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Story 1: Life in Appalachia. A passion project of mine. It's a place near and dear to my heart having grown up in North Carolina. “Barack Obama strikes at the heart of our deepest insecurities. He is a good father while many of us aren’t. He wears suits to his job while we wear overalls, if we’re lucky enough to have a job at all. His wife tells us that we shouldn’t be feeding our children certain foods, and we hate her for it—not because we think she’s wrong but because we know she’s right." J.D. Vance. Appalachia is simple yet complicated. It's a paradox on many levels. It's the brunt of many jokes; yet It's revered for deep heritage and rich traditions. It's vibrant fall foliage is unmatched; yet its drab remnants of coal mining and old factories scar much of the small towns and mountaintops. It's prideful yet envious. It isolates itself yet complains about not being heard. The list goes on. What you see is what you get. Many homes and yards have you questioning if you are still in America. Yes...you are. This exists. Through it all, it remains etched in my soul and is part of the American experience.

Junk Doctor

Story 2: Life in Appalacha. Meet Lee. The self ascribed Junk Doctor. A congenial yes mam/sir kinda guy that carries a King James Bible with him wherever he goes. He proudly hails from Beckley, West Virginia. Now, he finds himself in Simpson, Pennsylvania working at Hoarder's Haven. A store that lives up to its name. The entire building is jammed with pretty much anything and everything, and there is just enough room to walk through the narrow paths. "I was a coal miner back home, but they were shutting down, and I wanted to get out. " He found his way to northeastern Pennsylvania where has been for 3 years. He still proudly dons his West Virginia hat and has an affinity towards sharpening knives and re-purposing what some might consider junk. "The more you buy the cheaper it is because I need to get rid of some of this shit." He's a charming and just a genuinely good human. When asked about Trump's election, he said, "He's a dumbass, but he's re-opened 11 coal mines back home." Lee and I couldn't be more different on many levels from our background to our political and religious beliefs. On paper, we wouldn't be seen in the same room, but you know what? I respect him. He is a wonderful human who might have different views but has integrity and values. The more we put ourselves out there and curiously peak our heads in places that might seem "different," the more we connect with each other. If you by chance find yourself in Simpson, Pennsylvania, stop by Hoarder's Haven and have a chat with Lee.

Shine Hauler

Story 3: Life In Appalachia. The Shine Hauler. An ode to rebellion and right of passage in Appalachia. Deep in the hills of Eastern Tennessee, I came across this original bootlegging vehicle which had it's own still for making moonshine. Moonshine could and can be made from anything fermentable. At it's nascent roots in the U.S., it's origins are traced to Pennsylvania and other states producing grain. In 1920 nationwide Prohibition went into effect. Organized crime syndicates became heavily involved in the illegal production and movement of moonshine. Anything for a profit. Vehicles like this one became the peddlers for illegal distribution. Mechanics began modifying cars beefing up their engines and creating hidden storage spaces to outrun the cops and carry the liquor. When running from the cops, these folks became quite adept drivers, and on their days off they would race each other often in the hills of Appalachia. This eventually led to the origin of NASCAR which present day is wildly popular in the region and worldwide. The rebellious spirit of Appalachia lives on and is ingrained into the fabric of this pocket of America.

Downtown

Story 4: Life In Appalachia. Downtown. Beautiful bones. Antiquated. Eerily quiet. Vacant. A dying pulse but still beating. Furniture storefronts beckon to yesteryear. A smattering of churches with their messages of hope inscribed on their signs out front, a funeral home that seems to be the busiest place in town along with the fast food-joints that flank the downtown core. A lone military recruitment office. A bank. A couple bars. A small unkempt communiuty park with one see-saw and a swing-set. A derelict factory with blown out glass and crumbling chimneys. American Flags on every light pole. In its heyday of the early 1900s, Appalachia employed over 700,000 people in the coal industry. Now that number is around 40,000. With the downfall of coal mining in the 1940s, Appalachian towns took a direct hit. Poverty rates skyrocketed to some of the highest in the nation. Those with any sort of education moved out seeking better opportunities. Today, just like the outdated stores, the people are trying to hold onto a life that once was. For many, progress isn't in the vernacular resulting in much of Appalachia being left behind and isolated. Trump promised to bring back coal and revitalize these towns, but it seemingly only hinders their future. Ironically, in a place that's been neglected, there seems to be a superfluous number of American flags flying. Clinging on to that heartbeat. What will the future hold? It seems prosperity and change will stem from homegrown efforts. In my time in Appalachia, I've seen a strong, prideful and resilient group of younger folks working together and reflecting beyond themselves and their respective towns. They think across county lines, state lines and even global borders

Amish

Story 5: Life in Appalachia. Amish. Driven by a belief system that teaches to receive salvation, one must break from worldly sin laid out by the Ordnung (set of rules and order). They reject Hochmut (pomposity) and condone Demut (humility) and Gelassenheit (hesitation to be assertive). Dating back to 1693, the forefathers split from the Mennonites. They are distinctly known for their simple way of life, austere fashion, pacifism and hesitation to adapt to the modern world. Driving along in Tompkinsville, Kentucky, we saw an Amish man (Abel) and his two horses trotting down the road. We stopped to chat, and he explained that his horses were "growing a bit weary" and frequently stopping to eat after the long journey. Abel said he was alright with a photo as long as it wasn't posed and a close up of his face. He was on his return leg and about 8 miles from home. He explained that each way was 16 miles from his house to town. He asked "Where are you from?" we replied, "Colorado," A succinct head nod and he stoically responded "Wow," and with that, he was off. We wished each other a safe journey, and we went on our respective ways. It's easy to romanticize the Amish. On paper, they live a simple life with integrity, conviction and selflessness; however, they have come under fire by many accusations and incidents of rape, incest and animal abuse. Infamously, Chester Mast of Missouri pleaded guilty to rape and sodomy of a child. Additionally, David Yoder was accused of killing 93 dogs in a makeshift gas chamber where he hooked a hose up to an engine after declining to vaccinate his animals per order of the Department of Agriculture. The population has exploded over the past decades. Estimates hover around 300,000 in North American and Canada. Another fascinatingly complex society found in the hills of Appalachia.

Relics of a Coal Miner

Story 6. Life in Appalachia. Relics of a coal miner. A sense of indignation with an injection of pride and a tight-knit fraternity. Local soccer championship trophies next to gear that has seen true darkness and rigors of a miner's life. Long arduous hours spent underground led to really appreciating leisure time and sports above ground in open air. Coal mining in the United States can be traced back 1300s by the Hopi tribe for firing pottery and heating fuel. The Europeans began largely mining it in Virginia in the 1740s. It quickly became the nation's largest source of power. In the early 1900s, coal would account for over 75% of energy. Long hours in darkness, the inherent risks of shafts collapsing, injury or breathing in noxious coal and silica dust in shafts reduced the average lifespan by an expected 10-15 years. Coal miners have and do sacrifice their life for their children and family. Job opportunities in Appalachia regions remain sparse. Many continue to risk their lives; however, with prices of natural gas falling in 2010 and more focus on clean energies, there is stiff competition to coal. Trump has said he will bring back coal mining, but it's not viable in the long-term. In 2014, solar energy grew by 22% and gas and oil decreased by 18%. Appalachia has been hit hard, but it's time for them to take a good honest hard look into the future. Deep roots and pride are hard to sever. Change can feel threatening and unfair, but if the region wants to keep up, it must look into diversification of jobs and alternate energy sources. Let relics be relics. Homages to deep traditions, reverence for the myriad lives lost and respect to our nation's history. Hopefully increasingly, those helmets remain hung up in the windows and not deep down in the bowels of the earth. Fill windows with more sports trophies from above ground.

Webb Brothers

Opened in May of 1936 when brothers Harold and Oliver couldn't find work during the Great Depression, the business supplied goods and gas to the community of Reliance, Tennessee along the banks of the Hiwasee River. It later became the Post Office too. Today, the business is still in operation selling goods, gas, raft rentals and even offers a guesthouse. It's a famous landmark in the region and many stop by who are traveling through on Highway 30.

Paducah Chevy

Paducah, Kentucky, a city filled with a deep history. At the confluence of the Ohio and Tennessee Rivers, in 2013 it was named by UNESCO as a Creative City of Crafts and Folk Art. It's famous for it's beautiful "Wall to Wall" floodgate murals, it's quilts and Paducah School of Art and Design. However, it's a city that seems to have fallen on hard times much like many river towns and areas in the region.

If These Walls Could Talk

An old abandoned home on a country road outside of Tompkinsville, Kentucky. If these walls could talk, they would have so many stories to tell. Often in Appalachia you come across abandoned buildings where kudzoo and vines have taken over creating a very eerie feel.

Draped

The Tennessee state flag draped over a whiskey barrel with the America Flag proudly displayed in a small building on the Jack Daniels Distillery grounds.

Cross

Churches are aplenty in Appalachia. Nearly every corner has one. They are part of the social and cultural landscape.

Walk on The Farm

Old Number 7

Tasting room at Jack Daniels Distillery in Lynchburg, Tennessee. Old Number 7 Jack Daniels Whiskey has become synonymous with Appalachia and around the globe. In 1941, the Federal Government recognized the title Tennessee Whiskey. It's different from other American whiskeys because it is filtered through layers of sugar-maple charcoal. The name Old Number 7 is a mystery. Nobody knows exactly where it came from as Jack Daniels took the secret with him to the grave. Today, the whiskey is sold in 165 countries and all of it is made in Lynchburg, a dry county in central Tennessee.

Entangled Falls

Ronnie

Marshall Cafe

Coming to say Hello

Collision of Colors

Jack Daniels Tasting

Late Fall Glow

Southern Porch

Entangled Barn

Hidden Falls