As you know, I am a woman of a particular place, a woman who is from and of the southern highlands of the Appalachian mountains. From my west-facing window, I look out on the third oldest river in the world, framed by the oldest mountains.
The energy is deep here, hoary, implacable. If you are brave and crazy enough to connect your energy to this land, there can be no turning back from it. And no turning your back on it, not for long, not if you value sleep and quiet thought. This land will haunt you and you need only ask those whose families left here for greener pastures and died longing for a remote and drafty cabin set on a rolling hillside. Those who still think of themselves as mountain folk--though they have lived in the flatlands for a long, long time.
For almost a week now, word has been coming out of West Virginia about a chemical leak into the old Elk River. Bits and pieces, then the full horror. But little on the mainstream media, not surprising. All about the Olympics and Christie and the president of France's girl friend. Was there some problem with the drinking water in West Virginia? Was there some weird incidence of corporate incompetence and toxic materials lightly tended and rarely monitored?