One More Short Lesson From Cratis Williams and "Sacred Wind..."

Reading "Tales From Sacred Wind Coming Of Age in Appalachia" by Cratis D. Williams has been a real pleasure for me and, based on page views of the other blog posts I have written about it, many of my readers on this blog agree with me.  My posts about "Traditional Appalachian Children's Games" and "Death, Dying, and Funeral Rites In Appalachia" have been some of the most well received posts I have ever written on this blog.  I appreciate the interest in both my writing about his work and about the work of Cratis D. Williams. 

Cratis D. Williams--Photo by the Williams Family

He was one of the early founding fathers of the entire Appalachian Studies movement and he deserves that respect.  I am nearly through the book and will write a longer, more traditional book review of the book in a few days when I finish it.  But I just came across another story of a completely different nature in the book which I want to discuss at length here because it reflects on an important cultural and moral value among Appalachian people which I believe has vanished to a great degree in much of the region.  

In the section to which I am referring, Cratis went to the home of some school friends during a school year break when he going to high school in Louia and living in the home of some relatives because his home on Craines Creek was twenty-five miles away, too far in the 1920's to live at home and go to school. At the time, it was a full day's ride on mule back or in a wagon. As he relates the story, during his time in the home of these friends, he could hear sounds coming from somewhere in the house and could not account for the person making the sounds since everyone he had met was in sight of him at the time.  As Williams begins the story: "I kept hearing hearing a moan and chatter followed by high pitched laughter coming from somewhere in the house.  Nobody said anything about it and the Boggses talked on as if they heard nothing."  For nearly anyone, such an occurrence would cause a lot of thoughts, possibly some worry and fear.  But, as it turned out, there was no cause for any concern, worry, fear, or other negative emotions.  But Williams goes on with the story: "During the first night I was there, I could hear that curious moaning and high pitched laughter from time to time all through the night.  But, the next morning, Cratis Williams got his answers about the moaning and laughter when the mother of the family asked one of his friends "...to bring Hettie to warm and to be fed by the fire.  Two of the boys disappeared.  In a few minutes, they returned carrying a high chair in which was strapped a badly deformed little girl with a misshapen face."  As Cratis Williams relates the story, he was then told that the father of the family had been out and about in the community one day when he had heard noises coming from what appeared to be an abandoned house.  He went to the house, looked in the curtainless window and saw two small children in the empty house, one dead, and the other, Hettie, still alive but very weak crawling in the floor. The man then went to the closest neighbor for help and they entered the house, rescued the living child, and reported the events to the authorities in Louisa.  As it turned out, the two severely disabled children were orphans whose parents had been first cousins and that consanguinity resulted in their severe handicaps.  The parents had died and left the children to another sibling and her husband who were not handicapped.  But these caretakers had abandoned the two children and "...left the country.  No one knew where they had gone."  The community had buried the dead child and the county had allowed this family to take care of the severely handicapped little girl, a job which they had accepted freely at a time when there was no such things as welfare, kinship care, child support, foster care, or food stamps.  This family had seen a human being in need, unable to care for even her most basic needs, and had taken on the responsibility of caring for her for the rest of her life, no matter how long that might be.  Williams does not relate that the authorities were ever able to locate the two adults who abandoned the children.  But, in light of the limited ability of police agencies in that time to locate fugitives, it is unlikely that anyone ever heard from them again.  

This story, while not absolutely common in Appalachia, does point out a tendency among native Appalachian people in the early twentieth century to see a need and step up to address it in whatever way seemed best at the time.  We are people of compassion, honesty, honor, and willingness to provide for those who cannot provide for themselves.  I have written in several places on this blog about the "Appalachian Values" of Loyal Jones, another of the early fathers of the Appalachian Studies movement and someone I have known.   I have never known of a story exactly like this one in my life in Appalachia.  But I have seen a few occasions when an elderly person without close relatives has been accepted into an unrelated home to be cared for until death. Some Mennonite friends of mine cared for an older woman until her death and are now caring for an elderly man about the same age.  I have known several instances of families having disabled members, both children and adults, who have been cared for and protected admirably by their family.  In my own family in another state, a niece and her husband have a severely handicapped daughter whom they care for with love, respect, and compassion that is admirable anywhere.  It is sad that such a story could have been true in Eastern Kentucky in the 1920's but such stories are not completely unheard of anywhere.  What is to be learned from this story is that in Appalachia, people usually have tried to do the right thing in nearly all circumstances and still do today.   This is one of the most moving stories in the Williams book and it is well worth reading.