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“When I’m
home, I feel the possibilities.”
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When I was growing up in Big Stone Gap,
Va., I thought the mountains were filled with magic. My
family emigrated from northeastern Pennsylvania in 1968,
and it was if we had moved to a whole new world as we crossed
the border of Virginia into the Shenandoah Valley, past
the Natural Bridge, into the Blue Ridge mountains of southwest
Virginia.
The rich heritage of the Scots, the Irish, the Native Americans,
the African Americans, the mighty Melungeons were held in
high esteem by my family. We were Italian, and it seemed,
at first, we might be the only ones. Then, my father started
doing a little visiting and digging and he found more than
a few “Eye-talians.”
There was the Caruso family in nearby Norton, who ran a
groceria; there were families here and there who knew of
a great grandfather who came over to work in the coal mines,
married a lovely local girl, and stayed. Some were forced
to change or shorten their Italian names to fit in; but
my father soon found a vein of pride about those who shared
our Italian heritage.
We had much in common with the mountain people – similar
stories of hardship and survival, and ultimately triumph.
My grandfather Carlo Bonicelli (my mother’s father)
found work in the iron ore mines of Minnesota, and then
saved to open his own shop as a shoemaker.
We shared a work ethic and a desire to take
care of our families. We shared a love of music, theater
and crafts. Local women made gorgeous quilts, in patterns
handed down for generations, which we appreciated as both
of our grandmothers were seamstresses.
I was educated in the public school system in Wise County.
We were taught Virginia history beginning in fourth grade.
We revered our teachers and librarians.
As idyllic as my growing up years were, they weren’t
perfect. I learned first hand the desperation of poverty
and the physical toll that manual labor takes on workers.
I observed how nature, in its beauty, could also cause deep
terror and loss when the spring floods came. I experienced
the life of an outsider, which gave me a window to the world
and an inner strength that helps me when I travel somewhere
new. I learned there is no such thing as a stranger. Once
you share your stories, it makes way for friendship and
common ground.
My hopes for southwest Virginia are not that different from
my father’s. He came to southwest Virginia when he
was a 33-year-old man with seven children. He wanted to
make a life, and provide jobs where work was needed.
We all know how that story turns out: Most manufacturing
is done overseas, so places like Big Stone Gap have to work
harder to attract industry. This loss takes a toll, particularly
on the young, who leave to find work elsewhere.
From the outside, there is a vein of hopelessness, but when
I’m home, I feel the possibilities. The Appalachians
are the American rainforest, rich with history, beauty and
nature at its most elegant. I hope that my home becomes
a place for friendly visitors, who tour through and are
awestruck, just as I was, when I first saw the mountains.
You can breathe when you’re home. That’s a priceless
gift in the age we live in, where information travels at
the speed of sound.
Trigiani’s most recent Big Stone Gap novel, “Home
to Big Stone Gap,” is now out in paperback. Her new
novel, “Bella Rosa,” the first in a series,
will be released in 2008.
CLICK HERE FOR THE ARCHIVE OF THE
MOUNTAINS: MY HOPES |
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