Share the joy of West Virginia
We should make sure we don’t just sing about Country Roads, but talk them up so folks find them for themselves.
We take what is present for granted.
The blanket of green that falls across the hills of West Virginia over time becomes as normal as the blue sky, and just as taken for granted. That endless green is just there, always there, in the summer, exploding in color in the fall, brown in the winter, and blooming in the spring as the green returns.
The rivers and creeks run mostly where they always have. Those country roads we sing about constantly need repaired, but hug all the curves in mostly the same places as they have for a long time, sometimes with an extra lane here or there; sometimes with extra support when the mountain claims chunks of road back and moves them.
“Older than the hills” is an existential gospel, both a creed and a hope, a lament that things we can’t change won’t and the things we want changed will be. Emphasize the lovely, downplay the dark and dusty. Hope for the tourists, pray they don’t change anything but the economy. Take pride in the struggle, while constantly complaining about the struggle. It is, and was, and so shall ever be, or something. All along the same stretches of roads passing the same people…
