Reflections on the Road: Coal Towns

I drove over 246 miles on Saturday to attend a funeral. I-76, I-476, I-78, Rt. 901, Rt. 61, Rt. 54., Rt. 487, back and forth, winding through mountains with just enough color on them to still be beautiful.  - - Well, mountains are always beautiful, but you know what I mean. - - I traveled to this destination often as a child, nauseated by the twisting elevation. I remember once pulling off into the Ace Hardware parking lot, just in time to vomit into an empty orange juice bottle in the car. Now, in the driver's seat, I managed to keep nausea at bay. Coming from Philadelphia, my journey up through Pennsylvania was entirely different than the one from my Maryland childhood, but the destination was still the same: my Dad's hometown.

My memories of this place are filled with candy cigarettes from the best candy store ever, hot dogs smothered in onions, hours of Uno playing, rosaries that lasted forever, and funerals. Lots and lots of funerals. Times it seemed funerals would never end; times it seemed funerals would never come; now, the last time, the last funeral I'll probably ever attend in that church and in that town. The house will be sold, the candy store closed long ago. I might never have a reason to go back there, except perhaps to visit graves.

In his homily at the funeral mass, the priest spoke about the deceased's quiet life and simple joys. Looking around at his friends, I was acutely aware of how different they were from me. They looked "Pennsylvanian" in the way my childhood self understood the whole state to be. - -  Now, having resided in Pennsylvania for most of the past seven years, my definition has broadened a bit, though still holds strong in many ways. - - They were people whose bodies and lives were often overlooked and looked down upon because they weren't glamorous or trendy or beautiful; because they weren't urban; because they weren't progressive; because they weren't educated; because they weren't... Growing up, I questioned the value of these towns; I wondered why anyone would want to live there, especially once the candy store closed.

Driving through coal towns with names like Minersville and Coal - - literally, Coal Township - - gave me a sobering perspective on notions of nowhere and nobody. These little nowhere towns - - cue The Tallest Man on Earth - - consisted of bars, nail salons, bed & breakfasts, sandwich shops, homes. Welcome signs hung from doorways, and I got the sense everybody knew everybody, and that wasn't a bad thing. Tiny diners sprinkled the roadways I traveled on, boasting pumpkin french toast, just like any elite brunch spot in Philadelphia. These little spots of the country that seem so far removed from everything of interest, really weren't that removed at all. In the city, people desperately try to create the kind of "dive bar" that all these little town bars naturally were. I bet that diner's pumpkin french toast was the most delicious in the state. Chugging along, surprised and mesmerized by what I saw, I realized nowhere doesn't actually exist.

All those little towns, full of those people. They are some places and somebodies. Their lives have meaning beyond what many of us might relate to. Their towns have histories and stories - fruitful pasts, waning presents, hopeful futures. These are the voices that bigger voices like news outlets and movies and cities would have us forget exist. These are the voices that are often trying so desperately to keep up, but to also be acknowledged for where and who they are right now. These are the people that it is not hip or cool to agree with in our current political climate, but they are many and they are there, dotting every road you travel. Look at them. Acknowledge them. Talk to them. They are not bad or good. They are not nobodies whose opinions do not matter. Rather, they too are trying to find meaning and joy in life, just like you and I.

Eight churches, three bars, two restaurants, one lawyer - little nowhere towns are simple. They challenge us to consider how many options we really do require; they challenge us to consider the role community plays in our lives; they challenge us to find beauty in lives that are different from our own. I by no means want to move to a Pennsylvania coal town, but I can finally understand they are valuable. In light of my childhood self, that is a rather big step.

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Want to experience coal town Pennsylvania? Here are some quintessential stops:
Coney Island Lunch - Shamokin, PA
Transfiguration of Our Lord Ukrainian Catholic Church - Shamokin, PA
Mother Cabrini Roman Catholic Church - Shamokin, PA
Knoebels Grove Amusement Park - Elysburg, PA
Yuengling Brewery - Pottsville, PA
Miners Tavern - Minersville, PA
Historic Port Clinton

The aim of my new category, Reflections on the Road, is to document ways in which my physical journeys and my intellectual/spiritual/emotional journey intersect through traveling, in a more concerted effort to explore the title of this blog. Ride along!

Photo by Doug Kerr, found on Wikipedia Commons.