're voting you're not voting because of some rumor or voting against anyone on a personal level. Vote because you have even just ONE cause that you've researched, one thing you feel is important. That's what your education is supposed to do for you.

The Daily Kos had a really good read on this. Plus, the author is from outside St. C.

We don't all belong to the NRA.

This story from the Daily Kos (a few dailies ago, though) really cheered me up. It's the kind of scenario I think of when I think of the cantankerous, independent spirit of West Virginians. Granted, there is a deep-currented and complicated discourse about the mine owners and operators, about the union and loyalties, about individualism, voting, and citizens of the state running through this story, but nevertheless as a sketch of spirit and independence it warms my heart. Bear in mind, West Virginia mines are territory where less than a hundred years ago miners could be shot for this kind of dissent.*




*Please Note: Wikipedia's article calls the WV Mine Wars of 1920-21 the "Redneck Wars". I have never heard this struggle so labeled and I (of course) disagree vehemently with the term. For one thing, it's really hard to get a red-neck when you work underground your whole life (if anyone is confused by the origin of the term "Redneck", let me know. I can set you straight).

Old Crow Medicine Show

So maybe the only time I can remember ever watching CMT (that's "Country Music Television" to the uninitiated) is when I had insomnia and cried all night because of a boy. I was young and foolish and a sophomore in college, and there is no worse time to have Diamond Rio sing "One More Day" three times per hour from 2 am until 5 am.

Regardless, I love OCMS very, very much. I saw their show at the Somerville Theatre last year with the one and only Matt Plummer of Minnesota by way of NYC and it was absolutely phenomenal. A very enjoyable show. The band was even surprised: "Last time we were up here," said lead singer Morgan Jahnig, "ya'll were not nearly this excited!" A tight performance with some masterful playing of mandolin and banjo, it would have been impossible not to have a good time.

Which is why I bothered to go ahead and sign up for CMT's free membership, although Lord knows I'll never use it again, and vote for them for Best Group Video. Apparently that's not the only category they're in, so I have to go back and vote for the other one now, but it's absolutely worth it. Vote, Bostonians, and I promise to take you the next time they're here to play!

Old Crow Medicine Show

(P.S., there will be whiskey involved. Due to legality issues, I cannot guarantee moonshine, though I'll strongly suggest its presence).

Voting.

Vote, Fools!

Monongah: The Tragic Story of the 1907 Monongah Mine Disaster, the Worst Industrial Accident in US History (West Virginia and Appalachia):

Just so everyone knows, this is my dad's book:

Amazon.com: Monongah: The Tragic Story of the 1907 Monongah Mine Disaster, the Worst Industrial Accident in US History (West Virginia and Appalachia): Books: Davitt McAteer

He put a hell of a lot of work into it, and it shows. It may not be (as Mr. Curry critiques) the most well-edited book, but it took long enough to get the story written.

SoulFood: The kind you eat

Even though I'm headed to my beloved home this weekend (and its greater tri-state area, too), I still persuaded Captain BF to bring me a plate of good old home cooking from Union Street Bar. This follows the principle of "bringin' a plate back", a practice upheld by some Southern subcultures where if ya'll decide to go over there, I'm gonna stay here and do this/watch TV/run laundry/smoke a bowl/write my paper, but bring me back a plate, okay?

Well, I discovered last week that Union Street had a heretofore undiscovered delicacy: Sweet Potato Dumplings. They are just as bad for you as they sound. They're like bread made of sweet potatoes and deep fried in what is I am absolutely telling you pork fat (in the middle of Newton, home of all good things Jewish? No! But YES!) no matter what they say. Secret number one: the cheddar cheese makes no difference. Secret number two: the "maple dipping sauce" is Mrs. Butterworth. This appetizer is Sin Itself. I intend to savor my giant taters of goodness over the next three days.


By the way, my Blog-Rollio keeps growing. I hope you silly people are checking them out. Mostly, they're my friends and are all quite clever and attractive and rich (well. clever and attractive). And worth a good read, too!

GoogleEarthWorm

So when you look at the state of West Virginia via Google Earth (and likely many other states as well, but we all know The Mountain State is the Best State) it's made up different block-configurations. One of them is a giant brown rectangle in the middle of it which is much more detailed than the rest of the state. Either that shot was taken during the fall or winter and no one's needed to look at it for a while, or else strip-mining is a lot more devastating -- and symmetrical -- than I'd thought.

But trying to search the greener parts of the state is hopeless. Once you get past the vague outline of rivers snaking through brilliant shades of green, all that happens is more and more pixels of green. I'm looking for a program that will be real-time, that will zoom so close to the earth that if I want to watch a chipmunk eating a hollyseed on the forest floor of Pipestem State Park, I can have that and have it instantly.


I'm kidding. Chipmunks are too camera-shy for that [insert mental image of enormous satellite hovering uncertainly above the ground in a grove of trees as a chipmunk stares, with its cheeks full and a startled expression on its face]. Besides, I like the fact that you can't dig any further into the landscape. Ain't nobody's business what goes on up there.

OCMS vs. The Man

Just got my Old Crow Medicine Show circular today. For some reason they're not coming back to Massachusetts on their regularly scheduled time, which I think was around September or October last year. They'll be (oddly enough) in Dublin instead. Go fig.

But they have put out a sweet, sweet video to "I Hear Them All" which of course is a really great protest song and the video itself doesn't stand on ceremony where that's concerned. Nor does it stand with subtlety, but we all know how not-subtle I am. So I can appreciate that.



Hopefully my Irish friends can go and check out the show in September and some of my lucky lucky Southern friends can hit up the music fest in Kentucky which will be hosting some truly amazing artists. Of course, if you go, it'd be sweet if you could get me a T-shirt. No pressure though.

Okay, okay, I'll say it, i'll confess...







....I miss California. But don't tell anyone.



I love WVa. Without a doubt it will always be my number one state. But something about today (and the pollen count) makes me miss the sun beating down in true west coast style on the stucco walls of bolivian cafes and intermittent hippie-shops, where clueless kids wait on bus benches to be taken to home, school, destination unknown and undetermined...fragrant and foreign, the reflection of the ocean on the horizon clashing with the smog of Los Angeles, and the sun sun sun sun....


i'm not a sunworshipper---i'm pale in that unattractive, slightly reddish way (not the beautiful ivory toned redheaded way) and burning is more my specialty than anything else. but what a change sunlight wreaks upon your psyche (and eventually upon your brain---i get headaches so easily from being in merciless outdoor glare.)

I won't move there, though.

Returned from the wilds of western Ireland (which is only about 3 hours from eastern Ireland, so we're not talking major travels here) and am now sitting safely ensconced in Seamus and Orla's Dublin apt. desperately trying to book tickets from Amsterdam to Paris and from Paris to London. Everyone is more than welcome to make fun of me for being completely disorganized and scatterbrained about making travel plans --- oh, but wait....I'm here, and you're over there. So nyah.

Please take a moment to think about the burning question posed on the MSN site for this afternoon: OK to freeze bananas? A question which may never be answered....dear god, can I possibly put this simple plantain into my Kenmore without incurring the wrath of evil forces uknown....How much more inane will society get before we all commit mass suicide??????

Sorry. I'm totally tangenting because the world will not let me book my tickets. I have money, can't you do anything with money?? Surely....

Anyway, on Saturday morning (having seen nothing more of Dublin's attractions than the inside of a couple pubs and the Writers Museum which is a cool little trip but only does you for about 1/2 an hour) Dad and I booked it for Mayo, which is, in case you're not aware, where at least one quarter of the ye olde McAteer family is from. Dad drives like a maniac on these roads. If I'd driven anywhere like what he did, he'd be hoarse from yelling at me the whole time. I can't say anything, I'm just the daughter, but it's my opinion that when you are less than a foot away from the embankment and all kinds of stone walls and road signs, you don't go 70 miles an hour and pass people on blind curves. God forbid anyone think us Americans should we be driving too slow or not overtaking 5 cars in one pass. Any of my friends who are afraid to drive with me, let me just tell you that I'm a grandmother behind the wheel compared to this action. Regardless, we made it to Ballina (which dad insists on pronouncing Ballin-I even after all the locals pronounce it Ballin-Ah). Ballina's about the 2nd biggest town in Mayo and has a couple hotels and b n bs, apparently Mayo has gone upscale since dad was last there, It's a cute little place but the town itself is maybe the size of Shepherdstown, definitely smaller than Charlestown, and if this is 2nd largest town then blimey, small towns in the US have nothng on this country.

By the way, they have the scariest most depressing recycling commercials here, I guess pollution is really a problem. Their anti-smoking commercials are pretty bad, too, they do the whole "these are the lungs of a 38 year old smoker" ones. It's enough to put you off your lunch. We could never run them in the states--someone would find them un-PC and there'd be lawsuits galore. But they're effective. AND Ireland will have a country wide ban on smoking in pubs and restaurants starting the 26th of Jan. of next year. And boy, I do NOT know what they're gonna do, because EVERYONE smokes. I mean everyone. Infants smoke. Dogs smoke. It's insane. The tobacco companies are scrambling to readjust the legislature but it's not going to fly, they'll never manage. Then all that'll happen is that people will simply stand outside the bars, and only go in to buy their pints. And in places like Belderrig (oh, just wait til you hear about Belderrig) the ban will be quietly ignored until about 5 yrs down the road when the town actually gets it's own Garda station (Garda are police) and will have to start enforcing it.

Anyway, we stay in Ballina for the night, after having driven into Ballycastle, 2nd smallest and most dead place in Mayo, to try the Stella Maris hotel. The Stella Maris is this amazingly beautiful hotel set on a sheltered cove off of Killala Bay. It's right out of some 19th c. Gothic novel, the hills rising behind it and the wind whipping right off, and i mean RIGHT off the cove in front of it, no joke, you could walk out the door and fall into the ocean. Unfortnately, the Stella Maris was closed til April (i'm coming back, tho. I should see if they need summer help---ohhhh, that's an excellent idea!). So we stayed at the Ridgepoole in Ballina, which was actually a Best Western in disguise and consequently upset dad's digestion although if he would stop eating so much pasta in marinara sauce he might let the acid level in his stomach drop and then he' d quit bitching about his tummyache all the time.

Our trip into Ballycastle both established the sheer emptiness of the town and the sheer nastiness of the weather (North Atlantic winter rain weather, absolutely miserable) and also helped us to find an old family acquaintance of dad's--Cauleen Caulfield Barrett. She's about dad's age, a little older, and is the daughter of a man dad and grandma met when they'd come up the first time to visit Mayo. Paddy Caufield was an archaeologist who lived in Belderrig and was familiar with some of our family history, helping my father to retrace his roots to where they'd originally lived (in Belderrig). Paddy's long since died, God rest him, but Cauleen was able to give us some pointers about where we might go and suggested that going to Mass in Belderrig would be a good idea, "since that's where the ancestars are." I wouldn't say that anyone was jumping out of their seats to welcome us, but it was a reserved and dignified kind of transaction, Dad and I trying to explain who we were and what we were looking for, and Cauleen and her husband sitting silently and listening, then coming up with a breif and concise answer. So needless to say, we took Cauleen's advice and went flying down the road the next morning to St. Theresa's in Belderrig.

Belderrig is no bigger than a postage stamp. You want a wide space in the road you got it. There is a church and a pub. And that's all. There are a couple B&Bs in what dad jestingly refers to as "greater Belderrig" meaning the outskirts towards the shoreline, but I have never seen a smaller town in my life. Even Leetown, WVa has a legit post office. So we were late for mass, just like our ancestors probably were, I think it's a genetic failing. And we crept in the back door with one other woman who was also late for mass and who gave me the evil eye when I accidentally shut the door on her going in. I was rewarded for my failure to wait by the fact that the door would then not close, no matter what i did, so I let it hang open and one of the men who sit in the back of the church, all the old farmer type guys who go to mass out of a healthy respect and superstition that should they not go, life might get even worse than it already is, walked over and shut it with a simple twist of the knob. I think I would make a really terrible diplomat. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining and the clouds that blew over head would sprinkle with only the tiniest of showers at times. Belderrig is chipped into the hillside, as there's no valley in the area, and all around are these huge barren hills with nothing at all on them. I've never wanted to hike up something in my whole life but these hills were calling me in the strangest way. It's as if you could see the rest of the world just standing on top of them---I've seen taller mountains and lusher hills than these but they were amazing.

So after mass--during which every single person in that church got a good stare in by they time we returned to the foyer after communion---dad was the only man wearing a suit in the whole place and boy, did we look ridiculous--we emptied out with everyone else and stood around in the lot waiting for the priest to come out (he never did). But there was a crowd that sort of lingered and dad and I were near a group of 3 older gentlemen who were apparently communing silently. I was not at all prepared to jump into the fray with any kind of ice breaker like, so, how bout we lost to Australia yesterday? Bummer, huh? or dad's favorite "So what do you think of the Euro?" That one's a real winner, let me tell you. Eventually dad drifted back to them and mentioned that we were originally from the town and that we'd been looking to research our roots. The men didn't really say anything. Dad takes the opportunity to introduce me. And then the ball gets rolling--slowly, to be sure, but it's going. We mention the Caulfields and the Carelans and make a few connections (but as one of the gentlemen point out, there are too many Flannerys out and about these days to really know when you're dealing with family) shake hands again and move on to the pub. Dad wanted his cup of tea.

So i'm thinking that the pub, at 11.30 am, will be kind of like the parish center, scones and tea and coffee and some hard rolls and a bit of jam and butter around. No. A pub is a pub is a pub. I never in my life would have believed it, I'd have thought it one of those exaggerations that some people make up when they've travelled, but honest to god we walked into the pub and every man jack of them was having a pint. The ladies had half pints. Not quite Guinness, no, but Carlsberg or what have you. I lost it (laughing on the inside, of course). No other place, probably not many left in Ireland as it is, would you walk in immediately after church and see half the congregation getting a start on their drinking. Once dad realized that tea would take a little longer (like, never) to get to us, he went up and switched the order to a couple pints. We sat in the corner and were just kind of dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say, or who I would have said it to.

We finish our pints and dad wants to go explore a bit--can't say that I blame him, like i said, i was ready to walk for miles, just to see what could be seen. We drove up towards my favorite of the hills, a knobby looking thing that looked as though it might have a promising sheer drop on one side if you could just get up there. These were the peat bogs,up on the mountain, and there were bags and bags of peat ready to be taken down and sold. There were little clear streams on either side of the gravel road and the rain swooped through and around once in a while. No treees, not much vegetation, just the water and the peat and our little Citroen. And..................


.................RAINBOWS. There are rainbows ALL THE TIME. You know how you'll see a rainbow maybe once a year if you're lucky? I'm not much of one for spiritualism or hokey holisitic ideas but this place must have been blessed by God. At no time was there not a rainbow, or a half of one or just a fragment, if not the full bow or a double bow, shining in the sky. It's the most beautiful place on earth. I didn't get a picutre of it but I will remember for the rest of my life, the best image ever which was to see the bay on one side, where the rainbow began, and the hills on the other where it ended, with the tiny town and its church and its pub and its taciturn and hardscrabble locals right in the middle. If everything else on this trip goes wrong, if I end up stranded in the Dam working the shopwindows in the Red Light District, or huddled under the bridges over the Seine in Paris, or even living in the tube tunnels in London, I will have the picture of Belderrig with the rainbows and that will make everything worthwhile.

Ladies and Gentlemen--
This year, the Thanksgiving menu at VT will include the following:

--A Heaping Helping of Crow (as turkey, even castrated turkey, wouldn't be quite cricket)
--Plenty of egg (to be worn on the face)
--Finished with a large slice of Humble Pie.

Take that, Hoakies--WVU may be uncouth, loud, proud, unpleasant and unruly as all get out, but at least we stick to our team and stick to our guns--and we certainly don't beat our own players--We maintain with the EC, but there are those who can't take the heat, so I guess they're out of the kitchen...adios and bon voyage, keep a close eye on your couches!

(all of you know i never do this. ever. let me have a chance to gloat and be immature about the one sporting event I devote myself to.)