My mother’s family grew up on the west bank of the Tygart River in north central West Virginia. My great grandparents used this land as a summer camp: a place to ride horses named Honey and Chief; a place to host parties; a place to plant flower bulbs from Holland. My grandfather spent most of his childhood working the land for his parents. While his older brother slept late and hung out with friends, my grandfather smoothed the seams between land and water, covering them with the mortar of home. To the day he died, my grandfather was a hard worker.
