12/17/2011
This Christmas we decided it was time to go south for the winter – with Atlanta as our main objective. To get in the southern spirit instead of saying things I tried to do declare them. I do declare I tried it once before Laura murdered me.
During our six-hour drive that first day we passed by a lot of our old haunts – Cincinnati, London, the Kentucky Horse Farm, Berea… We feel like we’re becoming fairly well versed in our local area, but it was nice to cross the border into Tennessee and some truly unexplored territory.
The Museum of Appalachia is the largest site in the world dedicated to Appalachian culture. I expected my stereotypes to be challenged, but what we got were streets and streets of wooden shacks, painstakingly moved log by log and then rebuilt so they can fall apart here instead of wherever they originally came from.
The oddest in the collection was the log cabin of Mark Twain’s parents. America’s most famous wit never lived there, but we are promised he was conceived there. Chalk up “the conception of Mark Twain” as one historical event I never even wanted to think about.
Laura and I had a heated argument over whether a building that has been disassembled, moved, and then rebuilt somewhere else was in actuality really still the same building. Laura says no, I say yes, but the kids didn’t comment. They spent most of their time chasing the wild peacocks that roamed the complex.
Despite my flippancy it was hard not to be intrigued by the whole concept. One building that struck me was a Port-a-potty sized shack in which its occupant willingly and happily lived in until his death until 1989. If one stereotype was addressed, it was definitely the idea that “Appalachian life” exclusively belongs to bygone days. Another interesting exhibit featured the work of an itinerant preacher who travelled the country leaving behind giant stone carvings featuring his evangelical message.
The museum is basically a love letter from one man (founder John Rice Irwin) to a way of life he saw dying around him. Most of the displays are labeled with his handwritten notes, peppered with his personal anecdotes. Although we thought the price was a bit steep for entry ($14 a person), I have to respect one man’s passion to preserve something he clearly cared deeply about.
On the way out of the parking lot Laura got herself into her very first fender bender. She backed into someone’s truck. There was no one around, so she went into the visitor center and left our information. There was no damage to the other vehicle, but we wanted to be honest. These are the kinds of “fun” experiences family vacations are all about.
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