The Big Road

Highlander

Description

A generational story documenting a family's move from rural southern Appalachia to a big city in the north.

It is the 1940s as Garrison Yokum grows up in Betsy Layne, Kentucky. He enjoys sitting on the back porch with his cousins, watching trains haul coal to big cities, dreaming of what lies beyond the mountains, and traveling along the “big road,” also known as US Route 23, with his parents on Saturdays. But when Garrison is seven, work becomes even more difficult, dangerous, and precarious for his coal miner father, setting into motion a chain of events that ultimately leads them to Ann Arbor, Michigan, for a new life. From that point on, Route 23 becomes a focal point in Garrison’s life.



Decades later and now approaching retirement, Garrison makes another life-changing decision as he nears completion of a documentary on the migration of families from rural east Kentucky to the cities along Route 23. After he sets out on a road trip with his professional photographer granddaughter and two student interns, Garrison explores and captures life along the long, important American highway that helped many families secure better futures beyond the mountains of southern Appalachia.



The Big Road is a generational story that documents the experiences of those who migrated from southern Appalachia to bigger cities in the north by way of a memorable American highway.

Sujets

• Road trip
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Archway Publishing
• Date de parution: 26 avril 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665741354
• Langue: English

Extrait

ALSO BY HIGHLA NDER
One Wore Gray / One Wore Blue
THE BIG ROAD
 
FROM BETSY LAYNE TO ANN ARBOR AND BEYOND
 
 
HIGHLANDER
 
 

 
Copyright © 2023 Highlander.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6657-4134-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-4135-4 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023905552
 
Archway Publishing rev. date: 4/19/2023
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
SETTING THE STAGE
THE ROAD CREW
AUTUMN IN NORTH CAROLINA
FOLLOWING THE BLUE RIDGE TO ROUTE 23
THROUGH THE SMOKIES
CAPTURING A JEWEL OF SOUTHERN APPALACHIA ON FILM
EXIT NORTH CAROLINA, ENTER TENNESSEE
CROSSING THE TIP OF VIRGINIA
GARRISON RETURNS TO KENTUCKY
BACK TO ROUTE 23, A.K.A. KENTUCKY’S COUNTRY MUSIC HIGHWAY
CROSSING THE OHIO
C-BUS AT SUNSET
MICHIGAN, HERE WE COME
OH! WHAT A BRIDGE
AT THE SOO
THE RETURN TRIP SOUTH
ANOTHER SNAPSHOT OF GARRISON’S EARLY LIFE
GARRISON’S TRIBUTE TO HIS HERO OF MIDDLE CREEK
PROLOGUE
A Garrison Snapshot
On the way to my very first day of school, Mother told me I was going to learn the three Rs of an Appalachian education: reading, ’ritin’, and Route 23. I was five. With my hand wrapped in hers, Mother led me down the dirt road in front of our house to a paved street that came with a sidewalk. As we made our way along the sidewalk past the Presbyterian church, Mother set her sights on the corner drugstore located at the intersection of Court Street and Main. That’s the crossing where a traffic light dangled from wires stretching across that busy intersection to allow people to safely cross Main Street. When we finally arrived at the corner drugstore, the traffic light was changing from red to green, resulting in Mother squeezing my hand a bit harder to keep me from stepping out into traffic. While we waited for the green light to change back to red, Mother told me I was going to learn how letters are put together to form words and how words are strung together to make sentences. Suddenly, the traffic light changed back to red, prompting Mother to ease her grip on my hand and lead me to the other side of the intersection past the Gulf gas station and finally to a long sidewalk that stretched along a row of houses to a big yellow brick building. As we made our way down that long sidewalk, I remember those small-frame houses had front porches and looked the same in every detail. Intrigued with how alike all these houses appeared, I thought how easy it would be for someone to go into the wrong house. I also remember seeing a woman on one of the porches, holding a baby close to her chest. With my attention firmly focused on the woman with the baby, Mother explained that the yellow brick building ahead of us was the elementary school and that it was the largest building in Betsy Layne. She then told me to pay close attention to my teachers. Mother said my teachers knew things that would be important to me as I got older.
Once we were directly in front of the house with the woman holding her baby, I discovered the baby was actually sucking on the woman’s breast. I had seen Mother feed my baby brother this way but not out in the open on the front porch. For some unexplained reason, Mother realized I was gawking at the woman with the baby sucking on her breast and gave my hand a strong tug. Having directed my attention back to the yellow brick building, Mother explained that I was going to learn to spell things other than my name. When we made it to the end of the long sidewalk, Mother stopped just inside the tall fence surrounding the schoolyard and told me that the big road we crossed back at the traffic light was Route 23. She went on to tell me that I would travel that big road when I got old enough to explore places beyond the mountains of Floyd County. She said that the big road would take me to places up north as well as to places down south. Mother explained that Route 23 ran both ways and that when I got done traveling, the big road would lead me back home.
As Mother and I waited near the tall chain fence, I saw lots of children of various ages wandering around the schoolyard as if they were expecting something important to happen. I also remember thinking that a lot of mothers in Betsy Layne, in addition to my own mother, were probably looking forward to letting the school take charge of us children for a good part of the day. As I watched the flag on top of the school building wave with the wind, Mother licked her hand and ran it through my hair to flatten a cowlick at the back of my head. She then used her comb to part my hair down the middle. Satisfied that she had done all she could for my hair, she then spun me around to make sure my shirt was properly tucked into my pants. She also inspected my belt to see if I had fed it through all the loops. After passing Mother’s inspection, a tall, slender man wearing glasses emerged from the big yellow brick building and stood behind a microphone. From his vantage point on the top step, this man with a bald head took a minute to survey all us children gathered in front of the school building. The man then instructed us children to form lines by grade K through eight. Mother directed me to the kindergarten line and waited near the fence as the principal told us children to place our right hands over our hearts and to direct our attention to the flag on top of the building. Following the Pledge of Allegiance and with the flag still waving with the wind, I began climbing the steps leading into the big yellow brick building. Once I made it to the top step, I turned and saw Mother leaving the schoolyard on her way back home. At five years of age, I, Garrison Yokum, was about to begin my formal Appalachian education.
SETTING THE STAGE
Garrison Yokum spent the first seven years of his life in east Kentucky in a small village located along US Route 23, midway between the towns of Prestonsburg and Pikeville. That village is Betsy Layne. The front porch of the Yokum residence sits a mere five feet back from a dirt road that the mail carrier refers to as the “long, dusty trail.” The back porch of the house provides a clear view of the Levisa Fork River and overlooks the railroad tracks that run along the other side of the river. On many hot, summer afternoons, Garrison and two of his cousins would hang out on the back porch while eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking RC colas. From the Yokum back porch, these young lads would also watch trains haul the coal their fathers had dug from the ground up to cities along the Ohio River or down into the Tennessee Valley.
There were also times when Garrison and his cousins would watch their fathers cast fishing lines into the river while hoping to snag another fish supper. While waiting for supper-size fishes to take their bait, these older Yokums would often enjoy a cold beer or two. Garrison took pride in knowing that the coal his father and uncles helped dig from the mines of east Kentucky would be used to fuel power plants in cities like Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and Knoxville.
As a lad about to turn eight, Garrison really liked living in Betsy Layne, playing basketball with his cousins, and swimming along the banks of the Levisa Fork.
Now decades later and approaching retirement, Garrison tells his granddaughter stories about those early years in Betsy Layne and how those times are among the best memories of his life. The stories Garrison shares with his granddaughter include those times he, too, would sit on the riverbank while waiting for a fish to take his bait and dreaming of building a raft that would carry him north to where the Levisa Fork merges with the Tug Fork out of West Virginia to form the Big Sandy River. From there, Garrison also would dream of riding the raft up to where the Big Sandy empties into the majestic Ohio River. Once on the Ohio River, Garrison’s imagination would go from riding a raft to hitching a ride on one of the many tugboats pushing large barges of coal to places like Maysville, Cincinnati, and Louisville.
For a young Garrison Yokum, life in Betsy Layne was about to shift from those early boyhood experiences to a yearning to discover what lay beyond the mountains of east Kentucky.
While Garrison spent many afternoons dreaming of future adventures beyond Betsy Layne, his parents were faced with present challenges of raising a family among the coalfields of Appalachia. Garrison often recalls his father, Charles, spending five days deep inside a mine while extracting coal for a worldwide market that didn’t demand as much coal as it did during the uncertain times of World War II. Garrison also remembers the family trips down Route 23 to Pikeville on most Saturdays when the Yokum children would be treated to a double feature at the movie house, with money for a beverage and buttered popcorn. Onc