West Virginia Roots

My Pappaw passed away last summer at the age of 89. He was one of the best men I knew, and there are moments where I find myself disappointed that I didn’t get to know him during my adulthood. He was a high-school teacher for most of his life, and following his passing, my mom created a scholarship fund in his honor to be awarded to a graduating senior from Wyoming East, a high-school that he taught at in their hometown of Pineville, West Virginia. Earlier this week I began brainstorming my ideas for what I wanted to write about, and I decided to write about West Virginia. A few days later, my mom texted me to share that the first Stoutamyer Scholarship had been awarded to a young man from Wyoming East. Whether or not you believe in signs from the universe, I took this as one from my Pappaw. My stories and memories from West Virginia are very special and dear to me, as I feel proud to know such a beautiful place. I hope you enjoy this post, and I hope you leave feeling more compelled to visit the wild and wonderful state of West Virginia.

Pineville, West Virginia. Located along the Guyandotte River in Wyoming County.

Population: 619 (2022).

Growing up, my family would dedicate most holidays to visiting my mom’s parents in Pineville, West Virginia. We would load up the car and make our 6-hour trek north-west across the state of Virginia and into West Virginia, never failing to honk the car horn as we crossed state lines. After 5 hours of driving, we would reach Beckley, the “we’re almost there!” part of the trip. Within the next 20 minutes we knew we would be entering the danger zone: windy back-roads that are an absolute nightmare for young children who get car sick. We quickly learned this part of the trip had a strategy to it, fall asleep or run the risk of throwing up in the back seat. Both situations happened more than once, sometimes resulting in an abrupt stop to pull over on the side of a mountain.

Pineville is in the middle of nowhere. We never had cell service, and Wi-Fi was a hot commodity. During Thanksgiving, my Mammaw would sit us down with toy catalogs and tell us to circle anything that we might want. Later, she would call the company and order any items by phone. They had a P.O. box instead of a mailbox and lived adjacent to Appalachian Highway. Their house had a big wooden back porch and sat atop a large hill that led down to the creek.

Some of my fondest childhood memories took place in their home, on their back porch or in the back yard. I learned how to shoot a BB-gun from the back porch, aiming at Coca-Cola cans we had thrown down the hill as targets. We went sledding down the big hill during the wintertime, and trash bagging during the spring and summer when it rained. Trash-bagging involved riding down the slick hill on a black Hefty brand trash bag while trying to not ruin the grass too much on the climb back up. My first bee sting happened there while going down a slip-n-slide in the backyard. I got my first training bra at Magic Mart, a department store found in Appalachian states that no longer operates. We had family reunions most summers and drank an absurd amount of “baby cokes” which are Coca-Colas in a glass bottle. My sister and I would rush to take drink orders at meals so that we could open the bottle tops for anyone who wanted a baby coke.

Our big shopping day involved going to downtown Pineville and stopping at Pat’s Fashions – a place where you could find clothes, prom dresses, or get your taxes done. After that, we might check out some of the other stores including the furniture store owned by a family friend or the Walgreens. We ate lunches from The Pinnacle Drive-In that consisted of subs made with bread that was deep-fried and some of the world’s BEST hotdogs (probably the only one I will eat to this day). We had dinners out at the Cow Shed, home to the world’s best claw machine and cheesy bread. During meals my Pappaw would allow us to pick numbers to bet on during a game of Keno. Afterwards, we would take any prize money from our bets and go spend it at the Family Dollar next door.  

Mammaw and Pappaw were teachers for several years, and their students adored them. There were times that we would all be sitting together in the living room watching the television or telling stories when there would be a knock on the door. Oftentimes it would be a former student or family friend who was walking by the house and saw extra cars in front and wanted to stop in and say hello. When I was younger I was somewhat confused by this unusual type of social norm, but as I’ve aged I’ve come to recognize it for what it was: a sense of community. They lived in a small town, in which they held life-long careers and raised a family. They met numerous people during their time as educators and their lasting impact was apparent then and it still is today. Anytime my mom posts a photo of my Mammaw on Facebook, comments come flooding in from former students about how much they loved Mrs. Stoutamyer. Similar comments brought tears to my eyes after my mom shared the passing of my Pappaw. Their impact on their students has always left me with the internal desire to be an educator.

We went back to Pineville last summer for my Pappaw’s funeral service. We placed a big order at The Pinnacle Drive-In for dinner, and upon arrival to pick it up we were told it was on the house and that they loved Mr. Stoutamyer. The people in small, rural, Appalachian towns continue to show me the good in the world and there has never been a doubt in my mind about the impact my grandparents had on the people they met.

The love and appreciation I have for this town and the lessons it has taught me is profound and at times overwhelming. It hasn’t been until recent reflection that I have come to realize how crucial it has been to my character and my values. As a teenager I often found myself bored and restless looking for something to do. Now I would give anything to return to their home and spend hours on the back porch appreciating the stillness and peace of the mountains. While I am not a native of Appalachia, I feel lucky to have experienced it in some ways. It has shaped my interests in the natural world and environment, taught me the importance of showing people grace and being patient, and the strength behind community. I share these stories for a few reasons: #1 to serve as a reminder that the people can and DO make a place. #2 being that it could maybe serve as an inspirational starting point for you to explore a world unknown to you. While I have shared stories of beautiful moments from my time in West Virginia, there are also countless disparities that occur in these neglected places. #3 As encouragement to reflect on the places and the people that have molded you into the person you are today. As always, thank you for reading. If you have a place like this that you hold close to your heart, I invite you to share that with me.

There are endless books you can read about Appalachia. These are just a few that I have read, and I hope to read more:

• The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
• Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance
• Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingslover
• Dopesick by Beth Macy