WV Writing Conference: Part 3

I left after my second session to go to a cookout at Derek's. It was comforting to be with him as he finished packing for Iraq, played with the kids and finalized all the details of his deployment. It was a good evening, lots of conversation, the kids happy and playing hard, a few neighbors stopping by. We left around 8pm so he could spend the rest of the evening with his children and his girlfriend, and returned to the conference.

I'd missed the awards banquet to go to Derek's, so it was a pleasant surprise to be greeted with congratulations on my winning entries. No one was sure exactly what I'd won, but that my name had been called several times. We listened to Pops Walker's blues and then moseyed over to the bonfire.

That's when the real fun started. As people gathered, conversations and music began to fill the night air. Andrea Parkins, Suzette Bradshaw and I began comparing the ballads we knew and how our versions differed. I've never had the opportunity to do that with other singers before, and it was exciting. We sang, talked, held Andrea's daughter til she slept, and sank into the world of ballads. What complete pleasure.

A man named Richard Walker had come to the conference all the way from California to learn more about Appalachian fiddle tradtions, stories and folklore. His questions led to some in-depth discussions of who we are, what we believe and how the mountains have shaped our lives. I wish I had a tape of that conversation. I think it was one of the most interesting I have ever witnessed. We take a lot of things for granted; the whys of who we are don't usually come up in everyday conversation.

One point was abundantly clear. We are of these mountains; they shape us, drive us, abide in us. One lady asked, "How do people live in places where they don't have this connection to the place they live?" I don't have any idea how they do it. I can't imagine living in a place I did not feel deeply connected to.

When we got in the car to return home, I was stunned to find it was 3am. Where had the time gone? We drove home through early morning fog, the moon setting in the west, and were asleep by 4am.

Sunday morning we were up and out by 9am, back to the conference to pick up my materials and my awards. (I learned that I'd won a second, a third and two honorable mentions). Then it was off to the airport to see my son off to Iraq, and drive home to a quiet house, filled with a mix of emotions I was too tired to sort out.