Once Unique, Soon a Place Like Any Other

摘要

I grew up in the mountains of East Tennessee, on a modest farm where we raised a lot of what we ate, watched sunsets on the porch and had supper together every night For nine generations, mine included, both sides of my family have lived and died in the shadows of the surrounding peaks. My formative years were spent listening to Papaw (my grandfather) saw away on an old fiddle and Dad flat-pick his six-string guitar as they taught me the songs of Southern Appalachia and handed down a centuries-old musical tradition. A great-great-great-great-greatgrandfather of mine was baptized into the Forks of the Pigeon River Baptist Church in 1796, which he later pastored for 31 years—we are still faithful members, though the name has changed. No one ever really moves away from here and no one ever used to move in. Lately, though, they've been coming in droves.