You forget....

In the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky
That's the place where I traced my bloodline
And it's there I read on a hillside gravestone
"You'll never leave Harlan alive"
Oh my grandfather's dad crossed the Cumberland Mountains
Where he took a pretty girl to be his bride
Said "Won't you walk with me out the mouth of this holler
Or we'll never leave Harlan alive"
Where the sun comes up about ten in the mornin'
And the sun goes down about three in the day
And you'll fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin'
And you spend your life just thinkin' of how to get away
No one ever knew there was coal in them mountains
Till a man from the northeast arrived
Waving hundred dollar bills
Said "I'll pay you for your minerals"
But he never left Harlan alive
Grandma sold out cheap and they moved out west of Pineville
To a farm where Big Richland River winds
And I bet they danced them a jig
And they laughed and sang a new song
"Who said we'd never leave Harlan alive"
But the times got hard and tobacco wasn't selling
And old grandad knew what he'd do to survive
He went and dug for Harlan coal
And sent the money back to grandma
But he never left Harlan alive
Where the sun comes up about ten in the mornin'
And the sun goes down about three in the day
And you'll fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin'
And you spend your life diggin' coal
from the bottom of your grave...

I grew up in a little town called Corbin, 65 miles West of the Harlan they talk about in this song. We didn't have coal mines, though. What we had was a railroad; but if you travelled past the railroad yard at any given time of the day, you'd bet that you were looking at a bunch of coal miners. They looked as dirty and tired as you'd imagine someone crawling from the pits of the mines would.

It's funny how you never appreciate the place you grow up until you're grown up. You never relish in those tiny little things that make a place such a part of you that ages later you find yourself still telling tales about it.

You never remember the old wringer washer your mom used until you're doing laundry in your new Whirlpool 20 years later.
You never remember the old coalstove that kept you so warm when you were 8 until you're toasty warm in your own house at age 24.
You never remember bathing in a tub in the kitchin until you're in your shower 18 years later getting ready for work.
You almost forget the twang in your Father's voice when he sang Hank Williams until So Lonesome I Could Cry comes over your car stereo and you're left wishing for someone that got taken from you way too early.

Our house sat on a gravel road and I NEVER wore shoes from the time I was small to the time I left home. My feet were so hard and calloused from days spent outside walking....

The first time I came back from College for a weekend I took my shoes off, anxious for my feet to play in the dirt after 6 months away. In that short 6 months, the callouses on my feet had softened and it hurt to walk that road I had walked a hundred times growing up.

It was at that moment I knew I had left that little southern town forever...

and it made me cry.