Bill Lynch, Author at West Virginia Public Broadcasting

The Math Of Coffee And Clogging

Dancing is hard, especially if you have trouble with counting past four. Bill Lynch continues to explore clogging in this next installment of “Lore.”

I’ve never been good at math.

I’m not good at counting. This is a real and regular problem.

For example, every morning, I get up at five. I walk the dogs, pack for the gym and make half a pot of coffee to share with my son who gets up around 6:30.

I pour six cups of water into the reservoir for the coffeemaker.

According to the directions (as well as my particular tastes), to make six cups of coffee, I need to scoop six level spoons of ground coffee into the basket, but I’m easily distracted. The smallest of my two dogs, Penny, often wants attention – or a bite of whatever I’m putting together for my lunch.

I add to the chaos around me by trying to read the news while I’m making coffee, checking email or looking at my bank balance to decide whether today would be a good day to skip bringing my lunch and maybe invest in a hotdog.

If I have the radio on at 5:30 in the morning, six coffee spoons can sometimes be seven or maybe eight. Occasionally, it’s only five or maybe four. It can depend on the song.

Also, I can totally lose track if I suddenly remember that it’s Wednesday and I forgot to put the trash bin to the curb the night before. If I want the crows and the raccoons to stay out of my trash, I have to race out to my driveway before the garbage truck has cleared the mailbox down the road in front of the sheriff deputy’s place.

Once it gets past there, they’re not stopping for another quarter mile.

This was why counting to four was hard for me. At any given time, my mind is racing and I’m only halfway paying attention.

Tosha Smith, the dance instructor for the Lincoln County Cloggers, assured me this wasn’t that hard.

“The basic step is just kick-two-three-four-kick,” she said.

You started on your left foot with a kick and then stabilizing the foot was two. The three-four was a rock step with your right foot. Rock steps was a fancy dance term for sort of rolling up on the ball of your foot and back. Then you kicked with your right and repeated the process from right to left.

At least, that’s what I think she said.

This was foundational sort of stuff and surrounded by the Lincoln County Cloggers, I could sort of do it – by kind of counting, but also by watching everyone’s feet.

However, the more elaborate the dance became (or the louder the music, maybe), the harder it was for me to keep up. I’d kick with my left foot, skip two, move to three and then stumble over four before kicking with my left foot again, when I should’ve been kicking with my right.

It was messy and very ugly.

But the cloggers were very patient with me, if a little amused. By now, it was second nature to all of them. They made it look effortless, like breathing or just walking across a room.

I wanted to do the same thing.

But I’m not a natural dancer, but I’ve managed to muscle through a few dances here and there. I took several swing dance lessons a few years ago (I have forgotten everything), and I annually participate in Charleston Ballet’s “Nutcracker” as one of the party guests in the opening scene.

Not every hobby I have lets you dress up like a budget
Doctor Who, but I’ll take what I can get.

I get to do two very short pieces with a group of around a dozen other adults – and every year, I have to relearn the steps (slowly).

Dancing has always been very aspirational for me. It’s something I feel like I’m missing out on.

When I started up with clogging, I kept thinking about the story Mason Adams did on the Friday Night Jamboree at the Floyd Country Store for Inside Appalachia (an unabashed plug for the show). I remembered the man who said he’d been dragged onto the floor to dance as a younger man and he’d fallen in love with it. When others came to the Country Store to listen to the music, he encouraged them to dance. He told them the music was good, but that dancing was a whole new world.

I wanted to understand that.

Rehearsal with the Lincoln County Cloggers nudged me forward in that direction, maybe, but I was having a heck of time on my own. On a good night, I could muddle through the steps – as long as no music played, and nobody watched.

Including my dog, Penny.

A KY Comedian Ducks A Flying Bottle And A Talk With The WV Poet Laureate

For working comedians, mean-spirited hecklers are part of the job. But what happens when someone gets angry enough to throw a beer? And, West Virginia poet laureate Marc Harshman had his own experience with an intimidating gig. We also hear some advice for people caring for aging relatives. You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.

For working comedians, mean-spirited hecklers are part of the job. But what happens when someone gets angry enough to throw a beer?

And, West Virginia poet laureate Marc Harshman had his own experience with an intimidating gig.

We also hear some advice for people caring for aging relatives.

You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.

In This Episode:

Kentucky Comedian Ducks A Heckler And Catches Fame
West Virginia Poet Laureate Looks Back At 10 Years
More Questions About Elder Care Answered
Miss West Virginia Champions Appalachian Agriculture

Kentucky Comedian Ducks A Heckler And Catches Fame

Catching a break in comedy can take years, decades — sometimes never. Usually, stand up comedians slowly work their way up from open mics and local bars — to the grind of touring on the club circuit.

But getting a spot on a late night talk show? That could be a career launcher — leading to a better spot on club shows, national tours and — every once in a while — real stardom.

Kentucky comedian Ariel Elias recently appeared on Jimmy Kimmel Live! — but not in the way she expected. She went viral after a video emerged of a heckler in New Jersey chucking a beer at her.

It missed Elias’ head by inches. What happened next ensured her place in standup history. Elias picked up the can — and chugged the rest of the beer.

WFPL’s Stephanie Wolf recently spoke with her.

West Virginia Poet Laureate Looks Back At 10 Years

Marc Harshman is West Virginia’s poet laureate. Harshman has published more than 15 books over his career, many of them for children. His 2017 book “Believe What You Can” won Appalachian Book of the Year. Producer Bill Lynch recently spoke with Harshman about his long tenure, his current collection, “Dark Hills of Home,” and what it was like when he found out he was chosen to follow Irene McKinney as West Virginia poet laureate.

Miss West Virginia Champions Appalachian Agriculture

Miss West Virginia Elizabeth Lynch finished as third-runner up in the Miss America competition. Lynch used the moment to promote Appalachian agriculture. WVPB’s Shepherd Snyder spoke to Lynch about her advocacy.

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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by The Company Stores, Mary Hott, Paul Loomis and Montana Skies

Bill Lynch is our producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens. Zander Aloi also helped produce this episode.

You can send us an email at InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.

You can find us on Instagram and Twitter @InAppalachia.

And you can sign-up for our Inside Appalachia Newsletter here!

Inside Appalachia is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

Hanging Out With The Lincoln County Cloggers

Over the phone, Tosha Smith explained that the Lincoln County Cloggers had suspended classes for new cloggers for the first half of 2023. They were preparing for the National Cherry Blossom Festival Parade in April and didn’t have time to devote to newbies. “We’ll offer that class for beginners in the fall,” she said. “But you could still come out for a lesson.”

“We’ll offer that class for beginners in the fall,” she said. “But you could still come out for a lesson.”

I balked and tried to explain that I thought I needed a lot more than just one lesson, that I wanted to spend a few weeks with them.

“Maybe I ought to come back and do the class in the fall — the eight-week class,” I said.

She told me I should just come out now, that they could focus more attention on me.

I went along with it and met Tosha in the parking lot of the Lincoln County McDonalds, an easy-to-find, central location. I could follow from there.

It was a bit of a haul from West Hamlin and just far enough for me to be glad that I had someone to follow. I tried to pay attention. So, I could find my way back at least to the McDonalds.

The house we pulled up to wasn’t what I expected to find in Lincoln County or really anywhere in West Virginia, really. It was a large, but unassuming house next to what looked like a garage or guest house separated by a wall and a gate.

Beyond the house, was the river. On the other side, a train shrieked by, probably carrying coal.

“I wish I’d got my recorder out to catch the sound of the train,” I said to Tosha.

Tosha smiled and said, “Just wait around. There’ll be another one.”

The place belonged to Liza Hofmann, one of the members of the Lincoln County Cloggers.

Beyond the gate, just past the statue of David, was a credible beach bar with submerged bar stools in a salt pool, a hot tub and an elaborate looking outdoor fireplace/barbecue feature.

Winter had choked the space with debris. The water had gone dark and murky. The entire patio would need a good cleaning come summer, but what she’d built was remarkable. It was a real oasis.

Liza said there wasn’t an awful lot to do in Lincoln County. She’d built the patio and the clubhouse because she wanted a place for her friends and family to gather.

I wanted to be her neighbor — at least from late May until about the first of September.

I was shown inside the sea shanty-themed clubhouse, where Tosha introduced me to her three daughters. They talked to me a little about the Lincoln County Cloggers, which performed at festivals, fairs and events all over the area, but didn’t compete.

Liza and Tosha led the dance troupe with Tosha organizing the group’s dance routines and handling much of their bookings.

After a dance demonstration, Tosha had me join their line and walked me through the basic steps.

“It’s just kick, one, two, three, kick, one, two, three, kick,” she said — or that’s pretty close to what she said, though I had a little trouble with the counting and remembering where my feet were supposed to be.

“Start with your left foot,” Tosha told me.

And I did. Often, I went back to my left foot, even when I was supposed to be kicking with my right.

But… Tosha and Liza said I did pretty good — good enough that they squeezed a second lesson in with the second. We did a little dance to “Cotton-Eyed Joe” and then a more elaborate set of steps to Bob Seger’s “Old-Time Rock n’ Roll.”

From where I was standing, the dance was cool, but I’m not sure how Bob would feel about it.

Before I left, I recorded the dance steps to take with me and study.

“Homework,” Tosha said.

I promised to do my best and come back next week.

Morgan Wade Talks Performing At Home

This week on Inside Appalachia, we go back to school with West Virginia women who are training to fill the shortage of construction jobs. And, EMTs and first responders take care of Appalachian communities, but who’s watching out for them? We’ll also talk with country music star Morgan Wade about what it’s like to play in Nashville one week and then return to your hometown stage the next.

This week on Inside Appalachia, we go back to school with West Virginia women who are training to fill the shortage of construction jobs.

And, EMTs and first responders take care of Appalachian communities, but who’s watching out for them?

We’ll also talk with country music star Morgan Wade about what it’s like to play in Nashville one week and then return to your hometown stage the next.

In This Episode:

West Virginia Aims To Add More Women To Construction Trades

A couple of years ago, Congress passed a massive infrastructure bill. It devotes $1.2 trillion to pay for roads, bridges and more, across the country. Infrastructure is super important in Appalachia — for living, working and getting around in the mountains. But all of these projects take people. A lot of times, there just aren’t enough people to fill all the jobs — especially in certain trades that require skilled labor.

As Chris Schulz reports, West Virginia aims to meet the need by training more workers — particularly women.

Morgan Wade Talks Tattoos, Music and Coming Home To Perform

Country singer Morgan Wade has been causing a stir for years. The Virginia native rose from being a much loved local performer to launching a career in country music that has included the hit song “Wilder Days” and a run, opening for Chris Stapleton on tour.

Host Mason Adams spoke with Wade about music, her tour and coming home to Floyd, Virginia.

Caring For Aging Parents Raises Many Questions

Many families are raising children while they’re taking care of their parents. That’s especially true here in Appalachia, where we have tight-knit families and an aging population. It gets more complicated for loved ones with chronic health problems, declining mobility and dementia.

Eric Douglas is exploring questions about caring for others as they get older. In this installment, he talks with Dr. Lynn Goebel, a Marshall University professor who works at the Hanshaw Geriatric Center in Huntington.

Poet Nikki Giovanni Talks About Her Connection To Appalachia

Last fall, Appalachian poet Nikki Giovanni announced her retirement from Virginia Tech after 35 years. Of course, her pop culture prominence goes back even further, to her appearances on the television program Soul! in the 1970s. She is a true Appalachian original, and one of our great all-time poets. In 2015, reporter Liz McCormick spoke with Giovanni about her love for Appalachia. Their conversation begins with Giovanni reading a poem named for her native city — “Knoxville, Tennessee.”

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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by Jesse Milnes, Little Sparrow, Morgan Wade, Chris Stapleton and Johnny Statts.

Bill Lynch is our producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens. Zander Aloi also helped produce this episode.

You can send us an email at InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.

You can find us on Instagram and Twitter @InAppalachia.

And you can sign-up for our Inside Appalachia Newsletter here!

Inside Appalachia is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

Clogging in Lincoln County: Meeting Tosha

Tosha Smith met me in the parking lot of the McDonalds in Hamlin, which was, as far as I was able to determine, the only McDonalds in Lincoln County.I was glad it was the only one.

Tosha Smith met me in the parking lot of the McDonalds in Hamlin, which was, as far as I was able to determine, the only McDonalds in Lincoln County.

I was glad it was the only one.

Meeting at the hamburger restaurant had been Tosha’s idea. Lincoln County has spotty cell phone service, which might make it hard for a stranger to navigate and we both wanted me to get to my first clogging lesson on time.

I was relieved she wanted to meet at an easily recognizable business along a relatively uncomplicated route. I wouldn’t even need to use my phone to find my way.

Without GPS, I can get lost in a gas station parking lot. With GPS, the chances of me finding my way improved slightly.

The last time I went to Lincoln County was more than a year ago. I’d gone, mostly, just to say I’d been. At the time, I was trying to visit all 55 of West Virginia’s counties.

The point of the whole trip was to explore a little, find something to do and maybe have lunch.

Exploration led me to the Big Ugly Wildlife Management Area, as remote a place as I thought I’d ever been. I’d wandered around for a couple of hours just after a hard rain. I’d tried to jump over, but then waded through mud puddles a foot deep, fearing for leeches.

I’d been a snack for black flies, mosquitoes and my own overactive imagination.

The Big Ugly Wildlife Management Area is full of terrifying creatures, like this one.

Any second, I was pretty sure, a cloud of ticks would envelope me or I’d kick over a nest of snakes.

There are days when enjoying the great outdoors is a struggle for me.

Leaving Big Ugly had been an odyssey.

Cell service, which took me to the wildlife management area, was gone and the satellite GPS I kept in my car hadn’t been updated in years. It tried to get me back to the highway by taking a dried creek bed through a farmer’s yard.

But I found my way back to the highway and then to Hamlin, where I ate like a savage at Carnivore BBQ.

Bill doesn’t know much about clogging, but he knows a lot about nachos. Carnivore BBQ in Hamlin has good nachos.

I hadn’t been back since, though – even though I’ve talked about going back to the barbecue place routinely since I left.

I’d stumbled across the Lincoln County Cloggers randomly.

When I’d begun putting together my list of Appalachian topics for “Lore,” clogging had come up late, while I was thinking about Appalachian performing arts I could maybe learn. I didn’t think I could get very far trying to play a fiddle, but I could maybe pick up some dance steps.

I searched online and found the Lincoln County Cloggers, who at the start of 2023, were offering a class for would-be cloggers.

A class sounded perfect. I could maybe even hide a little bit in the crowd, if things didn’t go very well.

So, I reached out to the group and Tosha said they’d love to have me along. The only problem was they’d just postponed the classes, while the Lincoln County Cloggers prepared to go to the National Cherry Blossom Parade in Washington, DC.

(Continued Friday)

Making the ‘Lore’ List

With "Lore," Bill Lynch began by considering traditional culture, after he thought about trying to get on the game show "Survivor."

Ideas don’t happen in vacuums. When I began putting together the rough list of topics for “Lore,” I borrowed heavily from my previous newspaper column, which had me doing all kinds of things for a month at a time.

Some of the “Lore” topics were things I’d meant to try but had never gotten around to doing anything with. Nearly all were woodsy, which is a weak spot for me.

I prefer to experience the great outdoors in bite-sized, easy to digest servings and would rather sleep in my car than camp.

Still, I wanted to push myself. So, my initial list included fire building, wild mushroom foraging and deer hunting.

“What? Am I trying to get on ‘Survivor?’” I thought.

Truth be told, I did apply to get on “Survivor” once. I thought it would be cool. No one from West Virginia (as far as I know) has ever been a contestant, though there have been a few Appalachians.

I don’t know if any of them have ever won, though.

As I was preparing to start “Lore,” I talked it over with news director Eric Douglas. I shared my ideas and he agreed that I’d come up with a curriculum meant for someone studying to be a cave man.

Building fires and finding basic foods in the wild had more to do with basic survival. It didn’t have an Appalachian feel, even though, sure, people do that.

My list was falling short, but as I was listening to an Inside Appalachia Folkways story about Lost Creek Farms, something co-owner Amy Dawson said stuck with me.

“If you live on a farm, you just do food prep all the time –and preservation,” she said.

A great deal of Appalachian culture begins around certain notions of rural life with families living on small farms.

So, I stopped thinking so much about hunter/gatherers and imagined an old couple, living out in a holler somewhere and what their lives might be like. I didn’t see them as poor, but as self-reliant and thrifty. Maybe they grew a garden and got their water out of a well. Maybe they cooked over a wood stove because they lived in their childhood home and the stove their parents used still worked.

Maybe the old man hunted every fall. He probably looked forward to it and enjoyed it, but taking a deer was more than “sport.” It was meat in the freezer over the winter.

I imagined this couple telling their grandkids stories by firelight or teaching them to dance out in the yard because neither the internet nor Netflix had made it out to the end of their road.

What these people might know interested me and so, I began writing down what I’d want them to teach me. It gave me a place to start, and the list of wants grew to include things that had nothing to do with that old couple I imagined.

It’s a pretty good list. Who knows if I’ll get to all of it, but there’s a lot to learn.

Kentucky Comedian Ducks A Heckler And Catches Fame

More Questions About Elder Care Answered

West Virginia Poet Laureate Looks Back At 10 Years

Miss West Virginia Champions Appalachian Agriculture