The Mountains Hold Secrets - and Spirits

Appalachia is so much more than it's glorious mountains, so much more than its trails where hikers scurry like ants for the sunlit peaks that reach for the sky. It is so much more than sweeping valleys, where daisies and jonquils bounce into spring, declaring their unabashed joy to be alive.

Deer trails crisscross the landscape, and on either side of those trails, Appalachia's woodlands, 'lovely, dark and deep' shelter the secrets of the mountains, hiding the human dramas, the back porches of small cabins where moonshine stills abound, and the rutted roads that jolt and bump bright yellow buses that carry the children to school.

There are spirits in these mountains, animal and human. Were you ever in any doubt? And in the spirit of this blog, of looking beyond the realms of possibilities, here's something you'll enjoy!


In her new book, "Them That Go", my friend, and fellow author Becky Mushko, has captured that spirit that lives deep inside the mountains and the people who live there.

One of those people is Annie Caldwell who rides the bus to school everyday, over 15 miles of rocky, winding roads. She sits in the back because she's different. She isn't like the others. She isn't like one of the stereotypes that go to her High School. She isn't vivacious and pretty like Loniss, the flirtatious cheerleader, or clever like Bert the nerd, who isn't like Lucas, the handsome quarterback who loves the cheerleader, or Sarenda Lovejoy, a free-spirited hippy child. And she is nothing like the girl who spouts the bible to put people in their places. Annie is different.

Her best friend is Aunt Lulie who happened to be born at midnight in these hills where it is well-known that if a baby is born at midnight, she will have second sight and will be able to see and talk to spirits. It's even more auspicious if that baby happens to be the first born girl. Many thought of Lulie as a witch with her long grey hair and missing teeth. But Annie loved her. Her kinship with Lulie is deep on many levels, including the fact that she is able to hear and speak to animals.

She has known that animals can speak for a long time. Ever since Rhody, the cow, began to tell her things that nobody else knew. Then one day, it was discovered that all the laying hens were missing; and Annie was the only one who knew where they were. She knew because one of the hens told her that they had been stolen by Silas Mosby. When the hens were found (In a shed on Silas's property) the hell fire and damnation preacher Elder Stoutmire, was summoned to exorcise the demons out of Annie.

But Annie knew what she knew. She continued talking to woodland animals and, more importantly, to the pets around the neighborhood who seem to know Everything. She took it all in stride, vowing never to tell another soul what she knew.

Until that became impossible, when Annie finds herself embroiled in the tangled mess of murder.


This is Becky Mushko at her best. Superbly written, "Them That Go"  is set in Appalachia in the 1970's. She has lit a torch and shone a light through the woodlands and valleys of the mountains exposing the illiteracy, poverty and the joy that coexists in 'them thar hills.' It's a telescope into the often stereotyped secretive existence of a musical people, sometimes gun-toting, hard-drinking, bible bashing folk we hardly know.

In my opinion it's a valuable learning tool as we, so many of us transplanted from other places, try to get a handle on the people who live around us. Our neighbors, who are so like us in so many ways. Except for Annie who is 'different'.

Becky will be presenting her book at The Franklin Co. Library on March 22nd at 6:00 p.m. and at the West Lake Library on April 14th at 2:00 p.m. I hope you'll be there, and I hope you'll share this blog with your own friends and neighbors. The book is a treat!

More 'beyonds the bounds of known possibilities soon'! Take care.

Old Spirits Young Spirits

Last week, I read a piece of my new book to my Lake Writer's Group. Testing the waters, if you will and asking for their feed back. They're very good at this sort of stuff, and it takes a brave soul to put him or herself out there with something for them to critique, let me tell you.

The group is made up of writers of every genre you can imagine, and conducted by smart people from many walks of life. English teachers (Yikes!) lawyers, doctors, world travelers, spies, I think, - or maybe they're just rehearsing the next scene in their next thriller. I'm pretty sure there are no murderers among us, but if you go by their murder mysteries, you might scratch your head and say, "Hmmmm. . ." She knows a little too much about poisons if you ask me. But don't tell her I said so.

And then there's me. I see dead people. So I write about what I know. Isn't that what they tell you to do? Yes. So, my genre concerns itself with the Afterlife; and in this newest attempt of mine at the next Great American Non-fiction Book, I'm talking about Pre-existence. So much fun! And there's a lot of head-scratching going on around the table, believe me.

My fellow writers, nice people, everyone of them, give my readings a lot of lee way. They're mostly still trying to figure what the heck I'm talking about, but they're great listeners and very polite about the ghosts I pull out at the Friday morning group.

Case in point: Last week the piece of the new book I read to them dealt with Old Spirits and Young Spirits. "So, what's an Old Spirit?" Someone asked. "Compared to a Young Spirit". The answer caught me off-guard, and my answer was painfully inarticulate as I groped for words that made sense and soon realized I was making very little sense.

Let me try again. To put it in context, the opening chapter of my new book begins with the birth and shocking arrival of a Young Human Spirit. He has no idea where he is or how he got here. Memories of the place he came from, clear at first, begin to fade with the sudden and horrific realization that he has reincarnated on earth.What was he thinking!

"Where am I? Holy sh. . . what is this place? Woah! Everything's upside down! Yikes! What's happening? Heeelp! Can anyone hear me?" 

A Young spirit is not young in years as we understand time in the 3rd. Dimension (Where we live). He's young in that he hasn't been on earth many times, and maybe not at all, so he has little or no experience with what it's like here. No wonder he was yelling for help. He usually comes here to learn, in what may be the original 'School of Hard Knocks', where we earn extra points for our spiritual and human evolution. A Young spirit is either going to remember nothing about anything when he arrives, or he is going to be mightily confused. As this one was.

An Old spirit on the other hand, is one who has been around this block many times over the eons. He's not phased (fazed?) by it. He probably napped the whole time he was in the womb because he knew where he was going and what he'd signed up for. Even if it was a very difficult life - as they sometimes are for Old spirits. They sign up because of their experience, and they sign up to teach and to enlighten the rest of us. They arrive on earth with everything under control, ready to take this life in stride.

It's strange, but the very people who aggravate or concern us the most may be Old Spirits with lessons to teach. Or a child who is born a cripple, what is she teaching? A young man with aids ... We've got so much to learn.

I believe that young or old, our spirits have all been around since time began. Some of them just take their time getting down here. That's my take.

An old friend of mine passed away not long ago, and a very neat thing happened while I was out walking the morning after he died. It was a warm day and my shirt was sticking to to me. My mind was in neutral, not thinking, not even noticing much, when a sudden gust of warm air blew past me. I stopped in my tracks and had the clearest impression of my friend arriving at his destination. The light around him was misty, opaque as I watched him step onto a platform or concourse or something. I saw him reach out to someone, a young man, I think, who was there to meet him. Although he was bedridden in his last days, he was walking strongly, smiling and was obviously pleased to be there. Taking it all in stride. I think he was an Old spirit.

We should post a quiz  on FB : Are You A Young Spirit or an Old Spirit? Click here to find out.

Take care, See you next time.