The hotel I
had chosen a few days before was just two highway exits before downtown. It
wasn’t lavish, but very clean and comfortable. It was at check-in that I
experienced my first taste of southern hospitality. The kind woman behind the
desk looked me in the eyes, smiled, and called me ‘honey.’ To some, this may
not be a huge deal, but as familiar as I had become with the anonymity of the higher
population density of New Jersey, it was like a breath of fresh air. I
immediately felt welcomed and appreciated, and I was in a considerably better
mood for the rest of the evening.
It was
getting late and I was unsure of where I should go for dinner, so I went to
Harding’s Family Restaurant next door. It was less than an hour before closing
time, so I was a little nervous when I walked in and half-expected to be
treated like an inconvenience. Much to my surprise, the waitress was just as
welcoming as the lady at the front desk, and could not have been friendlier. It
occurred to me that my apprehension comes from growing up in the Tri
-State area,
where it is an unspoken rule to avoid going to any restaurant too close to
closing time for fear of being treated poorly. Once again, I felt an
overwhelming sense of relief to be in an area where hospitality and kindness
comes before personal convenience. Sure enough, my meal was excellent, and I
returned to my room with a renewed faith in the compassion of the human race.
The next morning I returned to the
same restaurant for breakfast, feeling optimistic after my positive experience
the night before. It was mid-morning and the place was packed. I ordered a
standard breakfast of eggs and bacon, and when the waitress brought the meal
over, she took a look at the bacon, and asked if it was crispy enough, because
she could bring it right back if I would like it a little more done. Again, I
was surprised by how attentive she was. I have never had a waitress make
absolutely sure I was happy with what I ordered before moving on to her next
table. She did not have to make the effort, but I could tell that she really
wanted me to have an enjoyable meal. After eating, with a full stomach and a
positive attitude, I set out for Charleston.
I drove down to the Capitol building,
just a short distance from my hotel. It was situated in a square that was about
three city blocks in size. The complex housed a memorial for the major wars of
the twentieth century, the Capitol, the State Museum, and various other state
government buildings. In the front of the State House, which faces the canal, a
large statue of Abraham Lincoln surveyed the street with wise serenity. The
inscription read, “Abraham Lincoln Created the State of West Virginia by
Proclamation and Signature.” And beneath that, “West Virginia Joined the Union
June 20th, 1863.” When I see any depiction of Lincoln, I always get the
impression he is about to say something incredibly profound. This statue was
particularly moving, because without him, neither the ground that I was
standing on nor the building behind his frozen form would be a part of the state
of West Virginia.
As I
learned from the two friendly women at the tour information desk, there were no
guided tours available that day, but I was free to walk around as I pleased. I
soon discovered that they were doing some sort of painting or restoration work
in the Senate chamber, and I could not see any of it at all. The House of
Delegates Chamber was traditional for a State House, not overly decorated, and
quite unremarkable. The rest of the building, at least what I saw of it, was a
simple reflection of its state. The inside of the dome was painted a plain
royal blue with skylights at the top to illuminate the rotunda. An enormous
chandelier with countless lights hangs from the center of the dome, and I could
only imagine the ordeal it must be to maintain and clean it, let alone replace
a light bulb. The walls were of plain stone without much decoration, and
although the dome has the same dwarfing effect that most do, it was not
particularly appealing.
I left the State House and walked down a
shaded sidewalk to the State Museum. It turned out that that West Virginia State Museum was far more informative and interesting than the State House
itself. There one can learn about West Virginia’s unique path to statehood
during the Civil War. The people of Virginia wanted to secede from the Union,
but the communities in the western portion of the Commonwealth felt
differently. With Lincoln’s approval in April of 1863, West Virginia became its
own state two months later, shortly before the Battle of Gettysburg. It is the
only state that formed by seceding from a Confederate state. Because of the
political nature of its formation, and its location, West Virginia reflected some
of the deepest cultural divisions over the Civil War and its history. Despite
this turbulence, many citizens in the region were adamant in their wish to
remain in the Union.
The culture
and attitude of West Virginians is also evident in their state motto. In Latin,
Montani Semper Liberi means
‘Mountaineers are always free.’ Joseph H. Diss Debar, the same man who designed
the state seal, suggested it as the state motto. It is difficult to think of a
phrase that could better encapsulate the ideals of West Virginians; rather than
be forced into seceding from the Union to perpetuate the practice of slavery,
West Virginia became its own state in order to claim its independence and that
of its African American residents. It is
an impeccable example of American autonomy that the rest of the nation should
be proud of.
After
exploring both the Capitol and the museum, I was ravenous. Just a block away
from the Capitol Complex was a restaurant called the Bluegrass Kitchen. As I
walked around the building from where I parked, I noticed a sign in the window
that read, “West Virginia is No Place for Hate.” For me, it summed up
everything I had learned about the state thus far. In one of the most
tumultuous times in our history, West Virginia felt so strongly about the
rights of people, the importance of equality, and the value of maintaining the
Union that it seceded from a Confederate state. Other southern states had
similar divisions, like East Tennessee and central Texas, but only West
Virginia broke apart over it.
It was the
late afternoon and the restaurant wasn’t very busy, but there were a few tables
of smiling people enjoying their meals, laughing, and conversing with each
other. Modern paintings decorated the walls, each one composed in a slightly
different style than the last. Right behind the table I was sitting at, there
was a handwritten list of titles and their corresponding prices. The ceiling
seemed unusually high for a restaurant, and had a kind of industrial pattern to
it. None of the individual elements of the room seemed like they would go
together, but somehow there was harmony that is difficult to describe. It was a
perfect example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts.
My mind was still turning over the
discoveries of the day, and I was somewhat absent minded when the waiter came
to the table. He must have picked up on my mood, because he was not very
talkative either, but he was kind and professional. When he returned with my
soda, and I ordered the chicken tostada, he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, good choice!
That’s my favorite! I eat way too many of those.” He smiled, looked me right in
the eyes, and laughed in a very real and uninhibited way. I felt like we shared
an authentic moment of familiarity, almost as if I had made a new friend that
easily. To me, that moment encapsulated all of the interactions I had
experienced since entering West Virginia. It was as if every person I spoke to
was a friend that I hadn’t met yet. I could definitely get used to this.
After a
very satisfying meal, I was walking out of the restaurant just in time to see a
band setting up. I was disappointed that I missed the show, but the time
constraints of my travels demanded that I move on. Dragging my feet back to the
car, I spotted a young man sitting in a little red car with the back seat loaded
to ceiling with drums, and I asked him if he was playing at the Bluegrass
Kitchen. He chuckled and said that he was going to a practice session nearby,
and that he used to play with this one band regularly, but they broke up years
ago. He explained that an owner of a local venue begged them to do a reunion
show for Halloween. A sheepish grin crept onto his face, and I wish him luck for the show.
I hit the road, turned up the
music, and headed toward Kentucky. The setting sun smoldered above the horizon,
lighting up the countryside with golden rays. As the day came to a close,
another state welcomed me into its borders.
To see the entire photo album for Charleston, West Virginia
visit my Facebook page.
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