January-February 1990
The Mountain Spirit T h e M agazine o f the C h ristian A ppalachian Project
T h e IMountain S p irit:
The Magazine of the Christian Appalachian Project V ol. IX , N o. 1
January-February 1990
Contents Features 4
A D ay W ith the E lderly by J o e Foley C A P o u trea ch w orker J o e Foley spent a day recently w ith v o lu n teer Ed J a h n k e , an d som e o f the elderly people he visits in Floyd C o u n ty .
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G randpa’s Funeral by K eith M o rg an A sad g a th erin g becom es a test of physical strength as a fam ily m ust clim b a m o u n ta in in o rd e r to lay th e ir g ra n d fa th e r to rest.
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B itter Creek Breakdow n: A R eview by G ary E ldridge G a rry B arker, know n to Mountain Spirit read ers as a short story w riter, has collected som e o f his p oetry in a volum e d edicated to his g ran d so n .
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A C hristian W ay o f L ife by G ary E ldridge T h e E m m a u s C h ristian Life C e n te r is hom e to elderly people w ho are not able o r choose n o t to live on th e ir ow n. E m m a u s provides w arm shelter, yes, b u t m u ch m ore.
Departments 3 9 10 14 22
From Our Founder Letters A round the Project T he CAP C loseup R andom T houghts
Visiting the elderly, p. 4
Emmaus, p. 23
The January-February Theme M u ch of the strength of A ppalachia is rooted in her elderly people—the people who have lived through tougher tim es and rem in d us th at living th ro u g h the tough tim es m akes us b etter, stronger people. C A P has several program s whose goals are to m ake lives a little easier for the elderly people in o u r counties. O n page four, Jo e Foley says the elderly visitation program represents “ C A P in its m ost p u re fo rm .” G ary Eldridge introduces you to Peggy P atrick an d some of the residents of the E m m aus C h ristian Life C en ter on page tw entythree. O n the C O V E R volunteer Ed Ja h n k e visits w ith M agoffin C o u n ty resident E d n a W illis (photo by Foley). O n the B A C K C O V E R , J a n u a ry is stark in the m o u n tain s (photo by G abriel).
P ublished by the C h ristian A ppalachian P roject. Editor: M a rg aret G abriel. A d visory Board: F ath er R alph W . Beiting, M ike M cL au g h lin , Rose Price, Bill Begley, G ary G . E ldridge, J u n e W id m an , K athleen Ford Leavell; P atricia M iracle P adgett. G raphics C oordinator: E lizabeth R eed M iller. C irculation: L in d a C u rtis G rider. The Mountain Spirit is published six tim es a year. T h e annual subscription price is $5.00. S ubscriptions an d o th er correspondence should be sent to The Mountain Spirit, C h ristian A ppalachian P roject, 322 C rab O rch ard R oad, L ancaster, K entucky 40446. C opy rig h t, 1990, the C hristian A ppalachian Project, Inc. All rights reserved. M em ber, C atholic Press A ssociation. T h e C h ristian A ppalachian P roject is a non-profit C h ristian service organization operating th roughout E astern K entucky. T h e project operates on the philosophy th at “ helping people help them selves” is the best approach to A ppalachian poverty.
From Our Founder
I feel a strong sense of kinship to Father Damien. When I came to Appalachia nearly 40 years ago, I was a young man of 26. Now my 66th birthday is almost at hand. My mind goes back to those early days when I explored the hills and hollers that stretched out from Berea, Lancaster, McKee and Mount Vernon. The people I found were elderly, often left alone. They worried about health and the future, sad that life was slipping away. I loved helping them. Sometimes I would sit and talk. Our talk fre quently went to God and His kingdom. We talked about the past and the future that too often they feared. Food and clothing were fur nished; sometimes shelter. Medical care and recreation were always a part of my concern. But it was always I reaching out to them. Forty years have changed all of that. Now I am older than many of the people I care for. What do I think about growing old now that I am old? Overall, I am glad and hap py about being old. Why? Well, first of all, it reminds me of my true home. Life on earth is a wonderful thing. I enjoyed discovering all the exciting things God has hidden for our well-being. I enjoyed the strength of youth and the maturity that the middle years brought. But I Ja n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
Gabriel
s I prepared to write this col umn on the elderly, I remembered an episode out of the life of Father Damien, the leper priest of Molokai in the Hawaiian island chain. For years he had labored for the lepers. He built them houses, brought in running water, fed them and, in due time, buried them. He always began his Sunday sermon with the words, “My dear lepers.” But then one Sun day he began his sermon with the words, “My fellow lepers.” No longer was he an outsider caring for them. Now he was one of them.
was made for something even more special. A better land awaited me, I have found. Old age reminds me of this. I find it easier to pray and meditate on the real world of God and his justice and peace. I am beginning to look forward to the time when the best will be. From diabetes, arthritis and muliple aches and pains I know at first hand the shortcomings of old age. It hurts. But once again I find this an opportunity rather than a curse. When Christ was young, he preach ed, he worked miracles. The lame walked, the blind saw, the hungry were fed and the poor had good news. But by his own admission he stated that only when he was lifted up on the cross would he draw all people to himself. When he no longer controlled his destiny, then he was the most powerful, the pro ductive. I am convinced that when I have to pull myself up the steps by grasp ing the stair rails with both hands, when I limp when once I ran, when I wake during the night with muscle pains, when driving, especially at night, becomes a torture, I may very well be at my most powerful, most productive stage of my life. My sufferings added to those of my Savior will enable me to do more good than ever the strength of my youth could bring. I am not asham ed to admit that sometimes the pain brings tears but when they dry, I feel like the apostles when they were scourged and expelled from their church. “They went forth rejoicing for they had been found worthy to suffer for Christ.” Once I gave what I decided on; now I can give what God sends. I like young people, not because they are the best. They aren’t. I like them because of what they can grow to be. I see the giant that hopefully they one day will become. But they
F ath er R alph B e itin g .
have temptations by the thousands that will lead them astray or discourage them. No one can give hope more than one who has walked the road before. Who better than the old can say that sacrifices are worthwhile, that an effort must be made, that the whole journey is worth every step no matter how painful or un sure. I like to be one of those people who says it is all worthwhile, that there is hope. Being old doesn’t mean life has passed me by. It only means that I am asked to live it in a different fashion. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning once said, “Come, grow old with me. The best is yet to be.” Each new day when I get myself together I ask myself the question, “What good can I do today?” Like St. Francis I trust that I can bring peace instead of conflict, love in stead of hate and revenge, hope in stead of despair. As I see it, the world needs me more now that I am old than it did when I was young. I sure don’t in tend to let it down. 3
A Day With the Elderly story and photos by Joe Foley Elderly visitation volunteers have always seemed to me to be some of the most charged in our organization. At the same time, they seem to represent CAP at its most pure. There is very little distribution of goods or materials. There are no special program facilities. Paperwork is minimal. A simple Christian presence is the core of the pro gram. I think the world of these volunteers. I even married one of them. Ed Jahnke is a lean Northerner harking from Marshfield, Wisconsin in his second year of CAP volunteer commitment with the elderly visitation program. For months he and I have wanted to go out visiting together, but for some reason or another haven’t connected. This story assignment gave us the opportunity. Our first stop that morning was at the home of Edna Willis, on the outskirts of Salyersville, the Magoffin County seat. The house is wood and painted white and is surrounded by newer homes. The lawn is trimmed and neatly flows around flower gardens now killed back by the frost. Har dy mums are the only thing still blooming. Two push mowers sit on the front porch. Edna and her late husband moved into the house in 1935, when the nearby Mountain 4
Ed J a h n k e shares a sm ile w ith M ad ge C ooper.
Parkway wasn’t even conceived and when Salyersville wasn’t the two minutes away that it is now, but a great, muddy distance. Year by year, Edna and her husband made improvements. One year they laid wood flooring in a certain room. Another, they put up paneling. Ed knocks several times at the front door. No answer. He peers through the window. Unusual for her not to be home, he says. He knocks again. We are just turning to leave when the door heaves open and Edna says quickly, “come on in.” Then she’s gone again, back into the house. The smell of cinnamon floods through the door. I look at Ed. We go in. Ed has, of course, been here before, so he knows the way to the kitchen (a talent volunteers inevitably acquire). Edna bends over large pots of boiling water. She is making apple butter from the trees in her yard. Dried beans lie scattered over the white linen on the dining table. Local news comes over the radio. Edna stirs the pots once more, turns down the stove, and then invites us to sit in the living room. “He checks on me; Pm so glad,” Edna says of Ed. “Feel like he’s one of my boys.” Talk goes on. Edna tells us how her garden did. The Mountain Spirit
D u rin g th e sum m er m on th s Ed stops b y to ad m ire the garden in w h ich E d n a W illis takes so m uch p rid e.
She just sowed Vech, a high-nitrogen ground cover, to prepare the soil for this coming spring. She takes us to the closet where she has stored all her canned vegetables from the garden. Tomatoes, beans, kraut. She gives Ed and me each a jar of apples . “How in the world?” I say. “You’re 85 years old and . . .” Edna cuts me short. “I’m not 85 ’til next March.” “It’s pretty nice for people to have a little will power,” Edna says. “If you knew how I was rais ed. I can plant corn with a corn planter as good as a man. I’ve helped gather corn and I’ve helped cut it and shuck it.” “It’s the faith in God that gives us the strength to do it,” Ed says. “I thank the Lord, he’s been so good to me. I look at the things that I do and I turn around and say ‘Lord, I thank you for giving me the mind and the strength to do it,”’ Edna says. Edna’s husband and a son, both gone now, were ministers. I mention Edna’s flower gardens. “I love to look at flowers and to work in the garden,” Edna says. “I love to see anything grow. I love pretty crea tion.” I think of the mountains surrounding us. “Regardless how rough the land is, it’s wonder ful—God made it,” she says. “This is just home to me. I couldn’t go nowhere else ’til the Lord takes me on to heaven. Won’t that be wonderful? He’s been so good to me.” J a n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
Ed and C harlie P erk in s o f M a g o ffin C o u n ty feed the “ w elc o m in g co m m itte e ” — four p ig s.
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Back in the car and on toward Royalton, in southern Magoffin County. Ed talks of his work. “This visitation opens our eyes to one another. If I’m in a different culture I share things in my culture with them. They share things with me —gardening, sewing, crafts, music. It’s a two-way street. I think the biggest thing is sharing that we are one in our faith. Even though I come from a Catholic background and most of the people we see are Baptist, we find out we’re not very different. We share the same love of Jesus.” The elderly visitation program of which Ed is a part covers nine counties and serves over 350 peo ple in CAP’S service area. Criteria for inclusion in the program are flexible, but generally those visited are over 60 and live alone with little transportation or family support. Besides visita tion, the program sponsors or co-sponsors special events such as get-togethers at Thanksgiving, Christmas or St. Patrick’s Day. It has special shopping days when senior citizens are together taken to area stores. It will also pick up groceries and/or medicine for those unable to get out and will often provide transportation for doctor’s ap pointments. The program also serves as an ad vocate for the elderly in dealing with government agencies. “With the elderly, I find you learn more from them than you can ever give them in return,” says
Judy Crum, the program coordinator for Floyd, Magoffin and Knott counties. I love to help peo ple. I love talking to people. That I’ll take any day over computer sheets and office work. I feel good inside about my work. Being able to help people, to me, is a part of what the Lord did when he was here. “Sometimes we’re the only people they can let their burdens fall on,” Judy says. “It helps them to talk about some of the things in their lives. We have to be good listeners.” I ask Judy about the volunteers that work in the program with her. “It helps you to grow as a person, especially when you’re young, to visit and to talk with these elderly people. They can teach you so much. Sometimes we think we have all this knowledge because of school and training, but when it comes down to actual experience, that means more than anything on paper. “I think with the program volunteers, there’s been a lot of personal growth, a lot of spiritual growth. It’s just wonderful.” Back in the car with Ed, we stop just shy of Royalton at Orphie Arnett’s home. For 50 years, Orphie was a Sunday school teacher at the nearby Licking River Church. She kindly greets us at the door with her two little dogs, Kizzie and Tiny, and invites us in to sit by the heater.
In a d d itio n to h er gard en s, E d n a k eep s a v a riety o f p ets, in clu d in g a cat that seem s to h a v e tak en to E d.
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The Mountain Spirit
W hen Ed v isits M adge C oop er, th eir tim e alw ays in clu d es a rea d in g from Scripture and a h y m n .
You can tell Orphie was a Sunday school teacher. She is gentle and soft-spoken but her de meanor is proper-like. She sits erect and her words are ennunciated perfectly. She weaves scripture and verse into the conversation . . . “Trust and obey, There is no other way To be happy in Jesus, But to trust and obey.” and later . . . “Oh, if we had the faith of a mustard seed we could remove mountains.” and then, “Cheer up, my brother, And live in the sunshine You’ll understand it better, Bye and bye. “Even as I grow old and weak, I still have faith in Christ,” Orphie says. “He is my support. He is my leader and I go to him. “When I’m here at night sometimes by myself I have nobody to comfort me but the Lord. I feel his presence.” I ask Orphie about the children she taught over the 50 years. “My prayer was for my boys and girls, that I live until I got to see everyone of them come to know Christ.” Orphie’s daughter comes in with heart tablets. Orphie takes them with a glass of Gatorade. Ed pulls out his hymnal and he and Orphie begin to sing, Orphie by memory. I join, haltingly. J a n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
Ed and I look at the hymnal. Orphie looks ahead, singing. We sing Amazing Grace and What a Friend I Have in Jesus. Then, as our visit comes to a close, we join hands in prayer. Back on the road, now to Stringtown on the edge of Salyersville. “Since you’ve been here, have you found more differences or similarities among faiths?” I ask Ed. “Both,” he says. “I find a lot of the differences are the technical stuff. The things that do matter like loving one another, loving our God, growing to a deeper faith, journeying with God, that God is there for us no matter what, that God loves us and accepts us for who we are —I find that in these things, things that really matter, we are alike.” We stop at the home of Madge Cooper. Madge will be 90 in June. A few weeks before our visit today, Ed brought a group of temporary volunteers from Notre Dame to Madge’s house. Among other things, the college students took the time to plant 150 flower bulbs around the house. Tulips, crocuses, chrysanthemums. I tell Madge I’ll have to see the place again in spring. We talk of the animals Madge has had. Cats, dogs, stuff like that. But also cows, horses, pigs, chickens, albino chipmunks, a talking parrot, and even a squirrel monkey her late husband brought home after work one day. “He’d take any kind of pet that way that anyone would give him,” Madge says. “And here he came with that little old monkey, a little old squirrel monkey just the size of a squirrel . . . It had that big old long tail, awfullest big long tail. 7
Charlie meets us at a flat spot halfway down the rock. We talk awhile, kicking our feet against the stone to keep the circulation going. The air is nip py and twilight is coming on.
T h e trip to C h a r lie’s h ou se in clu d es crossin g a creek and scalin g a rock.
“We loved our parrot,” Madge says. “It was company.” Ed picks up an old, weathered hymnal off an end table. “Heavenly Sunlight,” a Church of Christ hymnal compiled by R.E. Winsett. I look for a copyright date but can’t find one. It was a very old book. Because Madge often cannot get to church, she holds a service of her own. “I read my Bible and I sing,” she says. Ed opens the hymnal and we all sing. Madge, like Orphie, sings from memory. Our last visit of the day takes us out to the Magoffin County line, to visit 87 year-old Charlie Perkins. Unlike the others we have visited, I have known Charlie for some time. When I first started helping with the small farms program in Magoffin County two years ago, I stopped by Charlie’s house. I stopped to see if he wanted to participate in the program, but also I stopped to find out just where the heck I was. The terrain was unfamiliar. The countryside around Charlie’s is less moun tainous than most of the rest of the county. Agriculture and livestock are more noticeable than coal mines. But you really don’t just stop by Charlie’s. You park your vehicle up on the paved road or down by the Licking River. First, you walk over a high hanging bridge, then cross a cornfield, and climb the rock where Charlie’s house sits. The first time I was there I was met in the cornfield by friendly dogs and scores of guinea chickens. This time, with Ed, the welcoming committee consists of four hungry pigs.
Charlie invites us down the lane, past hazelnut trees to see his pigs in the barn. Three, including a giant sow, are penned up inside. Four, the same four that greeted us, are rooting around somewhere up in the hills. Charlie gives a highpitched call. Nothing. He calls again. Then comes a tremendous thrashing of leaves and shearing of bare branches as the four hungry pigs come barrel ing down the mountain. I don’t tell Charlie, but I’m not very comfortable with all that hog flesh racing at me full tilt. I put my pad under my arm, hold my camera with two hands, and generally edge behind Charlie. But the pigs slow down and by the time they are upon us they are just walking around, snorting. Charlie directs us to a feed corn bin. We flick corn from the cob onto the ground for the pigs to eat. Every now and again I give one a whole ear to eat and then watch the others chase it around. It’s getting cold. We walk back toward the house on the rock. Like so many other people, Charlie is, in himself, a history book. He tells Ed and me of sources of income when he was a young man. “When I was your age, we used to put about 75 to 100 logs in a raft and put two big oar blades on it and run it down the river . . . it would take us about three or four days . . . We’d run it down the river and sell it there. They’d come in and measure it from that big mill. They’d go back to the office and get us a check.” “How’d you get back?” I ask. “We’d walk back,” Charlie says. “We’d peel the tan bark in the spring, too,” Charlie says. “We hauled the tan bark (from White Oaks) over to the railroad track over here at West Liberty. Yea, they took that and made ooze out of it and they’d tan hides and everything with it.” We reached the rock and begin to step up to the back side of the house. Halfway up we stop to study a ferret in a large cage. Charlie’s sons use the little creature when they go rabbit hunting. “Nothing can drive a rabbit from its hole faster than a ferret,” Charlie says. We climb on up to the back porch and then go on into the house to warm our feet by the coal stove. Darkness descends and we bid Charlie farewell. It has been a very good day. The Mountain Spirit
Letters I enjoy everything, particularly the wonderful reminisces of the older people and any of their oldtime recipes and the bits of history of the area. Anne Flood Kew Gardens, N Y
I enjoy reading The Mountain Spirit. I know it’s all true because I was raised in Clay County, and I can understand the mountain peo ple. I think the mountain people are the best people on earth. I just took a trip though the mountains of Kentucky in mid Oc tober to see the beautiful colors. I know God will bless you for the work you are doing for the moun tain people. My prayers and love are with you and all those good moun tain people. Woodrow Smith Franklin, Ohio I am writing regarding the editor’s note in my letter published in the September —October issue. Unless they moved it, Wayland is a small mining community in Floyd County. It is around Glo, Estill, Lackey and Garrett. My husband has relatives (Morris, Allen, Layne) around Wayland, Hippo and Dema. He is also a second cousin to Dr. Grady Stumbo, so we especially en joyed the issue that featured him and his work. I hope this clears up the error especially since my father-in-law had black lung disease that did not come from farming. LaDonna Allen Sedalia, MO Thanks fo r the reminder that there are two “Waylands” in CAP’S service area. The Lincoln County community is smaller than that in Floyd County, but since it’s closer to our administrative offices, it came to my mind first. —Ed. Ja n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
I thoroughly enjoy The Mountain Spirit. It keeps me in touch with what is happening at the Christian Appalachian Project. I am continually amazed at the ef ficiency of your project (or should I say “our” project) and the fervor of your volunteers. How I should love to visit the pro ject but it is such a long way from California to Kentucky.
I appreciate very much what I learn from The Mountain Spirit. I am helping to support a Kentucky woman and her family from another area of Eastern Kentucky, so it gives me an understanding of the dif ficulties she must cope with. It en courages me to continue trying to help her, though it is difficult finan cially for us. Mrs. Jack Gilstrap Branson, CO
May God continue to abundantly bless the project and all who are in volved in this work. A special blessing for Father Beiting and thanks be to God for his vision. Mattie Nell Marshall Redondo Beach, CA
To read The Mountain Spirit is to capture the essence of life in these mountains and to realize the tremendous opportunities for CAP. May your fine Christian endeavors continue to flourish and benefit many lives. Those of us in suppor tive roles are also blessed. Margaret Pickford Oakland, CA
I really commend all the people who are working with and for CAP. It’s wonderful to see how the work of one man, Rev. Beiting, who cared enough for the world around him reached out and touched the lives of those in need and met those needs —whatever they were. I’m just thankful I can help to meet those needs. CAP, you have reached many people, touched many lives and enriched and inspired hope for all concerned. Keep up the good work. Florence Beard Spring City, PA
The Mountain Spirit is well presented and I enjoy reading it. It has given me a much better understanding of the work perform ed by your organization. With you, I believe that “helping others to help themselves” is the best program. All the best wishes for continued success of present programs and pending projects. D.M. Hastings San Francisco, CA
I truly enjoy The Mountain Spirit, I especially like the articles on local people, how they live their daily lives. In today’s world of “hurry-up” and rush, rush, rush, it’s relaxing to sit down and read of the mountain people, how they take life one day at a time, slowly and with content. May God bless you in your work. Rhonda Luck Fredericksburg, VA
Letters to the editor are welcome.
They should not exceed 150 words in length, and we reserve the right to edit them fo r space. Address letters to The Mountain Spirit, Christian Appalachian Project, 322 Crab Orchard Road, Lancaster, Kentucky 40446. 9
Around the Project
by the CAP News Service
C A P V olun teers H elp W ith F lood ed C hurch In m id-October Kentucky’s flooding problems again hit close to home when the St. Paul Catholic Church in McKee, the county seat of Jackson County, was submerged in muddy water after a particularly heavy autumn rain. The sisters who work at the church noticed the water coming up quickly and went into the church to put up valuables and save paper work from the rising waters. When they finished their job, they found that the entrance to the church was flooded, so they went upstairs to the choir loft and watched as the water rose higher and higher, finally cresting at about pew-level on the first floor of the church. At around two in the morning some friends who had been trying to reach the sisters by phone realized what must have happened, and went to the church. They communicated with the sisters by flashlight, then formed a human chain to rescue the sisters from the flooded church. The next morning, CAP director of human development Ellen Burke co n ta c te d R oxanne S to rm s, manager of CAP’S outreach pro gram in Jackson County, and told her to make CAP’S resources available to help the church dig out of the mud after the water went down. “I thought that was great,” Rocky said, “but what was really neat was that CAP wasn’t necessary. By the time I got to the church there were all kinds of people there —Catholics and non-Catholics —cleaning the church and the other buildings. It was a wonderful demonstration of community strength.” Later in the week all of CAP’S outreach workers and a group of te m p o rary v o lu n teers from Michigan continued the effort. 10
T h e F lo y d C o u n ty h om e repair program is ju st o n e o f several C A P p rogram s that is b e in g p ro filed b y the C BS n ew s m ag a zin e 4 8 Hours.
The used clothing store at St. Paul’s sustained major damage, having been swept completely off its foundation. Recognizing the need for the store, especially during a time of crisis, the sisters re-opened in temporary quarters within a week of the flood. Although clothing was offered from the CAP warehouse, all the merchandise needed was donated by Jackson County residents.
48 Hours F ilm s in F loyd C ou n ty The CBS news magazine, 48 Hours is planning a report on life in Appalachia, and the difference bet ween life in a rural area and life in America’s cities to air in late December. Program producer Judy Tygard made the original contact, and crews filmed work by CAP’S home repair and at the Martin Youth Center for inclusion in the program.
“They’ve talked to Darryl Combs [CAP’s manager of home repair in Floyd County],” said Mike Sanders, director of Martin operations. “He’s had crews in Muddy Gut, and they’ve also been shooting at the free health clinic at Mud Creek.” Although the Mud Creek Clinic is not a CAP program, it is one of a cooperative of services that is of fered to Floyd County residents. The production crew has also in terviewed J. J. Miller, a youth center attendee who teaches a jazz dance class on Tuesday nights. Sandi Knight, a center staff member reports that a CBS crew member had stopped by the youth center on the day that 14-year-old J. J. learned that she would receive a scholarship to continue studying dance in the evenings at Prestonsburg Communi ty College and became interested in sharing more of J.J.’s story. “It’s been very interesting to watch CBS portraying life in Ap palachia through CAP’S programs,” Mike said. The Mountain Spirit
around the project . . . continued
“ W hat D o Y ou W ant? H o u sin g !” Twelve CAP workers joined 250 people from Kentucky for a nation wide march and rally calling for an increased federal commitment to the creation and maintenance of perma nent affordable housing for lowincome people on October 5, 1989. The volunteers sacrificed one of th e ir m ost p recio u s co m m odities—tim e—and drove to Washington on Friday night, joined their fellow marchers on Saturday and returned to Kentucky on Sun day. A group of Glenmary priests in Washington opened their home and provided a place for the volunteers to stay on Saturday night. Tom Shaper, manager of CAP’s outreach program in Rockcastle County, estimated that over 100,000 people m arched from th e Washington Monument to the White House singing and chanting “What do you want? Housing! When do you want it? Now!” According to Housing Now! (the Washington-based lobby group that sponsored the march and rally), there are approximately 3 million homeless people in the United States. A recent Congressionally funded study by the Neighborhood R einvestm ent C o rp o ra tio n estimates that by the end of this cen tury 19 million Americans will be homeless unless immediate action is taken to preserve and expand the supply of affordable housing. Federal spending for low income housing has been cut by 77 % or $25 billion per year since 1981, accor ding to the lobby group. Reverend Jesse Jackson was among several speakers that ad dressed the crowd. CAP volunteer Roxanne Storms termed his talk emotional and powerful. Rocky said that Reverend Jackson compared the plight of the homeless today J a n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
with the Christmas story. “He said that if Mary and Joseph had come along in 1989 they would have had to sleep on the street, that today they wouldn’t even get into a stable.” Rocky reported that several homeless people, including a little girl gave testimonials. “It was really exciting to be there, to be a part of it,” she said. Tom and Rocky come in contact practically daily with homeless peo ple in the counties in CAP’s service area. “We don’t see the same kinds of homelessness in rural areas that they see in cities. We see more inadaquate housing than we see peo ple who don’t have any place at all,” Tom said. Tom and Rocky are able to refer homeless people to Family Life Ser vices, a short term housing situation that is sponsored by CAP. “Or in abuse situations we can refer to one of the shelters,” Tom said. “But for people who are transient or possibly looking for a place to settle down, there’s just not a whole lot we can do, because the housing shortage in rural areas is just as severe as it is in the cities.”
In addition to Family Life Ser vices, CAP’s home repair program works towards providing safe hous ing, but only in rare instances is the program able to construct homes.
D esperately N eeded Primary Care Physician to serve in remote mission clinic in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky. The Mud Creek Clinic is nationally known for its service to the poor of Appalachia. Flexible Commitment: one month to one year (or more) Regular hours Com petitive salary (if desired) Contact: Days - Mr. Jim Stewart (606) 886-8546 Evenings - Dr. Steve Vogelsang (606) 297-2011
A n estim a ted 1 0 0 ,0 0 0 p eo p le, in c lu d in g a d o zen C A P w ork ers, m arched from th e W a sh in g to n M o n u m en t to th e C a p ito l in support o f an in crease in m o n ey for fed eral h o u sin g p rogram s.
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around the project . . . continued
E agle CDC H old s C arnival The Eagle Child Development Center in McCreary County held a carnival in the fall to raise money for new playground equipment. Even though only immediate and extended families of the students were invited, about 150 people at tended the event, which raised over $ 200 . Jean Barnes, manager of the newest of CAP’S six child develop ment centers said that one of the highlights of the carnival was the “Treasure Sale.” “It was like a yard sale,” Jean said. “Parents were great about donating clothes that they didn’t need anymore, and we got some things from the Attic. Everything was priced from 10* to 50". We got some cornhusk flowers from CAPrice, too, that were very popular.”
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A group of temporary volunteers from Michigan also helped with the carnival, making popcorn to sell for 10* per box, and pouring Cokes.
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Mail to: The Mountain Spirit, 322 Crab Orchard Road Lancaster, KY 40446.
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While the adults enjoyed the treasure sale, the children played games that had been planned by the staff of the child development center. They bobbed for prizes, played fish pond and threw rings around Coke bottles, all for small prizes like pencils, erasers, stickers, crayons and small rings. “All of the games cost one ticket, which were 25« each,” Jean said. She explained that tickets were given to families that she and her staff knew would have been hard pressed to play games.
OLD ADDRESS nam e
A carn iv a l at the E agle C h ild D ev e lo p m e n t C en ter in M cC reary C o u n ty featured ap ple b o b b in g , ring toss, fish p o n d — fu n for the w h ole fam ily!
Kay Drake, head teacher at the school donned clown garb and gave away balloons to all the children. “That was one of the funniest things. You could see all the kids standing back and looking at her, just this side of recognizing that it was Kay that they see every day in school. The only one that I knew for sure knew who she was was Leonard. He walked right up to her and said. ‘Hi, Kay.’ That was funny because Leonard is developmental^ delayed. I was pretty proud of him.”
Jean said that the carnival was a fun, sharing time for families, especially because it allowed families whose children are in different ses sions to meet, mingle and become re-acquainted.
P rev en tio n Program T o Start In F loyd C ou n ty Although several counties have CAP-sponsored teen centers, the program in Floyd County is a “Youth Center” rather than a teen center. When the center first opened several years ago, the program managers realized that the activities that they had planned were more suited to a younger group. At that time they decided to concentrate on 7 through 14 year-olds, and watch for an opportunity to work with older youth in the future. R ecently the o p p o rtu n ity presented itself, and plans are underway to begin a drop-out prevention program in Floyd Coun ty in the next couple of months. Rose Price, assistant director of Martin operations, reports that there is a program in place in one of the four high schools in the county. “We’d like to tie into the program at The Mountain Spirit
around the project . . . continued
Prestonsburg High School. It’s call ed ‘Touch Down,’ and I really like some of the things they’re doing. The funding is from the Ap palachian Regional Commission, and they have a teacher who works full time in the program, with tutor ing and providing incentives for students who are potential drop outs.” Rose said that although they realize that the program will need to include a certain amount of recrea tional activity, they plan to concen trate more on tutoring and self esteem. “We need more structure here than they have in the Youth Center. We don’t need to provide a ‘hang-out’,” Rose said. “We want to meet the needs of potential drop outs by teaching interview and job skills, and by encouraging kids to go back to school or to get a GED.” The building that formerly hous ed the Infant University will provide the “home base” for the drop-out prevention program, which will in clude two staff workers and a volunteer. With an increased em phasis on continuing and finishing education for young people, CAP hopes to make a positive impact on the need for a higher education level in Kentucky.
A lth ou gh C hristm as b asket m anager K e ith G ilb ertson w as replaced b y B ev P otter th is year, the p rogram d istrib u ted about 2 0 0 0 b ask ets o f gifts and food in eig h t co u n ties the w eek b efore C hristm as. Ja n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
H u n ger W orkshop H eld In L ex in g to n Terry Harmon, manager of CAP’s outreach programs, took an active part in planning a workshop sponsored by the Kentucky Task Force on Hunger, part of the Ken tucky Council of Churches, in November. The workshop, entitled “Working Together on Hunger in Kentucky,” distributed information to service providers and organizations about the specifics of who is hungry in Kentucky, why the situation exists and strategies that can be used to eliminate hunger.
W hat You D o n ’t K now About W ills Can H urt Your H eirs . . . Find Out W hy. Request Your Free Copy Of:
The program was held at the Beaumont Presbyterian Church in Lexington and was attended by around 100 people from twelve counties, including CAP outreach workers. Presentations included how to develop a food box program in small counties, and how to start a food pantry, Terry said. Resources development also touched on effec tive means of fund raising in small counties. Another presentation, given by a state legislator, took participants through the political process and gave information about the best ways to deal with legislators concer ning advocacy for the poor. “He gave an excellent presentation,” Terry said. “One of his points was that advocacy doesn’t always mean marching in the streets. He said that often writing letters is more effec tive and gave some other concrete suggestions about how to get one’s point across for the benefit of the people you’re working with.” Terry and the other CAP outreach workers who attended the workshop said that it was very beneficial and are working to imple ment several strategies that they discussed that they believe will be of benefit to the local area.
M u ch of w hat you know about wills m ay be m isinfor m a tio n th a t h a s b e e n floating aro u n d for years. If you think, for exam ple, that wills are prim arily for rich people, or the elderly, you m ay be the victim of a com m on m isconception. T h e helpful booklet offered here will explain how your will can save your heirs from costly delays an d confusion. Send for your copy today. C lip and M ail
C h ristian A p p alach ian Project 322 C ra b O rc h a rd R o ad L an c aster, K en tu ck y 40446 Please send w ith o u t ob lig atio n , y o u r booklet, “ 37 T h in g s People ‘K n o w ’ A b o u t W ills T h a t A re n ’t R eally S o .” N am e _________________________ A d d ress_________________________ C i t y ____________________________ S ta te ___________ Z ip ____________
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The C A P Closeup
Listening, Working: J u n e W id m a n story and photos by Ike Adams
W hile growing up in Northern California during the sixties and seventies, June Widman developed an interest in a far-away place called Appalachia largely, because it was in the news so much. When Lyndon Johnson declared “War on Poverty” this region of the country garnered much national attention because it was a major battle front. “There were many impoverished places around the country but I found that I was more aware of and drawn to the plight in Appalachia, particulary Eastern Kentucky, than any of the others. I spent a lot of time reading about the place and its people long before it occurred to me that I might one day be working there,” she mused during a recent in terview. June found out about CAP from a direct mail appeal in the seventies. “I looked at stacks of appeals for financial sup port that were coming to me through the mail from organizations across the country and around the world and decided that I could send a few dollars to one. I chose CAP,” she says, “because it served the people in a place that I felt familiar with even though I had scarcely been outside Califor nia.” 14
In the meantime, she completed a college degree in agriculture, married Gil Rosenberg and had a baby. By 1979, June and Gil were entertaining the notion of volunteering a year or so of service to an organization that might be able to put their technical training to good use. Gil also had a degree in agriculture and had specialized in soil science. June’s specialty was crop science. Since their areas of expertise complemented each other, it made sense to look for something they could do together. “Actually we were looking for adventure as much as anything else,” says June. “If we could also do something worthwhile and make that adventure pay for itself, Gil was all for it with the added condition that whatever organization we went to had to be willing to accept a small baby and a dog as part of the bargain.” June fired off a letter to Father Beiting, noting that CAP would have to cover travel expenses she and Gil would incur to interview as perspective volunteers. A few days later she spoke to Kathy Kluesener, CAP’S volunteer coordinator, to make arrangements for the visit and ask about travel reimbursement. “Father says to tell you to just pack up and The Mountain Spirit
come on,” Kathy told her. “You’re accepted.” Ear ly in the summer of 1980 they came to Kentucky. The Adventure had begun. Later June realized that the round trip travel ex pense between Kentucky and California amounted to roughly what Father Beiting intended to give them in subsistence money for a year. “For the first year and a half we lived in a small house at the edge of the woods in Preachersville, Kentucky,” says June. “It had no frills and no plumbing. We used an old hand pump to get our water from the well. Hot water for anything had to be heated on the stove. Our toilet was an outhouse. Our lifestyle was very much like that of the people we had come to serve.” “We were particularly interested in looking for alternatives to farming tobacco. The gasoline crunch was on and we were interested in growing grain crops that might supply alcohol for fuel. We started up a farmer’s market in Lincoln County and provided all kinds of assistance to folks who would grow vegetables. That was the beginning of CAP’s small farms program which is alive and well today and it seems that our early efforts have had some lasting value,” she modestly notes. In 1982 Gil became program manager of the small farms program. He left CAP’s employment in 1985 to continue his education. In the meantime, June volunteered another year of service and developed a keen interest in child development as daughter, Jessica, reached kindergarten age. In 1983 she was hired as manager of CAP’s Family Life Child Development Center. In 1986 she was
promoted to her current position, assistant director of human development and has supervisory responsibility for six child development centers, a home-based special education program, an elderly visitation program, and a summer camp. She has also become active in organizations that deal with early childhood education on the local, state and national levels. “At least three more years,” she says when asked what she sees in her future with CAP. “Then I may do something really different like stay at home with the children [Jessica, who is now 11, has a brother, Gregory, 5]. But I like what I’m doing right now and I believe that it is important. “I also hope that all of us in CAP can continue to get better at hearing what the people we serve are needing and asking for,” she says. “More than anything else, I suspect that people here want to make choices and there aren’t a lot of opportunities to do that. I am convinced that if the poverty situa tion here is going to change, then that change is go ing to have to be made by the people who live here. It’s going to have to come from within and its pro bably going to take a long, long time.” “By working with children at a very early age and teaching them that they do have choices and the responsibility to make them, we can begin to affect the future. By working with and listening to the elderly we can stay grounded in the past and maintain perspective,” says June Widman, “and I feel fortunate to be working in an organization that is trying to do just that.” CAP is fortunate too, to have June Widman.
J u n e ’s in terest in early ch ild h o o d ed u ca tio n b egan w h en h er d a u g h ter, J essica , w as fiv e years old . J a n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
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G randpa’s Funeral by Keith Morgan T h e sweat poured down my face. I had loosened my tie and I couldn’t take off my suit coat. Briars, cockleburs, and small bushes tore at my suit as sawbriars raked at my hands and face. Here I was, a 40-year-old research scientist, overweight, out of shape and out of breath, helping carry one of the heaviest coffins ever made up a steep Kentucky mountain. I had come to Hazard to attend the funeral of my grandfather, Sherman Campbell. I had thought only to attend —not be an active participant in the proceedings. My uncle, Rutherford B. Campbell of Hyden, was in charge of the funeral, however, and he had other ideas. He planned an old-time funeral, the kind we had in the 1930s, when I was a child. They had a wake and the next day three or four preachers conducted the service. Next came a funeral 16
procession to the family graveyard with the head of the family walking in front. When I met Rutherford during the visitation, he informed me that the four grandsons would be the pallbearers and would carry the coffin from the church. Nothing was said about this mountain. The family graveyard was on grandpa’s old farm across the river from the church. A log truck had been taken to the church at Forked Mouth to carry the coffin across the river. The service started only 15 minutes late. The Masonic service was impressive and the ministers spoke only for an hour. Then it was time to move the coffin out of the church and onto the log truck. The three other boys and I took our places at the sides of the coffin. We couldn’t lift it! “Uncle!” I called. “We’ve got troubles!” The Mountain Spirit
“What’s wrong, Keith?” “What did you do, Rutherford, buy the heaviest coffin in Kentucky?” “I’ll get some help,” he said. He called four men over and we all carried the casket out to the truck and fastened it down. After crossing the river at the ford, we unstrapped the coffin and set in on the porch of the old farmhouse. I asked Rutherford where the graveyard was located. He took me around the house and pointed to an old sled road leading up the mountain. “It’s up there about a mile. It’s six or seven hundred up to the point. The old trail is so overgrown that we’ll have to carry the casket. You can’t get a wagon or sled up it.” “Carry it up there! Uncle, we couldn’t carry it out of the church! We’ll never be able to carry it up this mountain!” “Now, Keith, I have three friends to help you boys carry the coffin.” I noticed that he wasn’t included in the carrying part. We gathered around the casket. I took my place at the right front; Rutherford’s son, “Biff,” who attended law school at the University of Kentucky, took the right rear; Michael, a pharmacist who owned the drug store Ja n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
in McKee and hadn’t lifted anything heavier than a pill bottle in years, was at the left front; my brother Bobby, an insurance underwriter in Cincinnati, was the left rear. The other men took places at the side and rear as we started out, with Uncle Rutherford leading the way. I hoped that I had picked the best side. I was on the downhill side and the old sled road had deteriorated and sloped off badly. There were briars, weeds, small trees, brush and all kinds of burrs on the old roadbed. Progress was slow at first as we got used to working together. Before we had gone 200 yards up the path, I was sweating. In full suits with ties and coats, we were very overdressed for this part. The briars grabbed at my coat and pants. Rocks tried to trip me and the slope of the hill kept pushing me off the path. I looked across the coffin at Mike and saw him slip and almost go under the coffin. A briar took me on the face and I quickly got my mind back on the job at hand. We finally stopped for a rest. As I stood there holding the coffin, I looked out over the valley towards Yerkes. The trees were in their fall colors and I could just see across the river to the railroad tunnel. Sweat was streaming down my face. As my heart started slowing down and I quit gasping for breath, Uncle Rutherford said, “Let’s go, boys. We’ve rested long enough.” 17
“I ’ll have a marker brought up in the spring, ” Uncle Rutherford said as we finished. ”
Slipping on the sloping ground and stumbling on the rocks, we struggled upward. We brushed away the briars that threatened our faces and scratched our hands. Years later, Michael said he had just thought of giving up and quitting. I, strangely enough, hadn’t thought about quitting. I was thinking that I was going to die on that mountain. When we stopped to rest I would balance my part of the coffin on my knee, clean the sweat from my eyes and look across the valley. Upwards toward Yerkes, the late autumn haze made the heat seem more oppressive. The slight breeze gave a little relief. The October sun just beat down as we moved slowly up the mountain. Uncle Rutherford walked at the head of the procession, a piece of wood serving as a walking stick. We didn’t have any help. The coffin just got heavier and heavier.
I could speak without wheezing. “Do we have to dig the grave?” I gasped. “I don’t see the graveyard?” “Why of course not, Keith. The old graveyard is back there in the pines,” he said, pointing with the stick. “You mean we’re not there yet?” Bob said. “I don’t think that I can go another step.” “It’s all level back through the pines. Easy walking, just a quarter mile back along the ridge.” “Yes, but you aren’t carrying this coffin,” Bob answered. “Let’s go boys. You made it this far and a little more won’t hurt you.”
“Dad, if it had been two-foot higher I wouldn’t have made it,” Biff said.
We moved, and while the briars and burrs were gone, they were replaced with gnats and bugs. Under the pines the air was still, the grass was slick under foot and offered almost no traction. Slipping, sliding and almost dropping the coffin, we arrived at the grave site. With a sigh of relief, we moved the casket onto the twoby-fours that were laid across the grave.
Rutherford laughed. “Son, it’s not that bad. I’m a lot older than you boys and I haven’t even broken out in a sweat.” I waited a moment to get my breath steady so
As we stood looking at each other across the grave, Bob spoke. “Remember how Grandpa was always working in the garden in his white shirt? He’d come home from the store, take off
After what seemed like a year, my uncle said, “Well, boys, you can take a breath. We’ve made it to the top.”
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The Mountain Spirit
his tie and go out in the garden and work. Look at us now.” Uncle had been busy getting the ropes under the coffin while we were talking and resting. He put Bob and me together at the head of the coffin with Biff and Mike at the foot. “Ready boys? Lift up on the ropes and we’ll scoot the boards out.” With a little help, we lifted and the men slid out the boards. With jerks and some slipping, we finally lowered the coffin to the bottom. Then Bob dropped his rope and I pulled it from under the casket as Mike and Biff did the same. Then Rutherford said, “Keith, you’re the oldest; I think you should put in the first shovelful of dirt before you all fill in the grave.” I looked at him in utter amazement. “You’re kidding! WE carried the coffin up this mountain, almost had heart attacks, then lowered Grandpa into the grave, and now we’re supposed to fill in the grave?” Uncle Rutherford just handed me a shovel. I pushed the shovel into the dirt, lifted, then tipped the dirt into the grave. The dirt sounded very loud as it landed on the coffin. I handed the shovel to Biff and he put in his shovelful, then handed the shovel across the grave to Mike. He put in his and then Bobby. The shovel came J a n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
back to me and I started filling in the grave. Uncle handed Biff a shovel and he also started. In the quiet, the noise was loud but not loud enough to cover the snickers the gravediggers made at the poor job of shoveling we were doing. After a short time we changed places. As we stood there catching our breath, Biff said, “There were a couple of times coming up the mountain I didn’t think I was going to make it. But you know, after my muscles quit aching, I just might be glad I was part of this.” It didn’t take long to fill and mound the grave. “I’ll have a marker brought up in the spring,” Uncle Rutherford said as we finished. We left the old graveyard and walked across the glade to the point. I stood there as the others passed. I looked out over the valley and the river far below. There was haze and a stillness over the place. “Glad that you did the job?” Uncle Rutherford was standing there. “Yes,” I answered. “That was quite an experience.” We stood together for a moment and then, as we started down, I told Uncle Rutherford, “If you want to be buried up here and ask me to help, I’ll let that coffin float down the river and the people in the next county can bury you!” 19
Appalachian A rts and Culture
Bitter Creek Breakdow n: A Review by Gary Eldridge
A p palach ian S tan d off Y ou told me not to
i
Clog Shoot Pick the banjo D rink m oonshine Fight Or H an d le copperheads.
$ ^ ^ ^ i ^
I told you not to M eddle P reach Ju d g e Or T ry to fix w hat a in ’t broke. Y ou d id n ’t listen to me A ny m ore th an I Listened to you. I d o n ’t know who won But I ’m still here. I
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Come Home by Garry Barker, won the 1985 Kentucky State Poetry Society Award. It is one of over a dozen poems included in a collection entitl ed Bitter Creek Breakdown, recently released by Hollytree Press. Ancient mountains Weathered by centuries Dark and bloody land Which forever binds us To a deep and unshakable heritage To a deep-rooted faith Which calls us always To come home Garry Barker is better known as a writer of short stories which have appeared along with ar ticles, essays, reviews, and poetry in well over a hundred different journals, newspapers, and an thologies, including The Mountain Spirit and have been collected in three books from Kentucke Im prints. Garry says, in the forward, “I am not a poet. If you choose to read further, you’ll find some very distilled short stories, some rural humor, and some very personal emotions, all presented loosely as verse.” I first discovered Garry Barker with his collec tion of fiction and essays entitled Mountain Passages which was about the time he was undergoing some style changes such as using less hard-to-read mountain dialect and dropping the final “g”, along with becoming less of a tall tale teller. The Mountain Spirit
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P lace N am es I was raised at G im let, B luebank, P o p lar Plains, M udsock, and Bald H ill. O n the w aters of Sinking C reek, U p p er T y g art, C aney, Flem ing, A nd Fox. At G o d d ard , T ilto n , A nd H illsboro I learned to read an d w rite. I played th ird base At P lu m m e r’s L anding, M u se ’s M ills, Locust, Sharkey, A nd Sunset. T h ro u g h Soldier, H ogtow n, B eartow n, A nd Stark W e drove on S unday m orning. So w hen they ask W here are you from? I say G o d ’s country: N obody b u t H im and us knows how to get there and get back.
behind the ‘Elsie Watt’s’ character I use so often.” At another time, in another forward, in another book, Garry remarked, “My mother is the model for the enduring ‘Elsie Watts’ character, and the stories mix fact and fiction so freely that even I sometimes forget which is which. But my parents haven’t yet filed a lawsuit, and they still let me come home for supper.” Bitter Creek Breakdown is Garry Barker come home. Just himself. With mostly fact and not too much fiction; having fun or venting his frustra tions, as he says, and “. . . trying to find new ways to express some of my old ideas.” Garry’s poems, like his short stories, hum with an authenticity of regionalism at its finest. Lee Smith has said, “Garry Barker’s stories linger in your mind like your own memories . . . —these folks will stay a while, too.” These poems will linger in your mind and stay a while, too. “Barker works from human ex periences, not some literary notion of what Ap palachia should be,” says Jim Wayne Miller. With his flawless Appalachian diction and keen eye and ear for detail, the honesty of Garry Barker’s writing and his familiarity with his sub ject are quietly prayed in this small collection that poignantly poetizes the very real person he is and the personage he represents. As he says in the first few lines of the last poem in the collection: I am Jesse Stuart Singing behind the plow And Tom T. Hall Singing behind the microphone. Jean Ritchie’s black waters; Jim Wayne Miller’s “Brian”: The elegant simple sermon of James Still. —Song of the Kentucky Hills And he could easily have written:
His yarn-spinning novel Copperhead Summer was published in 1985, the same year he won the Catholic Press Association “Best Short Story” award. I first met Garry Barker in the summer of 1989 when he was reading from his book All Night Dog at Berea College, which he dedicated “To Loval Cox Barker, my mother, the very real person J a n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
I am all these and much, much more, For I have plowed the fields, And I have sung the songs, And I have Come Home.
Bitter Creek Breakdown. Poems by Garry Barker, can be ordered from Hollytree Press, 110 Holly Street, Berea, Kentucky 40403. 21
Random Thoughts Deborah Whatley, a volunteer in the elderly program in Rockcastle County, recently wrote this letter to the elderly people she visits. When I was sitting in prayers this morning I was thinking many things. I was so grateful to be alive and experiencing the morning, knowing that in a few short hours I would be sharing a new day full of communication and sharing with you. I smiled. About an hour later, I was sitting in my office reviewing your files and paperwork and my thoughts were interrupted by the telephone, I heard you on the other end —you greeted me with the sincerity that only age can give, and asked me “how are you?”—I was so glad to hear your optimistic plans for the day —full of gardening, quilting, cleaning and cooking. The simple, yet determined way you plan your activities is so motivating, especially when the smallest tasks can sometimes be taxing. I was so glad that you called to just say “Hello!’ —I love talking with you, especially since sometimes I don’t get to visit as much as I would like —know that you are daily in my prayers. Soon the phone rang again, only this time I detect loneliness and isolation. I heard gratitude in your voice when you realized that I was even there to just answer the phone. I saw your face in my mind, and mentally tried to give you a reassur ing hug over the phone —so many times when I talk or visit with you I would like nothing more than to take away all of your fears and hurts—but I realize that I can’t do that for you. I can, however, just be there. It’s hard to make society sometimes understand just how much love and experience you have to share, and how vulnerable you really are. The wordy insurance claims that I try to somehow ex plain, the anxiety over another cut in your medical coverage, the gen tle, yet agonizing letting-go of a lov ed one —all of these are experiences 22
D eb o ra h W h a tley v isits w ith on e o f h er R ock castle C o u n ty frien d s.
that you have to go through yourself. Just like a young adult, you sometimes hurt. Being elderly doesn’t somehow give you a cor nerstone on im m unity. Yet, somehow, you get by. Experience has taught you much, and I drink in the peace that I see so often in your eyes. Your pace may seem to some to have slowed down —no longer do you have to be concerned about 9 to 5, children and car payments —I, though, see your pace toward im portant things as having speeded up. You somehow realize that God has given you old age to enjoy His crea tions—you have so often taught me how to slow down and see the beau ty in a flower, the importance of a good garden, and the indescribable treasure that one holds in a friend. You’re lucky, I think. Most of us that aren’t elderly often miss these o p p o rtu n ities—thank you for reminding me of them so frequent ly. Your house smells wonder ful—you realize the importance of a good breakfast, and although your means are sometimes scarce —you always offer me the best of what you have. Have I ever told you how much I enjoy your uninhibited hugs and warm hand that will so easily pick mine up —though the thin skin I can feel your love of life and gratitude for a visit —thank you for making me feel so welcome. My day was full of visiting with you —although your zest for living
remains constant, your personalities and situations vary so. I am happy for the diversity. On my way home, I found myself talking to God, so thankful for the day; your smiles, laughter, tears and hugs have touched me in a special way. I also shared with God how unfair the “system” can sometimes be —how isolated and alone you feel because not everyone understands your financial strains. I asked Him to give me the same unmoving faith in humanity that He has given you. You, who are so affected, never stop believing that God will always provide for your needs, even when the time between medical bills seems to only get shorter. I thank God for your ability to feel good about a job well done and your willingness to share your work with me. Who am I to question the insignificance of canning fruit or weeding a garden when it brings you so much pleasure? In closing, I want you to know how blessed I feel in being able to get to know you. Although I came here as a volunteer to serve, I sometimes feel that I gain much more from you then I could possibly give. You daily reassure me that serenity is only a prayer away. Your relationship with God is so very uplifing. All of you, despite situa tions and circumstances, are a gift. Thank you. And, as I continue to think on these thoughts, my smile remains. I love you. The Mountain Spirit
Gabriel
A Christian Way of Life b y Gary Eldridge
I n the Gospel of Saint Luke, chapter 24, there is a short story about Jesus that takes place after the resurrection. Jesus is on the road to Emmaus when he meets two of his disciples that do not recognize him. When he stops them to ask what is happening and what all the commotion is about, they think he must be kidding them. Surely he is the only person in all of Jerusalem that does not know what happened over the weekend. They proceed to tell the story of the crucifixion and how the disciples felt their hopes for the savior dashed when Jesus was crucified.
P eg g y P atrick . J a n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
They travel together to the town of Emmaus and when they arrive, they ask Jesus to eat with them. When he accepts, they ask him if he will break the bread. To the disciples, this is a very 23
“There wasn’t much here when I first arrived. This particular building was here but nothing else was done. The carpeting wasn’t layed and the fur niture hadn’t been purchased. So I really worked at it from the ground up. “Emmaus, as we named the retirement center, was really Father Beiting’s idea. He decided it was something the community needed after listening to several of the volunteers in the elderly program after they had been out working in the communi ty. The volunteers always had stories to tell how the elderly needed help with housing, the poor conditions they found and the extreme poverty.” There were many nutritional needs they felt the elderly weren’t getting. And so out of listening to the volunteers express these concerns, Father Beiting developed the concept of a place for the elderly who needed this type of assistance, to come together and live in a community that would be a transition phase or a step before entering a nursing home or a private residential program. The idea was to have a place where the elderly in the county could come when they were not able to be on their own for one reason or another.
T h e P atrick fam ily: P eg g y , h er h u sb a n d , G u y, and th eir d au gh ters, A nn a and G in a.
sacred custom. When Jesus breaks the bread, the two disciples recognize who he is. Peggy Patrick, program manager of The Em maus Christian Life Center, a residential program for the elderly in Berea, relates this story with the enthusiasm and animation of an engrossed storyteller as she sits in the living room section of the Emmaus Center. The room is tastefully decorated and furnished with comfortable fur niture, a piano, attractive paintings on the walls. Several woodcrafted items made by residents, sit around the room. “We are always sort of on the road to learning who Jesus is and what he means in our lives. I think we should be able to recognize him in each other if we are really living in a Christian com munity.”
“As we structured the program in terms of needs for the residents, we hired an RN for the sole purpose of taking blood pressure and helping them with a diet that would contribute to weight control,” Peggy said. “Good nutrition for the
It is com m on to see E m m aus resid en ts sittin g o n the p orch o u tsid e th e ir room s, en jo y in g th e fresh air. L eft, P eg g y chats w ith S ally Isaacs, J im A n g lin and W illie H e n d er so n . B elo w , G race A m brose and V erda Shearer.
. . . we should be able to recognize Him in each other if we are really living in a Christian community.
residents has always been one of our major goals. The nurse works with our staff and residents on how to best prepare food, counsel on eating habits, and teach classes in general health and special topics such as diabetes.” A lady comes up to ask Peggy about the prayer service. As they talk, concern and respect is evi dent between the two of them and in their conver sation. Peggy taJks proudly of the lady who has been a resident at the center since it first opened. A beautiful woman, well-groomed and im maculate in her dress, she is taking classes at Berea College and is active in many of the center pro jects. After Peggy explains some of the lady’s background, she says that the program is at capacity now. They can handle 16 residents and have a waiting list. “There is such a need for this type of residential facility,” she says. “People come here from all parts of Kentucky. Many of them hear about the program from civic organizations and various community groups; from friends, church members, staff members of the local h o sp ita l and social service organizations.” A person must be sixty-two years old to be ad mitted as a resident; be able to take care of their personal needs such as medication and getting to the dining room on their own. Peggy and her staff screen people to make sure there is a need and they also believe there are certain characteristics people must have for this type of living. The ability to get along with other people is very important.
Ja n u a ry -F e b ru a ry 1990
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Gabriel
Each resident has his or her own private room with a bathroom. This way, each person can have privacy as well as companionship when they want it. Staff members are busily preparing the lunch in the kitchen. Children from a neighboring program are having a mid-morning snack in the dining room. Peggy’s husband has stopped in for a few minutes and is talking with their two children about an art project they have just completed in a summer program. There is a warm, countrycasual exuberance that permeates the center and provides a sort of happy hum in the background to the various activities taking place. The spiritual aspect is evident as Peggy talks about the residents and the planned activities of the center.
Gabriel
“I think the feeling one gets here comes from the specialness of the residents and the respect we all have for each other. We help nurture that at mosphere through prayer. We pay special atten tion to the holidays from the spiritual aspect. Each resident has his or her own Bible. You can see them reading every day. There is a strong feeling of community that is like family support. They at tend to each other. They care for each other. They love each other. “I think CAP feels its responsiblity toward the elderly. I think Father Beiting is very proud of this particular dream that came into a reality here in Berea. I know the residents are very proud of him and are grateful for the opportunities they have in living and sharing together in the program. I’ve seen the program grown to what it is today. I’ve seen residents grow, sort of come alive and really contribute and become part of the community. I’ve come to know them. To love them.
Eldridge
“I think of Emmaus when I see people engaged in activities of learning and living and working and playing together. The recognition of Jesus and the breaking of bread seems to me to be a wonderful story that is symbolic of all that is possible at Emmaus.”
T h e E m m aus C h ristian L ife C en ter p rov id es affordable h o u sin g in a carin g C h ristian co m m u n ity for eld erly p eo p le w h o can no lo n g er, or ch oose not to liv e on th e ir o w n . T o p to b ottom : R uth B an ta w a its for h er rid e to the sen ior c itiz e n s’ cen ter in Berea; D ella B ow m an is som etim es seen p u sh in g h er w h eelch a ir in stead o f sittin g in it; m anager P eg g y P a trick shares a sm ile w ith resid en t E rn ie G add.
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The Mountain Spirit
Through our Family Sponsorship you can make a significant difference in the life of a family like this one! R eaders of The Mountain Spirit often ask “ how can I m ake a difference in the face of the problem s you have in A p p alach ia?” W e are rem inded of an old song th at goes: “One m an’s voice can’t make a mountain ring; but if two and two and fifty make a million, w e’ll see that day come ’round. . O u r Fam ily Sponsorship p ro g ram is like th at. A small group of sponsors unites behind each fam ily and by co n trib u tin g $20.00 a m o n th apiece, helps the fam ily stand on its ow n. By w orking w ith individual families, eventually we will see a change in A ppalachia. But we need yo u r help. W o n ’t you help sponsor a family until they can help them selves? Send the coupon on this page in the envelope in the fold of the m agazine, and w e’ll send you inform ation, including a picture, about a family here in the m o u n tain s who needs you r help.
□ Enclosed is a check for $20 for m y first m o n th ’s sponsorship of an A ppalachian family. Please send m e a fam ily pho to g rap h , a profile, and com plete inform ation. □ I am interested in becom ing a Fam ily Sponsor. Please send m e m ore inform ation. N a m e _______________________________________________________________________________ A d d re s s _____________________________________________________________________________ C ity ______________________ State ______________________ Zip ______________________ JF 90
N O N -P R O F IT O R G A N IZ A T IO N U .S . P O S T A G E P A ID Christian Appalachian Project
C H R IS T IA N A P P A L A C H IA N P R O J E C T 322 CRAB ORCHARD ROAD LANCASTER, KY 40446 The Mountain Spirit
^ A ddress C o rrec tio n R e q u ested