Mountain Mama

 I tried writing about the place I’m from, my hometown, on this website; it was such a meager description it was undeserving of publication. Yeah, I deleted it. I hope I can write a better tribute.

Like millions of others, im not from Florida (big surprise). I hail from El Norte (the north. Duh). I was born in Maryland, in Essex to be exact, but I wasn’t raised there. My mother moved us to the small town of Luray in Virginia (in 1998 I think). And it was a really good thing, because it was a great place to grow up. Not to mention spectacular in beauty. You know how John Denver sings about country roads? He’s talking about the Shenandoah valley. It’s my home. 

Luray is settled in the valley of the blue ridge mountains, hence the Shenandoah valley. It’s the county seat, of page county, but that’s not what makes it unique. It’s home of the famous Luray Caverns. A lot of people I mention that to have no idea what I’m talking about. That’s surprising, because it’s world renowned. On a summer day the parking lot is packed with people going to see this cave. It’s a wonder all its own. I’ve been down there several times, amazed every time. It is nice on a summer day because the cave is really cool— literally 50 degrees. It’s a natural wonder. 

And that’s probably the most amazing thing about the town. There’s a historic downtown, like in most places. Old buildings, businesses that have thrived for years, but a bunch of new yuppy businesses constantly opening. The movie theatre is dated. There was a mic or Mack where my mom used to get macaroni salad. There was a pawn shop that had a lunch counter. The Appalachian bicycle shop was there for a long time (I’m racking my brain now). Ice cream shops came and went. My brother used to get his hair cut at a pool hall. Mamas Treasures has been there forever; she sold antiques and jewelery. Bank Street Books was a staple. I’m sure I could think of more…oh there was a duck pin bowling alley. A lot of birthday parties there. And the thrift store page one goes back at least forty years. 

What was it like to grow up in a small town like that? Well, you have to become a Baptist. You gotta go to a small school out in the country, smelling cow manure on the bus ride. You gotta hit the flea markets, cause you just don’t know what you’ll find. And if it’s 50 cent you gotta have it. You gotta entertain yourself, cause it’s just church and school for you. You might want to take up walking. If you’re lucky you get to go to vacation bible school, and if you’re really lucky you make it to church camp. And you have to go fishing. But if you like big game you’ll want to go hunting (funny, never did get into that). If you catch something big you gotta put it on your wall. Definitely. And you might want to enter a pie in the county fair…

I make it sound like country living…well it was. We lived in a small trailer park outside of town on highway 211. Thirty minutes from the entrance to the SNP (Shenandoah national park). We lived beside a farmers field; they baled hay in the spring. There was large patches of woods all around. We used to take walks down kimball road, which had cows and a cute little fishing pond. There actually was a flea market down the road, which we hiked to, which a long time ago served beans and cornbread and a small group of old men gathered to play guitar. We attended church at Mt Carmel Regular Baptist Church, cause there was a church van that went there, but years later we just went to Beahms Chapel Independent across the street. My mom still attends church there and just went to a church picnic. 

Virginia is green and beautiful and boasts rolling hills, not to mention the mountains. Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze. I love being from there, and I will go back every chance I get.