Hillbilly Elegy

Jack Deatherage, Jr.

(8/2018) I had to look up the definition of "elegy". "Elegy is a form of literature that can be defined as a poem or song in the form of elegiac couplets, written in honor of someone deceased. It typically laments or mourns the death of the individual." -Literary Devices. (I don't understand the definition either.)

Elegiac couplets? "The elegiac couplet is a poetic form used by Greek lyric poets for a variety of themes usually of smaller scale than the epic. … Each couplet consists of a hexameter verse followed by a pentameter verse. The following is a graphic representation of its scansion." -Wikipedia

Whatever. J. D. Vance's book, "Hillbilly Elegy" is one of those "smacks upside me head" that first infuriates me, then produces the rare "ah-ha" moment I tend to avoid if possible. I've been to the Deatherage home place among the hills of north-east Tennessee, and I was raised by one who left those hills to eventually deposit me in this place. So my life has paralleled Mr. Vance's in some aspects, unfortunately right down to watching his town decay as a major employer of factory workers began to layoff people due to changing economies- on through the rise of welfare dependent families and the general community's embracing ever expanding drug addiction.

I don't recall his solution to the on going problem (because I'm lazy and won't reread the end of the book), but it sticks in mind that he advocated support organizations of community leaders: pastors, teachers, extended family members and caring neighbors working as a whole to further the educations of the youth of his hometown. He also placed high value on his military training and service, which taught him self-discipline and gave him the confidence to tackle any task.

His expectations of a town putting all that into practice were about as low as mine are, but that impression is likely mine overruling his. However, his idea meshed with something I've been thinking on since first learning about another author, Derek Sivers- decamillionaire and founder of CDBaby.com.

When Derek sold his company for twenty-two million dollars he made known among his peers, customers and fans that he was open to financially backing ideas that furthered educational opportunities- primarily in the music world. One request for assistance stuck in my head because it jibed with a fantasy I occupied myself with while pulling a lever repeatedly, for hours a day, at the factory.

The request was for two million dollars to fund a private school in a neighborhood underserved by its public school system. Derek's response was, "How many students are you currently teaching?"

As not even one child was being tutored, Derek turned down the request. His reasoning being along this line- if there wasn't dedication and effort enough to begin teaching without two million dollars involved, how would the money make a difference?

In my daydreams, the school I envision eats sixty million dollars to build and supply, plus at least another two million a year for staffing. Obviously, I won't be arguing with county code enforcers, zoning boards or inspectors anytime soon. So how do I go about building an Emmitsburg community school? (I need to come up with a word other than "school" for this project. I did not thrive in school, hated it from the first day to the last, though I continue to love learning. Not that I retain much, but still.)

Anyways, I'd build a garden by myself, on my dime (which really means- with DW's help and her dime, since I'm not allowed to carry dimes, let alone paper money). Then I'd invite the public to take a look at it and hope one or two people would show enough interest in the project to ask if they could help. From there the rest follows- community garden to market garden to specialty gardens to starting businesses that spin off the gardens.

Tattoo Don -Supreme Leader, curious to see how long I could run in a circle chasing my tail, suggested I write a proposal for a community market garden and present it to the town council. Since we only fish or sling arrows a few hours a week, and I can only manage so many hours of napping elsewhen, I figured I might as well take a stab at ordering such a thing on paper. A month of researching, writing, Don reading and commenting, me rewriting, Don rereading and suggesting, me rewriting and finally handing the proposal to a commissioner resulted in my learning the farm I hoped to access, which is owned by the town, is locked up in lease agreements that don't expire for at least another two years.

I can't claim to be crushed by news of the leases. Sixty-four years of sometimes paying attention have taught me that no plan remains intact when confronted with reality. What I can claim is hearing the gods howl, once again, with laughter. This time they waited for me to create the garden proposal and submit it before word reached me that my friend and garlic guru, Marda, had died two days after telling the DW and me that this would be her last year for growing garlic. She would likely shut down her tea and herb shop as well.

The guru had discussed teaching me not only the cultivation of garlic, but the marketing of it- which she considered more difficult, at least for me. She'd offered to copy her gardening records, contact information on other garlic growers and suppliers as well as her husband's contacts at Penn State, and let me use them to get my own business started. There was a hint of my getting access to her tea and herbal blend recipes as well as her herb and spice suppliers should she ever close the shop- all of which is now lost to me. The laughter of multiple gods echo in my head.

Undaunted, (yes, I'm that damned stupid) the ideas keep churning. Marda's moving on has left a void, not only in my short list of friends, but of retail shops in this region. If I want specific types and cultivars of garlic I now have to order them online from people I don't know, or care about. Same goes for the custom herb/spice blends she mixed for her customers. Worse, the community market garden idea has mentally morphed into a supplier of raw materials for a tea/herb shop as well as a chandler's perfumery, both stores fronting somewhere along Main Street. They would have been destination shops that could have lured some of the thousand or so people passing through our burg every day to stop and peruse the offerings, and perhaps to unlimber their wallets.

Now I wait for suitable land to garden while I contemplate saponification, culinary herbology, chandlery and Tapputi-Belatekallim (a perfume-maker mentioned in a cuneiform tablet dated around 1200 BC in Babylonian Mesopotamia- she's believed to be the first chemist of record), but not elegiac couplets, or graphic representations of scansion- which I never bothered to look up the meaning of.