I have been so delighted to have spent some one-on-one time with family this week (end of June-July 4th, 2021). Today’s treasure was a conversation with my Uncle Lowell Meade, who shared his life as a miner, union worker, cattle and horse handler, and a beloved husband and father. He told me about his 33.5 years in the underground coal mine, and how, in all those years, having gone 15-16 miles within the heart of the pitch black earth, that he never reached the deepest point! 

He gave me picturesque descriptions about what life and hard work were like back in those days, reminiscing with such clarity, at age 86, of that bygone era. He worked, in the belly of the darkness, surrounded by a coal dust pit, weeks away from home, union-issued cots, blankets, meals, and picket line duties, in order to make provisions for himself and his family, with greatest gravity expressed towards his responsibilities to his precious wife and children, his love unwavering and freely given. 

He told of the steel rails being “cited” by a “colored man” who tickled him to death with the way he would call out exactly how to position the steel in order to get the supply lines through. He said he was “dead-on” every single time! I was particularly taken by the account he gave, as I had never heard a lot about the white and black men working together back then, before during times of segregation, and in what I have mostly known as a predominantly white area of Southwest Virginia. His account was heartwarming and enlightening in so many ways. He recalled the name of one of his best buddies in the mines, riding with him every day, and, as he put it, “We were brothers, every man looked out for the other. It didn’t matter - red man, colored man, white man - we was all black when we came out!” 

In a world of racial tension, cancel culture, and so many other divisive intentions among humankind itself, I think it important to recognize mankind, at the heart, and once again proclaim, “We all bleed red!” It is also time for us to remember that, alongside inequality, there often lies similarities and overlooked equalities. The human spirit, the family experience, responsibilities to our world, our work, our families - all the same - co-existent. Cancel culture allows us to “believe” in a fantastical past, one skewed by vantage points that quite possibly didn’t even exist during the said history of which the cancellation is taking place! There will always be division, as long as hatred exists in the heart of man. However, cancelling the good, at times preserving only the bad, or even a skewed version or truth or fact, does not enhance our future. We must learn from the past, gleaning the goodness, and striving to promote better human beings for our future generations!

Part of the vision for our future needs to include the work ethic of those such as my Uncle Lowell, the love of family, and the responsibility that mother and father have to their children as well as their parents. He lovingly took care of all of these responsibilities in his lifetime - his mother, bed bound for many years, cherished and cared for, as he looked after her from his homestead just next door; and his five prized possessions - his “girls,” (wife, Ruble, and daughters, Teresa, Cheryl, Cecelia, and Amanda. 

This was the very first time in all my years of stopping in when we would visit, that I got to talk to my sweet uncle, one-on-one! I surely pray there will be a next time to chat on the front porch of my Aunt Ruble’s and Uncle Lowell’s modest brick masterpiece on Meade Fork! He is the most timeless, ageless, “purdiest” man I know, his handsome face nearly without a single wrinkle, as smooth and familiar to me as  when I was as a child. Though, I never really “knew” him as a little girl, remembering him for his grand coin collection and stamps galore, his beautiful horses that I coveted so much, and his tireless efforts to raise all of these glorious creatures! I was always so thrilled to look at his latest coin collections, often displayed in glass frames, and thought they were quite the pirate’s find! My perspective slightly different now, I have found it to be my uncle, the man, the real treasure! And I am so grateful that I have gotten to know him in my adulthood, more and more with each visit, though this one will be forever etched in my mind, held dear within my memories, as our first real “heart-to-heart.” 

I will always consider this “home,” though these mountains have never truly been my physical home for more than a few months of my youth. Hearts and souls connect here in a way that cannot be explained, only experienced. When they say, “Home is where the heart is,” I think of the little known town of Pound, VA, once Coal Country, now struggling to persevere and survive the eminent ghost town destinies being dealt to fossil fuel dependent economies. May we all band together - heartstrings, wallets, minds, and abilities, in order to salvage the past, the present, and the future of this priceless commodity, so rich, even at the core of its poverty, in heritage, pride, and love! And, I am thrilled that my perceived childhood thoughts about a gold coin and stamp treasury fit for a museum, causing my heart to do flip-flops while resisting the urge to touch, have gained a new perspective and their rightful place on the wall, or in a hidden drawer; while real value is expressed through golden nuggets of conversation and enduring love. 

-Amy Tetterton

Revised 

10/16/2021