My First Thanksgiving in the Mountains

 When I took the job at Mountain Empire Community College in 1982, I was newly-divorced, after 16 years of marriage and living on my own for the first time in a culture very different from what I had experienced in the past.  The first years were more difficult, but I found the people both at the college and in the community to be very kind--although they weren't quite sure what to make of me.

One of the people I came to know was Raymond, a student who was going through some life transition issues also.  I met him when I happened to hear someone playing an old piano that was in the hallway of Dalton-Cantrell Hall.  The music was wonderful, mostly lively gospel songs--but played with great skill and joy--although he played completely by ear, with no formal training.  I love music, so stopped to listen and talk to him.  As it turned out, he really needed a work study job and asked if I would be willing to hire him.  I didn't really need a work study, but it was traditional for the college profs to hire students who needed jobs in order to go to college, even if they didn't have much for them to do.  Like most of the other students at the college, he was surviving on the Pell Grant and work study wages, living at home with his parents.  

Raymond's family lived in the Rye Cove/Clinchport area, which was south of the college.  He didn't have a car, so in order to get to school, he would catch a ride to the main highway with a relative who was going south to work in Kingsport. Then, Raymond would hitchhike the 20 miles north to the college.  He always had to leave early, because he was never sure when someone would pick up a lone male hitchhiker by the side of the road.  

When Thanksgiving time came around, Raymond found out that I had no family in the area and wasn't going anywhere for the holiday.  Family is incredibly important to mountain people, so he asked his family if he could invite me to join them.  They kindly accepted, so I was able to have a wonderful holiday with them.

The meal was at his grandmother's house, which was a small, neat bungalow next to the highway, across from the Clinch River.  If I remember the story correctly, Raymond's late grandfather had farmed the bottom land on the other side of the river.  He had to row a boat over the river every day to work the farm. The house didn't have a dining room, so we were all around a table in the cozy kitchen. I don't remember how many people were there, but I'd say about 10--all family except for me.  

We had a delicious, traditional Thanksgiving meal; then afterwards, all went to the living room, where I encountered another tradition in the family--they all played Bible trivia.  Raymond's father was a preacher at a small church he had started himself.  Unlike my father, who had gone to seminary, he had been "called" to preach, and was totally self-taught.  I could tell that the trivia game was a sort of test for me, to see if I knew the Bible as well as they did.  They were pretty amazed that I could answer a lot of the questions, so they decided I was OK for Raymond to work for, I guess.  I'm not sure I lived up to their expectations, since I supported Raymond in doing what he wanted to do with his life.  But that is another story, and not one for this blog.

Raymond worked for me that school year; then frankly, I don't remember what happened to him.  I hope that he is well and living a good life.  I do know that I remember his kindness and the kindness of his family with great gratitude.