The Apple Tree Church
I’m still writing down the testimonies of our Appalachian family. These are about murder, gingerbread, washing day, quilts, saving, singing, and a bunch of children making a church among the apple trees. It was a place that Dad and I both knew, in our own ways. With Dad on the steps of the Chambers Building, Davidson College, North Carolina. Dad dressed exactly like this his whole life. I still make this face. A tribute to my Dad followed by a new song and a word about Appalachia. Even though my Dad passed away eight years ago today, it doesn’t feel much easier not being able to pick up the phone and call him. When someone is your family’s compass, you’re bound to feel like an aimless wanderer when they escape the clay and sail up to the firmament. Each year, when this anniversary comes around, I feel I want to do something for Dad. I want to mark his flight into Heaven. Sometimes, I’ve been able to see this through. Other times, I was just grateful to get through the day quietly. Wh
