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After his death, a man
standing at the Pearly Gates noticed a high wall around a section of
Heaven.
He asked
St.
Peter,
“Why is there a wall in Heaven?”
St.
Peter
responded, “Oh, that’s where we put
West Virginians,
because whenever the weekend comes, they keep trying to go home.”
It is hard
for employers outside of the state to understand the depth and meaning
of the phrase, “I need to go home,” when stated by a West Virginian.
When said by
someone from another state, one might assume that there’s been a death
in the family, or some kind of family emergency. In the case of a West
Virginian, sometimes that’s true, but how many employers can comprehend
that the words, “I need to go home” could also mean, “It’s time to
harvest the crop,” or “It’s our family reunion” or simply, “I need to
walk quietly in the wooded hills before I lose my mind?”
The third
year Frank
and I were together, he spent nine months out of the year working in
Northern Virginia.
In nine months, we saw each other four times; twice he came home, once I
went to
Virginia,
and one weekend, we met in the middle. We were in a financial pickle
that year, and he did what had to be done.
When winter
came, I found myself alone, deep in a shaded hollow, in a house that
used wood heat, in a valley that had two steep gravel hills as the only
way out. The sun didn’t shine on me from the eastern hilltops until
11:30
a.m., and by
4 p.m.
it vanished over the western mountains. Two weeks before Christmas,
during our bi-weekly telephone call, I was terribly sad.
“It’s time
for you to come home,” I cried.
The next
day, Frank put in his notice at work, and began packing and preparing to
come home to stay. The only surprise for his
Virginia
employers was that he had stayed so long already.
West
Virginians have traveled
to Northern Virginia
(and other locations) for work for decades. Known as hard workers,
established employers will sometimes favor a
West Virginia
applicant unconsciously because of this reputation of
West Virginia
work ethic.
Obviously,
shown by the joke I was sent over the internet, there is a drawback to
hiring an out-of-state West Virginian . . . Nine times out of 10, they
have to go home on a regular basis, and five times out of 10, they will
likely walk into the office at some point and simply say, “I’m done
here.”
I’ve come to believe
that this happens to transplanted
West Virginians
because they have such deep roots in a fertile culture here at home.
West Virginians
have trouble growing roots outside of the state. Here, they know
everything about everyone, their parents, grandparents--generations of
life stories. You could know someone in another state for years, and
still never know their roots (if they even have any).
West
Virginians have deep
rooted doubt, deep rooted faith, deep rooted love and anger.
West Virginians
have deep roots.
This is why
there are elderly residents here who have never left
West Virginia.
This is why West Virginians
have a hard time establishing a “new root system” outside the state.
This is why West Virginians
often need to come home to their roots.
I don’t know if I would
climb a wall and run from the Pearly Gates to escape home to “Almost
Heaven, West
Virginia.” (I
sometimes wonder if I can spend the rest of this life in
West Virginia,
much less the next life, but then again, I’m a transplant.)
I do know,
however, that each of our lives is affected by those around us; those
who are returning, those who are new, those who stay, those who go,
those who speak and those who are silent. Our lives are affected and our
characters are molded by those who love us, hate us, serve us . . . even
by those who ignore us or don’t know us, but encounter us for a single
moment by a fluke.
It’s all
because of those deep, interwoven roots.
How we treat
others in our root system now will decide whether or not we get the
choice later to climb the wall in Heaven to come back home.
I try to remind myself of that. |