Reflections

Also, before I go forward, I want to express my appreciation to the Kentucky Arts Council for the help with financing my trip to the Appalachian Writers Workshop. And to you, the taxpayers from whom those financial blessings flow, and to the legislators who continue to fund the arts in Kentucky.

And to Mike Mullins for 32 years of putting together this outstanding conference.

A trip to the AWW, commonly called Hindman, has benefits and resonances far beyond the classroom work and the formal readings with the likes of Ron Rash, Maurice Manning, George Ella Lyon, Silas House, and Anne Shelby.

Other delights were:

• having Leatha Kendrick as a fellow student, hearing her read raw in-class writings (which were amazing I assure you).
• eating lunch with Jeff Daniel Marion, discussing the work of B. H. Fairchild and Diane Lockward, and singing the praise of buckets.
• asking Charlie Hughes for help in polishing a line, and George Brosi‘s offer to cash a check for me when I said I was worried about having enough cash for the trip home. Who cashes checks any more?
• an afternoon hour spent rocking on the porch and talking with Normandi Ellis.
• hearing Diane Gilliam read from new work, poems in the voice of Rachel’s spurned sister Leah. Diane comes to Hindman, not as staff, but as a student. She’s a good example of the caliber of “student” loyal to this community. She made a beautiful quilt, which she donated to be raffled off. It raised enough money to support two student scholarships to the AWW next year. Such is the generosity of those who are loyal to this community.
• hearing Gurney Norman read his Pledge of Allegiance to his mountain roots, which he did at the end of the student readings. Gurney is Writer-in-Residence at Hindman, following in the footsteps of James Still and Jim Wayne Miller. Incidentally, at least at Hindman, he is the current Poet Laureate of Kentucky.
• sharing the top-most cabin, a glass of saki, and rambling conversations with Dory Hudspeth. Saki the only bitter thing about that experience. I think I’ll stick to my Barefoot merlot.
• early riser kaffee klatches with Dory, Diane, Charles Swanson, and Barbara Smith. The late-nighters had their revelries but the morning offered joys too.
• late night “pillow talk” of a sort with my two roommates, poet Jane Sasser and kiddy-lit writer Leigh Ann Roman.
• I need to mention two other mountain-climbing housemates who shared the joys and sorrows of the steep trudge up to Preece and the late night lounge conversations: Bonnie McKee, who turned out to live just a few miles from my homeplace and be “almost” kin, and the sculptor, Carter Seaton. Some consider it a burden to live in Preece but companions such as these offer compensation.
• And last, but not least, I found great pleasure in the drive to and from Hindman with my good friends Bruce Florence, Georgia Green Stamper, and our redoubtable chaffeur Gail Chandler. Thanks for the buggy ride, Gail.

So much to process and I know I’ve left people out. It was a blast. I learned much, made new friends, and deepened old friendships. What more could I possibly have wanted?