While googling something completely different, I came upon a website that made my jaw drop.

New River Zen Community. Yes! Southwest Virginia does offer alternatives! See? Yes, you might see giant neon crosses as you head south on I-81, but don’t dare think that’s the whole story. Yes indeedy weedy we’ve got diversity in Virginia’s Great Southwest. And I do believe, I pray with all my heart, that everyone will see that as an asset.

In Richard Florida’s book The Rise of the Creative Class he makes the point that diversity is what invigorates the sustainability of a community. (http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/features/2001/0205.florida.html).

The more tolerant, open, and welcoming the region is, the more we will grow and invite a younger generation back. There are some other signs that it can happen and perhaps has been happening. The Blue Ridge School of Massage (http://www.blueridgemassage.org/) has been in operation in Montgomery County (http://www.montva.com/) for several years. Now, alternative living and health choices aren’t the only thing that makes up diversity. Personally, I feel that cultivating diversity means cultivating a tolerance for other lifestyles, cultures, philosophies. I hope beyond hope that is the direction our beautiful region is moving in. Then I think we truly will be able to call this God’s country, since God loves everyone. . . no exceptions.

-Lucinda McDermott Piro

1847, Marion, Virginia. It’s an early evening in May, with the last vestiges of orange streak gone from the indigo sky. A little slave girl named Sallie has steeled away from her mistress, out a side door of the prominent home known as Rosemont. Her new mistress, Mary Thurman, was ill. Not so ill she was dying, but ill enough to be in constant pain and discomfort 24 of the 24 hours a day Sallie had to care for her as her body servant. She had been bought on the slave block in the old Marion Courthouse yard by Thomas Thurman of Marion, while the rest of her family was sold to a slave owner in Lynchburg. Sallie was only 5 or 6 years old at the time. Reeling from the loss of her loved ones, frightened and unsure in new surroundings, Sallie would be beaten by her owners if she cried or showed any emotion. And so whenever she could, Sallie would steal away from the house to a tall, white oak nearby, wrap her arms around the tree, tell it her sorrows, and cry her heart out. The tree patiently absorbed her anguish. The tree gave her strength to be able to go back to the house, to hold her head up, to endure. For even after the War Between the States was over for white folks, it wasn’t over for blacks. Sallie would be forced to endure unheard of indignities common for African Americans yet uncommonly repugnant for any civilized society. Yet Sallie continued throughout her life to embody the strength of a mighty oak, coining her motto which she passed on to her children; “Always be your best, always do your best, and always give your best.”

Sallie might have been the first tree hugger.

This story comes to us the way nearly all of our stories of slavery have come, via oral tradition since slaves were forbidden to learn to read or write, and after the Civil War southern blacks were not exactly encouraged to remember. But remember they did, and stories were told. And trees still stand.

Behind the Marion Firehouse stands Sallie’s Crying Tree (http://www.cnr.vt.edu/4h/remarkabletree/
detail.cfm?AutofieldforPrimaryKey=1398). Thanks to Sallie (whose given name was Sarah Elizabeth Thurman) who told her story to her daughter Susie, who told it to her daughter Evelyn Lawrence of Marion, a retired school teacher and historian, we have her legacy today. Others will be able to benefit from it by visiting Marion (http://www.marionva.org/), seeing the tree themselves and reading the plaque that marks the spot. You can also visit the website of the Remarkable Tree Project (http://www.cnr.vt.edu/4h/remarkabletree/index.cfm) which features other trees of Virginia possessing inspiring stories including Sallie’s Crying Tree. These trees will be featured in the book Remarkable Trees of Virginia by Jeff Kirwan and Nancy Ross Hugo to be released sometime this year. In an Arbor Day address last year in Marion, Kirwan, a professor in forestry at Va Tech, remembered seeing an image of a student hugging a tree after the tragic events of April 16, 2007 at Va Tech. Rolling down the years of her life, Sallie referred to her Crying Tree as her mentor. Her friend. Would that we could all be a tree of strength for others in their need. Sturdy, calm, un-flinching, patient, still, and. . . there. Hug a tree. Better yet, be a tree for somebody else.

-Lucinda McDermott Piro

I’ve got baguette dough rising and my gazpacho is coolin’ & melding. Salsa pizza and other snacks and appetizers are in my near future, as well as some brown bagging. This early evening my friends and I will gather at the Sunset Lounge. The view is pastoral and soothing; green fields, grazing cows, rolling hills and sleepy clouds. And of course, a spectacular sunset. The best crowd gathers at the Sunset Lounge, kind of a “Cheers” clientèle. If the weather is right, the fire pit will be lit, and warmth will glow from the embers as well as the libations.

The Sunset Lounge is in my friend’s backyard. There’s a group of us that have been gathering in the late afternoon on Fridays for happy hour the last couple of years. We circulated around a couple of eateries and bars in town, but they were just kind of. . . meh. Then we started alternating around our own backyards and kitchens. And that’s when the fun began.

My friends Trisha and Carmel bought a house last year that is the culmination of all their dreams and wishes. Trisha wanted a whimsy house—a roofed non-walled dwelling decorated with plants, candles, knick-knacks and what nots, possessing THE view. Carmel, a weekend builder, obliged. Thus, the Sunset Lounge was born. Tonight we’ll gather there, next week it might be My Deck, the next week, the Neighbor’s Patio. Wherever we land, the food is just what we want, the drinks are affordable and a-plenty, and no one expects a tip.
Except to know where we’re meeting next week.

- Lucinda McDermott Piro

This past Tuesday night, April 29th, 2008, Southwest Virginia lost one of its greatest promoters. Dr. Forrest Benedict Green, better known to friends as “Fess” died after holding on for a week in intensive care from being struck by a car while riding his bike at the entrance to Bisset Park in Radford. He was a professor in management at Radford University, a historian, and a civic leader. It was a tragic end for this larger than life man whose 2003 book “Wilderness Road Odyssey” was based on his bicycling the 850 miles of the Wilderness Road over a period of four years.

I worked with Fess on a project for putting together a documentary on the Wilderness Road. I chuckled when I read that his RU colleague and fellow Pathways member Liz Altieri referred to him as a “bulldog”. She meant that if he had a viewpoint different from yours, he would firmly hold his ground. The last time I saw Fess was in a meeting for the Wilderness Road Documentary Group. We got into a passionate discussion about historic integrity. Fess didn’t back down, nor did I. But because of that we both came to an understanding and quality filled collaboration—not compromise. If you’d like a sample of his delicious tenacity, read this article he wrote in which he challenges other historians.

Fess was a dedicated cyclist and very detailed oriented. I’m sure he would take every safety precaution possible. Nearing retirement, he and his wife have been building a home on the South Carolina shore. It’s too sad. The driver of the car which struck Fess, Ryan Brinkley Sherman was only 20 years old. At the time of this writing, he has not been charged.

Twenty years old. Fess was sixty-seven.

Life is so fragile. It’s easy for me to get stuck in the pondering of age and what that means, and the argument of “life is short” vs. “life is long”. I’m sure if Fess could speak he would argue with “life is short”, and Mr. Sherman going through whatever he is currently living through must be feeling, “life is long.” Fess’s students have an exam of his to take tomorrow. Many of them will be pondering these questions as well, and most likely feel very, very strange and sad.

Southwest Virginia is grateful for Fess’s short life. He was a charter member of the Pathways group which has created beautiful trails for walking and biking in Wildwood Park and Bisset Park along the New River. Pathways is sponsoring a Ride of Silence on Wed. May 21 to honor Fess. Check their website for further details.

With his book behind him, Fess was a driving force in getting the Wilderness Road designated with Virginia Tourism. This is just a partial list of his accomplishments. The whole United States is grateful for Fess’s contributions in the armed forces, particularly in Vietnam. Seems weird to have survived Vietnam, only to be struck down by a careless driver at the entrance to the park he helped enhance.

There will be a celebration of Fess’s life Sunday, May 4 at 7pm at the Ken Bondurant Auditorium in Preston Hall at Radford University. The Green family has requested that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the Fess Green Wildwood Park Memorial Fund in-care-of Pathways for Radford. Pathways will be on hand at the celebration to accept donations, and starting May 5th will accept online donations at http://www.radfordpl.org/pathways/.

They can also be mailed to:

Fess Green Wildwood Park Memorial Fund
c/o Pathways for Radford
P.O. Box 1283
Radford, VA 24143

If anyone would like to share Fess’s experience of biking the Wilderness Road, read his marvelous book based on his journal writings while biking the trails from 1994 to 1998. “Wilderness Road Odyssey”, ISBN-13: 9780936015941, can be ordered from the publisher, Pocahontas Press by going to their website at http://www.pocahontaspress.com/. If you’d like to try biking the Wilderness Road yourself, visit http://www.cyclingdoubleheader.com/WRR.html where folks can go on an organized bike tour.

Life is short, so live it up. Life is long, so fill it up.

Happy trails, Fess.

-Lucinda McDermott Piro

Just when you thought you were savvy with the lingo, when you figured out that “My bad” wasn’t an incomplete sentence—you realized that your son’s comment “sweet!” about the new DS Mini didn’t mean he wanted to eat it—that the phrase, “Oo, snap!” wasn’t about a shirt closure—along comes something new.

Farmshoring.

Huh?

Try this: think of offshoring. You know, a company wants to save money, so they relocate to another country, thus saving the company money, but robbing U.S. citizens of jobs in the meantime. Right, so farmshoring is that company deciding to save money by moving the company to rural America to create job and opportunities for U.S citizens while saving money. What’s there not to love?!

We at Return to Roots have watched the positive economic, moral, and regional impact CGI and Northrop Grumman have had by moving to Lebanon, Virginia, both successful examples of farmshoring.

There are always going to be two sides to any issue, and there are those who will tell you that offshoring is still the cheaper way to go if a company wants to save money on wages. According to a 2003 report by McKinsey Global Institute, a software developer from the U.S. making $60/hour can be matched by a developer in India possessing the same skill $6/hour. BUT! Start up costs, building costs, rent or purchasing of location, infrastructure, is going to cost a lot less by farmshoring according to every article out there. Consider too the advantage of U.S. security issues and language complications avoided by relocating a company within the U.S. rather than out.

One argument I saw said you can get an educated and experienced IT person to move to a rurally located company, or one to return to their roots, but why would they send their kids to a Southwest Virginia school? Let’s first look at the assumption that a rural school system isn’t going to measure up to a city school. We might point out what happens when you break the word “assume” down. Having taught in both inter-city and rural schools, I would say that there is a lot less crime and drugs in your rural school. The student/teacher ratio is better. The surrounding community is more involved in the success of every student, because every student represents the community. Teachers in any school system still have to meet state requirements. The teacher in a smaller, less stressful environment isn’t going to experience the same burn-out one in a metropolitan area will suffer. The point has been made that the companies involved in farmshoring would benefit from being benefactors for the schools, actively investing in the success of the school system and the students from the area. This helps the community, and encourages new employees. Now there is a win-win situation. Both CGI and Northrup Grumman invest in the learning institutions where they live.

Obviously adjustments within the community need to happen, as well as adjustments made on the part of those moving into the community. Patrick Jonsson wrote in the Christian Science Monitor (February 23, 2006), “That Appalachia is on the forefront of farmshoring is a result of massive investing in broadband, which connects wide, rural swaths to the Internet. The Department of Agriculture has handed out more than $800 million in low-interest loans for broadband expansion nationwide, a portion of which went to Virginia. Lebanon and Russell County, Va., received more than $4 million in grants from the Department of Commerce as well as from the state’s tobacco settlement fund. The fiber optic cable through Russell County, Daniel Boone’s old stomping grounds, officially went live last year. “If you don’t build it, they won’t come,” says Jim Andrew administrator for the USDA’s Rural Development Utilities Program. “Somebody out there has to have the vision … because it’s really not an easy thing to do where the people are few and far between.””

Other obstacles to folks’ feelings about the success or not of farmshoring consist of negative perceptions of rural Virginia. But that’s a topic for a whole other blog!

Those of us with children always have an ear out for that phrase. What with drive by shootings in major metropolitan areas, the fear of letting your kids out of your sight for a second although we know at some point they have to learn to be independent. . . what’s a parent to do? Where are we to go?

Let me tell you about my southwest Virginia. I live in Radford, in the New River Valley, part of Virginia’s Great Southwest. Both of my kids walk to school (when they don’t bribe me for a ride. . .) they walk to the library, downtown, the park, their friend’s house. . .. . Obviously, when they began walking places by themselves there were ground rules and boundaries, but I admit as a parent, I feel like I’ve pulled off a great feat. I’ve been able to provide my children with just a little bit of the freedom I had in my childhood, within a safe environment. I know that when they go downtown to get a hot chocolate at the Coffee Mill or see a $3.50 movie at the Radford Cinema, that along they way they will pass people they know and trust. If there ever is a problem, they can stop into a friendly shop, and I’m minutes away via cell phone. I recall a child I babysat in New York City, having to pick him up from his school in a taxi cab. That was just weird. I love New York, but when I’m up there now visiting with my children, I’m like a hawk holding on to their arms, watching the crowd. I’m so grateful to be able to allow them a bit of freedom so they can grow into their independence, while experiencing for myself a little peace of mind.

“Commitment” is a word that can stir up some awfully conflicting feelings. Up to the point I got married I avoided the word as much as possible. When I did confront the issue along with my vows, it dawned on me that in committing to my husband, I was really committing to myself. That realization has proven true. Likewise, I reached a point in my life where I was tired of moving every two or three years, in part because I was never in one place long enough to put down roots. My profession was in the arts, and the vicissitudes of my professional necessitated frequent moves. I loved my work, but I wanted to be able to commit to a community, to become a part of something bigger than myself. Coming back home to SWVA, buying a home we could afford, and becoming involved in community projects has given me a sense of connectedness I hadn’t known before. I feel that I get back so much more than I give, and in the process I am teaching my children that service to others is more important than finding out “what’s in it for me”.