Country Roads
Almost heaven, West Virginia
Blue ridge mountains, Shenandoah river
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze
Chorus: Country roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
All my mem'ries, gather 'round her
Miner's lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye
Chorus
I hear her voice, in the mornin' hours she calls to me
The radio reminds me of my home far a-way
And drivin' down the road I get a feelin'
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday
Chorus
Blue ridge mountains, Shenandoah river
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze
Chorus: Country roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
All my mem'ries, gather 'round her
Miner's lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye
Chorus
I hear her voice, in the mornin' hours she calls to me
The radio reminds me of my home far a-way
And drivin' down the road I get a feelin'
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday
Chorus
And yes, I know that it's probably bad karma to quote a John Denver song right before flying across the country. Ah well...
When I was a kid, this song was an "anthem" of mine... I can remember singing it at the top of my lungs with the windows down driving across southern Ohio into Gallipolis, across the Ohio, into the West Virginia hills (where we soon rolled up the windows- pig farms and coal burning power stations will do that), through Charleston (Charles town. Cool.) , up Gauley mountain to Fayette County and Oak Hill WVa.
This song brought me comfort and a sense of rootedness- strangely important to a pastor's son who moved to five different places before his seventh birthday. I always knew that somehow, things were OK in WVa. Maybe that's why I spent parts of my childhood summers there, or why I headed into the mountains while all of my college friends headed to the beach for Spring Break. Even in Grad School, four day weekends meant trips to Oak Hill- driving all night, waking up the next day to have three inches of snow on the ground... that's peace.
The last times I was there were all white water rafting related- once as a last ditch effort to redeem and regain a failing relationship, once as a weekend adventure with friends from Chicago, and once as a part of my responsibilities as a youth pastor. But I haven't been back since 1999.
When my grandpa finally moved in with my parents, I knew it was the "end of an era" in some ways. I imagined that I would never get a chance to go back, and had made peace with that. I convinced myself that I was a different person, I had different values, and I had left behind the Chuck who needed to find solace in the simpler ways and slower pace of the New River Gorge. I had made new friends, I had gained education and wisdom, I had discovered other mountains... Things had changed.
And now, I find myself preparing to get on a plane to fly over those mountains and then drive up those roads. Honestly, I'm somewhat afraid of what I'll find- not that the mountains or rivers ever change, but that I'll be confronted with how much my life has changed since I was 10. Some, I'm sure, will be positive things- my wife will be visiting with me, for instance- but there's also an echo of who I thought I would be and what I believed would be resonating through my life that I'll have to come face to face with. And that's on top of saying goodbye to my grandfather; grieving the loss of a friend and mentor while I grieve the loss of dreams and goals.
Carrie and I found out yesterday that we will have all of Friday to ourselves (before my folks get in) to explore, relive, and remember. I'm glad this worked out as it did- I will need the time before I shift into "responsible oldest son" mode.
I'm looking forward to hearing the sound of rushing water that also has served as a soundtrack for my life. That's one of the distinctives that I remember about our visits to WVa.- even on the drive up, you can't help but notice all of the waterfalls (important things for a kid from the flatlands of the MidWest). Given that the Appalachian mountains are some of the oldest in the world, and that the New River may be older than the Nile, there is a sense of permanence and depth. The water is there, has been there, will be there; pouring, splashing, nourishing, carving, shaping everything in the state. And, in some way, it has nourished and shaped me as well.
And I get a feeling that I should have been home yesterday.
When I was a kid, this song was an "anthem" of mine... I can remember singing it at the top of my lungs with the windows down driving across southern Ohio into Gallipolis, across the Ohio, into the West Virginia hills (where we soon rolled up the windows- pig farms and coal burning power stations will do that), through Charleston (Charles town. Cool.) , up Gauley mountain to Fayette County and Oak Hill WVa.
This song brought me comfort and a sense of rootedness- strangely important to a pastor's son who moved to five different places before his seventh birthday. I always knew that somehow, things were OK in WVa. Maybe that's why I spent parts of my childhood summers there, or why I headed into the mountains while all of my college friends headed to the beach for Spring Break. Even in Grad School, four day weekends meant trips to Oak Hill- driving all night, waking up the next day to have three inches of snow on the ground... that's peace.
The last times I was there were all white water rafting related- once as a last ditch effort to redeem and regain a failing relationship, once as a weekend adventure with friends from Chicago, and once as a part of my responsibilities as a youth pastor. But I haven't been back since 1999.
When my grandpa finally moved in with my parents, I knew it was the "end of an era" in some ways. I imagined that I would never get a chance to go back, and had made peace with that. I convinced myself that I was a different person, I had different values, and I had left behind the Chuck who needed to find solace in the simpler ways and slower pace of the New River Gorge. I had made new friends, I had gained education and wisdom, I had discovered other mountains... Things had changed.
And now, I find myself preparing to get on a plane to fly over those mountains and then drive up those roads. Honestly, I'm somewhat afraid of what I'll find- not that the mountains or rivers ever change, but that I'll be confronted with how much my life has changed since I was 10. Some, I'm sure, will be positive things- my wife will be visiting with me, for instance- but there's also an echo of who I thought I would be and what I believed would be resonating through my life that I'll have to come face to face with. And that's on top of saying goodbye to my grandfather; grieving the loss of a friend and mentor while I grieve the loss of dreams and goals.
Carrie and I found out yesterday that we will have all of Friday to ourselves (before my folks get in) to explore, relive, and remember. I'm glad this worked out as it did- I will need the time before I shift into "responsible oldest son" mode.
I'm looking forward to hearing the sound of rushing water that also has served as a soundtrack for my life. That's one of the distinctives that I remember about our visits to WVa.- even on the drive up, you can't help but notice all of the waterfalls (important things for a kid from the flatlands of the MidWest). Given that the Appalachian mountains are some of the oldest in the world, and that the New River may be older than the Nile, there is a sense of permanence and depth. The water is there, has been there, will be there; pouring, splashing, nourishing, carving, shaping everything in the state. And, in some way, it has nourished and shaped me as well.
And I get a feeling that I should have been home yesterday.
Labels: Emmet Coleman
posted by Chuck at 6:45 PM
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