I am Chickamauga.  During the Reagan and Bush Pere administrations, I lived in a remote valley in the southernmost part of Appalachia.  We grew acres of food. We gathered even more from defunct homesteads and other stands of wild fruit and vegetables.  Raised hogs and hunted to keep a larder.  That’s how most around me lived.  Interspersed among our little farms were the families that worked at sock mills and carpet mills and other kinds of mills.  That had given in to something.
At the end I discovered, too late, what that something was.  And it was only the Lord that could have broken that bond.


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