Our independence it tempered by our basic belief in neighborliness and hospitality. Survival on the frontier sometimes required people to be hospitable, to take people in when night caught them on a journey or keep them indefinitely if their house burned down. Until recent times, neighbors joined in to help build houses and barns for those who needed them. No greater compliment could be paid a mountain family than that they were “clever folks,” meaning that they were quick to invite you to visit and generous with the food. My father told of eating at one home where the only food was sorghum and corn bread, but the host said graciously, “just reach and get anything you want.”
Those receiving hospitality were expected to reciprocate. In the ballad, “Jesse James,” known throughout the mountains, the most damning thing said about “that dirty little coward” Robert Ford who shot Jesse was that,
He ate of Jesse’s bread, and
he slept in Jesse’s bed,
Yet he laid poor Jesse in his grave.
We who were brought up on the value of hospitality will always have the urge to invite those who visit to stay for a meal or to spend the night, even though this is not the custom over much of America now, unless a formal invitation is sent out well in advance.”
—Appalachian Values written by Loyal Jones
The excerpt from Appalachian Values reminds me of how we always try to feed people when they come for a visit. It also reminds me of the wonderful generosity from all areas that has been shown to those suffering from hurricane Helene. Please continue to remember all the people struggling in prayer and also those who are giving aid.
Today’s Thankful November giveaway is a used copy of Appalachian Values written by Loyal Jones. To be entered in the giveaway leave a comment on this post. Giveaway ends November 10, 2024.
Tipper
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My Mamasnd Daddy always welcomed guest and naturally they were going to be fed and take something home from the garden.
I would love to read this book. Thank you for sharing!
My Dad was from the Midwest my Mom from TN. My southern relatives definitely showed their love and hospitality through food. No one could make fried chicken like my maternal grandmother!
Old stories like this make me yearn even more the old times like that.
I remember as a child running in and out of neighbors homes, meals at grandmas house, all kinds of gatherings…today, if someone knocks on our door, we step outside to see what they need, if we even answer..We can’t allow our kids in anyone else’s home for fear of what might happen to them. Families hardly speak to one another,much less gather together….where did the simpler times go?
I very much enjoyed today’s post! Hospitality is very much the norm in North Carolina. I look forward to your posts everyday.
This brings back many memories of always welcoming people to the table whenever they visited.
when I was a kid–many many years ago–just a few miles from us lived a gentleman who made sorghum and daddy would at some point make a special trip to buy 3 or 4 gallon or more sized jugs (he always gave one jug away to somebody-my grandparents or a neighbor). the jugs were a see through green and I think at one time they must have been used to put homemade booze in as the opening was no bigger around than a quarter or little larger with the glass having been molded down from the opening with a round finger hole (hold) for slipping your finger through it and hoist it up on your arm in order to tip it up to your mouth to take a drink, often a cork was used rather than a lid—I poorly described the action I am sure you have seen done before with these types of jugs especially in old westerns…..on that same sorghum ‘run’ daddy would go on down the road a few more miles and get two fifty pound toesack bags of peanuts–again he gave one away and we kept one….so now we were set for the winter to have enough sorghum for our biscuits and cornbread for 9 people, and peanuts for roasting on special nights as a great snack and of course mama used some of the raw peanuts for making brittle come Christmas time. Long after the old man who made sorghum died and I was growing up you could still see the wood though slightly falling apart from the ‘mill’ I presume it is called where the mule would walk around and aroung in endless circles until all the grinding was done and in my minds eye I see it still today and could probably take you to the exact spot in his pasture where it stood….many jugs of goodness came out of that man and mule’s hard work to delight tastebuds all around our county
I remember the time when neighbors would help out one another. I am proud to say the native neighbors in my area still do this and expect nothing in return except your willingness to help them out if they ever need you. Almost 50 years ago, I helped a man get up his hay (square bales) of hay and would not take any pay even though a few extra dollars would have been handy. Many years later he helped me out with something and when I tried to pay him he would not except any pay. He said he remembered the time I helped him. I think God wants us to have this type of attitude of helping out one another. I would love to read this book, I will be putting this on my list of books to buy. Reading is one of the things I still enjoy doing.