Describe Where You Feel Most Perfectly Content...
Imagine working on your hands and knees for eight hours a day scraping up multiple layers of ancient vinyl flooring. The archaic adhesive on the seemingly endless dirt caked tiles has managed to bind so well it is almost impossible to differentiate one tile from the next. You’re sharing a cramped work space with six other people, the only “air conditioning” is a fan which looks like it could be from the 1970’s, and the temperature outside is exceeding ninety degrees. Moreover, the pungent smell of sewage effortlessly permeates your porous face mask. To the average person, such a scenario might resemble a tenth layer of hell added to Dante’s Inferno. Yet, it was in this environment I found a contentment I would have never imagined.
For the past two summers, I’ve participated in Appalachian Service Project which is a nonprofit organization that brings high school students, typically through a local church, to various parts of the Appalachian region to help repair and build homes. My first summer was spent in Dickenson County, Virginia, replacing the flooring in the mobile home of a widow named Elle*. Initially, I was apprehensive at the thought of performing hard labor eight hours a day for a week. However, when greeted at the work site by Elle’s father, firebrand Mason*, my trepidation turned to eagerness for the week ahead. His warm welcome and sassy wit immediately made us feel right at home. To our benefit, Mason was also a master carpenter who built his own house, and was consequently able to guide us through all the constructions. Throughout the week, we cleaned out the hoarded home, scraped up three layers of vinyl tiles older than any of the teenage volunteers, replaced waterlogged sections of base flooring, and began laying fresh layers of flooring.
We were surprised and grateful when numerous members of the family came to help with the repairs; the most frequent visitors being Sean, Colin, Sally, and even a litter of puppies. The highlight of each day was spending time with them and enjoying Sean’s homemade sassafras tea, Sally’s huge catfish biscuits, Colin’s angelic singing, and Mason’s constant wisecracking; his favorite trick was sneaking up on us with his whittled snakehead cane yelling, “SNAKE!” Mason also shared a plethora of stories ranging from impoverishment to mountain lion hunting to coal miner riots. Eventually, he shared Elle’s heartbreaking story of how her late husband had imprisoned her in the house during their 27 years of marriage. To add to her misery, he was a hoarder and shut the water off in their home during the last three years of his life. No water meant no plumbing; ergo, there was an accumulation of human waste which Sean and Colin mercifully disposed of before we arrived. Hearing her story opened our eyes to how the family remained joyful and maintained a zest for life in the midst of serious struggles. As the week progressed, a unique relationship and irreplaceable bond formed with their family.
My experience in Appalachia taught me an invaluable lesson: it’s the quality of the relationships we form in our life which measures true happiness, not the quantity of material items we accumulate. Further, these relationships can sustain us through any hardships we will inevitably face. Such is evident with their family. It sounds so trite to say money doesn’t buy happiness, but I understand now what that means. Tangible goods cannot replace the timeless values which I found in the simplicity and joy exuding in Appalachia. The arduous work my team completed for a family in need; the family’s joie de vivre; and the unforgettable friendships formed worked in unison to create humble perfection at a mobile home in the mountains of Virginia.
* All Homeowners names changed for their safety.
