I’ve witnessed some amazing stories of love up here in the mountains. Love, when it goes right here, is an amazing and beautiful thing. I’ve touched on some of the great loves I’ve seen in “I’ll Fly Away” and “Whose Sweetheart are You?” Both of those stories are about widows, but I’ve also seen members of the current generation who seem to share a depth of love that we rarely see anymore. Pastor Jimmy Morrow and his wife, Pam, my serpent handling friends, come to mind. They positively glow with their love for each other. It’s like watching swans.
They do have some charming courtship customs. There used to be something called a “Pie Supper”. They would use these to raise money for school supplies and things the community needed. Girls would bake pies and bring them. Then the young men would bid on the pies for the honor of eating the pie with the young lady who made it. They would also auction a “walk” with the pie baker. If a young man bought both a girl’s pie and her walk, it meant his intentions were serious.
One of my friends tells the story of when she was a newlywed and her husband had gone back to the war in Korea. She was staying with her family and she and her sisters attended a pie supper. She asked them not to enter a pie with her name on it in the auction, but they did anyway. A young man, who was shy, but had been carrying a candle for her for many years bought both her pie and her walk. He had just returned from his own stint in Korea and was still wearing his uniform.
After the bidding, she took him his pie and said, “You can have the pie and eat it, but I’m a married woman now and can’t share it with you or go on a walk.”
His face crumpled and he said, “But you can’t be married yet!”
He had waited too long.
Love is tied up with faith in the mountains. They are deeply religious. It’s not uncommon to see themes of epiphanies, redemption and retribution in people’s personal stories. Many times a marriage will truly flower after the man has been “saved”, either by religion or by the woman.
One of my favorite stories involves a couple around my age. She became very ill about fifteen years ago. He promised God he would never drink again if she would only recover. She did, and he has kept that promise.
Another couple were married and he strayed into infidelity. He became seriously ill and she nursed him back to health while the other woman abandoned him. They are one of the most devoted couples I know now.
There is still a very strong taboo against divorce here. It does happen, but it is spoken of in hushed terms. It’s more common when things don’t work out for the couple to separate quietly. Often times, they do get back together.
Likewise, when it goes wrong, it can be a violent, tragic mess. Most of the families here are quite large and inter-related. Domestic violence does happen. It is not at all uncommon, if a woman is beaten by her husband, for her male family members to beat the crap out of the offender. And I’m talking a “put in the hospital” beating. Usually the offender leaves the community or just disappears.
They have their own sort of justice here.
I have heard whisperings, though I have no real confirmation, of something like honor killings. It’s not just for women, though, and it’s more likely to happen for an offense like the sexual molestation or endangerment of a child.
They have a phrase, “Like t’ end up in the Gulf.”
The Gulf is a large wilderness area. The phrase implies that a person might be killed and the body dumped in the Gulf for the bears to take of the remains.
The women are remarkably long suffering compared to women on the outside in what they will put up with. And there is something different about this, in that it seems to be very much a conscious decision on their part. But they do have limits. I’ve spoken with many women who set boundaries early in their relationships.
“If you ever hit me, I’ll kill you.”
And they totally mean it. And the men know they mean it. These are not women you want to cross.
Today’s story is about a woman who didn’t wait for her kinfolk to take care of her problem. It’s called, “Lilly of the Holler”.