Even after coming down from the Appalachian mountains where my great-great granparents and all else prior called home, my family retained many of the cultural aspects of the Appalachian people. The first of my family to come down from on high in the mountains in favor of the beautiful piedmont region was the Easler family matriarch, Lillian Turner Easler, my great-grandmother.
As the matriarch, she raised us all to have many of the cultural values that still hold true among the Southern Highlanders, one of which reflects very highly in importance in my family, that being making things with our hands.
This act, according to her was meant to be a fulfilling activity that feeds the soul and mends our troubles. She spent many of her abled years making many quilts which I have had to keep put up to save them from damages.
Her sons, my grandfather Sam and great-uncle Paul were drafted in Vietnam during the heat of the war, and Paul saw the worst of it. After returning from the brutality, he found solace in making canes, one of which I keep in my room both as a memento and for when I feel the worst of my days.
My mother, despite not descending from the mountain people, has adopted many of our cultural traditions, and regularly makes pottery and other works of art that carries with it a southern flair. Much of her photography works to capture the traditions and practices of our culture in time.
I—sort of broke that trend. Being less confident of my abilities, I retreated into digital realms where there was a lot less “making” by traditional and cultural extents. My brother and sister, however, continue the family traditions, building and making things with their hands which requires a skillset that I could never accomplish myself. I remember when my brother was younger and he desperately wanted a bow and arrows like the people on the retro TV shows that came on during the weekends. My parents, of course, turned him down and he asked if he could, instead, make one himself, as many kids may try to do. They encouraged him to give it a go, and he came back with a bow that was capable of firing further than any kids bow they could have gotten him. My parents quickly realized their mistake.
My sister is of the same creative soul. When she started at the same welding shop my brother worked at, the bossman found that she was capable of making parts and building trailers faster and more efficient than most of the longtime staff, and quickly rose through the shop’s ranks. Even after a couple years in the shop, she doesn’t seem to grow bored of her work and the art she makes for others.
Five to six days a week, she and my brother start from the ground up, making parts for, building, painting, and shipping out orders of their works, and still finding joy in it. I myself was always very clumsy with my hands, and never really made much of anything outside of the digital realm. But to the rest of my family, to create is to be connected to our ancestral way of life, to connect us and ground us with a history that is intertwined with tradition. And while I myself never found myself capable or needing to be connected to these traditions in the same way my brother and sister have, it warms this academic’s heart to see them find joy in creation. And if nothing else, I can appreciate the linear life of tradition even at a distance.
