Hosting Again: The Appalachian Experience
The De-briefing
When I got the email from my Floyd friend and facility manager at Apple Ridge asking me to meet once again as graybeard ambassador with spring-breaking students from St. Joseph's University, I froze in place like a deer in the headlights. Was I even that person anymore--after so many months (now years) of pandemic isolation and smothering protection from each other?
My first response was to just say no. I don't have anything knowledge to share or any residual competency to pretend to know whatever it was I used to say to or be in the midst of those students, spending the middle week of March at Apple Ridge Farm.
And so I told her that I would not say no right away, but give me a while to revisit, if I could, the former Fred who did not hesitate to meet and talk about the water or forests or geology or natural history of Floyd County and the New River Valley. It seemed so remotely past and nearly forgotten.
What did come to mind right away, in my indecision, was the memory of what respectful and appreciative students these young adults had been--maybe six batches of them over the years. They come with a mission—to learn and be changed as much as to serve.
This year's student-guests at Apple Ridge were also participating in the APEX program at St. Jo's--the Appalachian Experience. This is the same campus ministry whose students SustainFloyd hosted with in our Voluntours project that ran maybe four consecutive Marches, and that final year we called it the FLEX program: The Floyd Experience
With the prompt of this invitation, I began to revisit my former teacher; to page through the audio-visuals, the mind maps, the followup writing and photos from those past events. I accepted the fact that I have become a shrunken head of a teacher, of a public presence; and if I said YES, maybe I could rehydrate and plump back out into the more fully-engaged me I once was. Maybe it was possible.
So you might have guessed that I would not be writing about this if I had said NO, and withered and pulled back into my covid cocoon. And this week--on March 15--I did travel 221N towards Bent Mountain, then down Copper Hill Road, winding its way to Apple Ridge
Briefly, it went OK-ish. I did not go in this time with a fully-planned or canned program. I would not take on the angst of hoping a digital projector and its dongles and switches would work at the moment of need. Been there, done that. So no machine. No screens. No script. Just me. No net.
And even though this was not the best plan, because of who these students are and the mission of the program in which they serve, they were kindly tolerant of the dead ends; the topic switching; and the fact that I could not understand them behind masks. (I did not wear one--a stipulation of accepting the invitation.) So we were in a large meeting room, and the students sat (on impossibly small cushions) in a wide semi-circle.
The acoustics were not great; the masks muffled their questions and comments; and I was treading water rather than swimming as we talked all over the map of writing, of the importance of nature literacy, and their global and local hopes confronting their time on the stage. As I have done with some of the past groups, I gave them all a signed copy of my second book--a much better fate than showing up in a large box in the closet after my time is done here. Better in the hands of readers than in the local landfill.
And since, I have sent them a page that includes some of the authors and terms and topics we talked about, since no one was taking notes. I told them that they "have homework" from this supplemental page. Perhaps a student or two will benefit. It is just my pedagogical habit to hope some one thing resonates along the way. And sure enough, that does happen occasionally.
I debriefed on the 45 minute drive home, and as usual, gave myself middling marks on my effectiveness. And as usual, there seems to be a less critical appraisal of the evening from the students, by report from Apple Ridge.
Tomorrow (FRIDAY) they will come to the town of Floyd for cultural immersion that just might include clogging (or some facsimile thereof) at the Floyd Country Store. I hope they go back to Philly with good memories, and some new geographic, cultural and life-goal landmarks from their travels.
And one more thing: In June, SustainFloyd will host its own program of immersion in place and nature. It is called "Coming Home to the Living Earth." I think there are still places available. You do not have to be a student to attend. Grandparents welcomed!
It will be centered at Spikenard Honey Bee Sanctuary and Riverstone Organic Farm in Floyd county.
And so I have stuck my turtle head out of my protective shell, and I was not terrified or threatened or humiliated. Maybe I can re-inhabit more of me, even at 74, and think again about what used to make life rich and energizing and fulfilling in relationship to people and place.
We will see what the public health of future gathering allows. And no matter, it’s time I got myself rehabbed as a gardener, friend, writer, civic participant and citizen of more than my own desiccated and quarantined world. And isn't SPRING just a great time for doing that! We’ll see how it goes.
You haven't lost a thing, Fred. Keep going!
I enjoyed reading the Wendell Berry quotes. Thank you for those links. I am so glad you didn’t say no to the invitation, and that you just shot from the hip and didn’t really prepare a lot.