Something's Rising: Appalachians Fighting Mountaintop Removal Read Online Free

about halfway through the two-hour-long program, but before that, people were already restless. Those in the upper bleachers fanned themselves with their programs. Babies cried. Everyone seemed to be milling about, going in and out to smoke, staying just to see their friend or family member graduate. But when Ritchie sat down with her dulcimer and began singing “Shady Grove,” the commotion ceased. No one moved a muscle. The more than a thousand people filling the gymnasium were all unified in listening to her, watching her, feeling her good spirit wash over them. It was a magical moment, and it grew even more intense once Ritchie decided that she wanted to sing one more song. She stood on her own and looked out on the crowd, making eye contact with almost everyone.
    “I wrote this next song about thirty years ago,” she said, “about something that I felt was very important. And it turns outthat it's still about something important.” Then she closed her eyes and sang:
    My Lord, he said unto me
“Do you like my garden so fair?
You may live in this garden if you'll keep the grasses green
And I'll return in the cool of the day.”
    Now is the cool of the day
Now is the cool of the day
This earth is a garden, the garden of my Lord
And he walks in his garden
In the cool of the day
    Then my Lord, he said unto me
“Do you like my pastures so green?
You may live in this garden if you will feed my sheep
And I'll return in the cool of the day.”
    Then my Lord, he said unto me
“Do you like my garden so free?
You may live in this garden if you'll keep the people free
And I'll return in the cool of the day.”
    Now is the cool of the day
Now is the cool of the day
O this earth is a garden, the garden of my Lord
And he walks in his garden
In the cool of the day.
    At that point, the only sound in the huge room is that of people crying. They may not know that they've just heard an environmentally minded hymn, but they all are aware that they've just witnessed something very powerful. Perhaps a few of them have even been changed forever. Then they stand up, with none of thehesitation that usually occurs with standing ovations. Everyone is on their feet, and the applause is thunderous.
    After commencement, on their way out, people push and shove to speak to Ritchie, to thank her, to touch her. She is treated like a prophet here in her homeland. One woman, dressed in a bright Sunday-best dress and tottering on white heels she is not used to, stands nearby but will not approach Ritchie. Her Appalachian hands—big, hard-working, liver-spotted—hold tight to the shoulders of her young granddaughter, who wears an Easter hat for the occasion of seeing someone, perhaps an older sister, become the first college graduate in the family. The woman leans down to the little girl and whispers, “Look, Cassie. That's Jean Ritchie. This is something to remember, baby.”
    Just as when she was twelve years old, Jean Ritchie knows who she is and knows what she believes in. So many years ago that little Singing Girl of the Cumberlands thought to herself, “I felt proud that I was who I was.” But that child also felt alone. As a twelve-year-old, she could have had no idea that one day she would bring so many people together, making all of them realize that they were not alone. She could not have known how proud all Appalachians—and all people who believe in standing up for what they believe in—would one day be of her, too.
    When the interview is over, Ritchie frets that her visitors have not had anything to eat, having dined just before arriving at her house. Like a true Appalachian, she can't stand the thought of us leaving her home with an empty belly or an empty hand. She produces a box of chocolates and insists that we take them. “You didn't have any coffee or a bite to eat or anything,” she says, with concern.
    She also can't resist the Appalachian tradition of following visitors out the door when they depart. She comes out on the