Where I Come From
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Try to tell me a West Virginia joke I haven't heard. Go on...I'll wait. It's hilarious; I get it. How do I have shoes? And teeth? And I married someone who isn't my brother? These jokes are so novel! I proudly went to West Virginia University and bleed old gold and blue. No, I've never burned a couch. It's just too easy for you, isn't it? Last week I finished reading a book about hillbilly culture. Before reading it I would vehemently argue that I am not a hillbilly. Despite having a lovely, safe childhood in a town that was idyllic in a lot of ways, I've fought back against where I come from. It's not because I'm not proud of it, but it's because from the time I was a child I thought I was more. Ultimately that's what hillbilly parents (and all parents) want for their children: more than they had. I was raised by two kick ass parents, a coal miner and homemaker, who worked their tails off so that our lives were easy. My three siblings...